Kill Shot: A Remnant of the Commonwealth, Book Two

by Williams, Christopher

  The answer had come to him in those flashes of a moment ago. The woman could interfere with the way his brain interacted with his body, but the organic computer that shared space in his body would not be affected. He dreaded the thought of turning control over to the computer side of him, but it might be that or die, and he was sure the death would be long and drawn out.

  Aaron wasn’t even sure that what he was trying to do would work, wasn’t even sure it was possible, but it was worth a try. At this point, anything was worth a try.

  Aaron’s eyes focused on the woman. She glanced over her shoulder at Quinton. The boy was just now rounding the edge of the bed on his way to kill Thomas.

  Aaron’s vision narrowed, the edges coming together. It was like looking through a tunnel, only the bright circle of light was getting smaller. He howled silently as the light blinked out and he could see nothing, hear nothing, and feel nothing.

  Even as Aaron’s vision faded to blackness, his eyes continued to track Terra. Aaron could no longer see her, but a part of him still followed her.

  Aaron’s right hand lifted off the floor in a herky-jerky movement, and he slid it up under his left armpit, searching for the small Oliver handgun in the shoulder holster. His hand found it and clumsily closed around the grip. He tried to pull it free, but his hand slipped and came off. He tried again, sitting up as he sought the handgun.

  The part of Aaron that was in control realized Terra was starting to turn, starting to look his way again. He pulled at the holster. Once again, his hand closed around the butt of the gun and this time he managed to pull it free.

  Terra glanced back at Aaron and her eyes went wide. She began swinging the Horace toward Aaron and she opened her mouth to speak, but the words never came.

  The Oliver handgun bucked in Aaron’s hand. Once, twice, and a third time for good measure. Each shot hit Terra squarely in the chest. This part of Aaron might have been unfamiliar with how to hold a gun, but it seemed quite capable of shooting one.

  Terra fell backward and hit the floor hard, but Aaron had already begun moving again. He clumsily forced himself into a kneeling position, pausing only long enough to reach over and scoop up the Horace from where Terra had dropped it. He did so with the same herky-jerky, uncoordinated way of moving that he had used earlier.

  Aaron seemed to almost pop upward from the kneeling position; it would have been comical if it wasn’t so dangerous.

  Quinton had been reaching for Thomas with his hands, most likely to snap the man’s neck, but he had paused at the sound of the Oliver. He appeared confused, his head turned to look at Aaron. His eyes went wide and he seemed to flow backward.

  The Horace bucked in Aaron’s hand, firing directly at the spot where Quinton had been a moment ago. The only problem was that he was no longer there. Quinton had moved from near the head of the bed to the foot of the bed in the blink of an eye.

  Aaron jerked the Horace sideways, tracking Quinton and the gun went off again. As before, Quinton seemed to flow away from the one corner of the bed, appearing at the opposite corner of the bed. His path left little doubt where he was headed; he was coming for Aaron.

  Once again, Aaron jerked the Horace sideways and fired, but this time he also aimed the Oliver and fired it as well. He fired the Horace at where Quinton was, and he fired the Oliver where he expected him to be next.

  There was a gasp from Quinton as the shot of the Oliver caught him in the shoulder.

  The Horace had missed again, but the computer part of Aaron had calculated correctly and caught Quinton arriving in his new location.

  The Oliver was not a powerful gun, but Quinton was a small man. The shot knocked him backward to the ground and he lay there gasping for breath.

  Aaron didn’t give him a chance to recover, but stepped forward and fired the Horace point-blank at Quinton’s head.

  Chapter 25

  Aaron regained consciousness to find himself standing in the wreckage of his room; the Horace was in his left hand and it was pointed at the ruined remains of Quinton. His breath caught and he flailed around for some memory of what had happened. All he could remember was darkness.

  The room had been shot to hell, the walls full of plasmic holes and covered in scorch marks.

  The flashes came again, and Aaron blinked his eyes like he was trying to clear them. The flashes were like they had been a few moments before, but this time they were a rehash of what had happened while he had been unconscious, or whatever it was he had been.

  Aaron swallowed hard, looking around at the mess. It had worked and he found himself wishing it hadn’t. This was something else to worry about and it frightened him to no end. The computer in his head could take control. Could it take control whenever it wanted?

  He stood there for several moments, his mind ferreting out every horrible scenario imaginable. It was easy to imagine the worst, as he had already been through a lot.

  A groan from the far side of the bed interrupted the panic party going on in his head. He took a deep breath and forced himself to relax, pushing the terrifying thoughts away. He forced his thoughts to the here and now, making himself concentrate on what had to be done.

  He stepped around the bed and looked down. Thomas was lying on the floor, his eyes were still closed, but his head was moving slightly.

  Aaron returned the two guns to their holsters and then stepped close, leaned down, and began slapping Thomas lightly on the cheek. On the third slap, Thomas stirred, pulling his head to the side. His left hand came up and tried to push Aaron’s away.

  “Wake up, dipshit,” Aaron said. “We got to go.”

  Thomas’s eyes flittered open and he blinked up at Aaron. “Huh?”

  “Got to go,” Aaron repeated. “I’m guessing it won’t be long befor the authorities get here. And unless you want to be arrested for murder, we need to vacate the premises.”

  That certainly got Thomas’s attention. He held a hand up, and Aaron used it to pull him up. Thomas was a bit unsteady on his feet, and he rubbed the back of his head gingerly. His gaze swept across the two bodies on the floor and his eyes widened. “Oh shit!”

  “Exactly,” Aaron agreed. “Give me a second and then we’ll get out of here.”

  Aaron hurriedly moved around the room, gathering up the few personal things that still remained. There were two sets of identification and he most certainly did not want to lose those. There also was a small tablet and he scooped it up, too. In less than a minute, he was ready to go.

  Aaron moved to the door and Thomas joined him. For just a moment, Aaron paused and considered, then he sighed. He bent over and removed the second Oliver from his ankle holster and held it out to Thomas.

  Thomas shook his head and smiled. “Thanks, but I got my own,” he said, pulling a gun from his pocket.

  Aaron’s eyes widened at the sight of the gun. “Where did you get that?” he demanded.

  Thomas’s smile grew a bit larger and he returned the gun to his pocket. “From him,” he said, motioning toward Quinton. “I get the feeling he’s done with it and wouldn’t mind if I borrowed it.”

  Aaron nodded. “All right, let’s see if we can get out of here.”

  He opened the door slightly and looked up and down the corridor—no signs of anyone.

  “Well?” Thomas asked.

  “I don’t see anyone,” Aaron replied.

  “I sat here for hours,” Thomas said, “and in all that time, I didn’t see a soul. Maybe we got lucky.”

  Aaron hoped so, but he wouldn’t have bet on it. All the luck he seemed to be encountering lately ran to the bad kind.

  Aaron stepped out into the corridor, followed closely by Thomas. The stairs were just down the hallway; Thomas nudged him and motioned that way. Aaron shook his head and leaned in close. “Those stairs lead to the lobby. If we follow this second hallway on the left, there’s a second set of stairs and they get much less use.”

  Thomas only nodded and Aaron led the way.

  They wal
ked quickly and quietly down the halls.

  One of the first things Aaron had done upon renting the room was to locate other means of entering and leaving. He was glad that he had.

  The corridors were deserted, there were no signs of life in the halls, but they did hear soft music coming from one of the rooms as they passed by.

  They reached the end of the hallway and slipped into the stairwell. Aaron paused just inside the doorway and listened, half-afraid that he might hear the thumping of police officers running up the stairs, but it was silent.

  He nodded at Thomas and then began hurrying down the stairs. He didn’t try to walk silently, as that would have been suspicious by itself. Instead, he hurried down the stairs, pleased to no end that going down was so much easier than coming up had been.

  They reached the bottom and Aaron pushed open the side door of the hotel, spilling them onto the street. He looked around—nothing. No sirens, no running police officers, just the normal crowded street that he was used to.

  “Come on,” Aaron said. “Stay close.”

  “Where are we going?” Thomas asked.

  “Away from this hotel,” Aaron answered wearily.

  “And what about Eric?” Thomas demanded, his tone going a bit nasty.

  “First things first,” Aaron said, suppressing the sudden desire to throttle the man.

  They walked for nearly six blocks before Aaron was comfortable enough to get a small table at a roadside café. Thomas leaned forward, undoubtedly to begin questioning him again, but was interrupted by a waitress stopping at their table to get their order. They both ordered a drink and the girl disappeared, but not before she could cast another glance at Thomas’s bruised face.

  “What now?” Thomas asked, once again leaning close.

  “Can you give me directions to where Eric is being held?”

  Thomas nodded. “It’s a small office complex, not too far from the spaceport.”

  “Good,” Aaron said and then he paused. The waitress returned and set two drinks down on the table. A moment later and she was gone again. Aaron pulled the small tablet from his pocket and set it on the table. He shoved it over to Thomas. “Enter the directions in here.”

  “Why?” Thomas asked, “I can just show you.”

  “No, you can’t,” Aaron answered, “because you won’t be going with me. I want you to go to the ship and let Susan know what’s going on.”

  “Like hell,” Thomas said, his voice rising noticeably. “If you think I’m letting you handle this, then you’re dead wrong.”

  Aaron ground his teeth, resisting the urge to snap right back. He might make the same demands if Susan was being held somewhere. “Do as I say or do it yourself,” he said in a calm, quiet voice.

  For just a moment, Aaron thought Thomas might refuse, but then he nodded his head once and looked away.

  “Good,” Aaron said, feeling satisfied. “Tell her what you told me. Also, tell her that I’m going to rescue Eric, but if I’m not there by midnight then I want her to take the ship and leave. Go far away and don’t ever come back.”

  “What about Eric?” Thomas demanded.

  “If I haven’t arrived at the ship by midnight, then it means they have me and they’ll be coming for the ship.” He leaned forward to emphasis his words. “Once they have me, Eric’s dead.”

  Thomas took a deep breath and nodded again slowly.

  They parted ways outside the café and a rather nasty thought occurred to Aaron as he followed the sidewalk. What if Thomas returns to the office complex where they have Eric instead of going to the ship? He didn’t trust Thomas, hadn’t ever really trusted him, and he had seriously considered killing the man not too long ago. He could certainly see how Thomas might be tempted to not follow orders.

  Aaron turned and looked for Thomas, the idea suddenly occurring to him that perhaps he should follow Thomas at least to the spaceport’s entrance. It was getting later and more of the night crowd was out and about. Thomas had just walked away a moment ago and the crowd had already swallowed him up. After a moment, Aaron gave up the idea of trying to find Thomas and decided that he had precious little choice but to trust him.

  Aaron walked another block and noticed a taxi queue. He got in the line and waited a couple of minutes until it was his turn. It seemed a lifetime ago that he had taken that taxi ride from the spaceport to his hotel, but in truth in had only been eight days ago. He sighed, wondering if he would ever see the ship or his crew again.

  The taxi was bigger than the one he had ridden in that first night. This one could easily hold four people, and Aaron felt out of place in the oversized backseat. He felt a bit like a tiny man wearing a fat man’s clothes.

  “Destination?” the metallic, computerized voice asked.

  Aaron pulled the tablet from his pocket and gave an intersection several blocks away from the office complex.

  The taxi took off and Aaron leaned back in the seat. He hadn’t exactly planned how he was to storm this office complex with three more ex-Commonwealth soldiers inside. He wasn’t sure what talents the other two men possessed, but he knew the woman was a telepath. Terra had let that bit slip. Thomas had told him the makeup of the group—three men and two women. Well, by his count they were down to two men and one woman. Only the remaining soldiers at that complex didn’t know that two of theirs had been killed. That was his one advantage, that and the computer in his head.

  His skin broke out in goose pimples as he thought about the computer taking control. That was something he hoped to never do again, but he didn’t think he would be that lucky. They have a telepath with them, he thought. She’ll be able to sense me the moment I enter the complex. The goose pimples were back, and this time a chill ran up his spine; there was a way that she wouldn’t be able to sense him.

  The taxi began picking up speed and Aaron wrestled with himself the whole way. He never wanted to let the computer have control again, but what if it was the only way.

  As the taxi pulled up next to the curb, he made his decision.

  Chapter 26

  Susan watched as the last of her legal cargo disappeared down the ramp, the dock hands driving it away on the transports. Richard and Reece were still here, as well as the rest of Susan’s crew. Some of Richard’s men still remained, and they had a different look than the other cargo handlers. She got the feeling these men only handled special cargoes.

  Reece’s armed men had already gone through the rest of the ship; they seemed more interested in the people than any cargo or contraband. They had insisted that everyone gather in the cargo hold.

  “Where’s the PG?” Reece demanded.

  Susan pulled her eyes from the cargo transports back to the muscle-bound man. He and Richard were watching her expectantly. She glanced around at the remaining men in the cargo hold, but decided it wasn’t worth it to protest. Honestly, she didn’t want to open the secret compartment with all these men around, but it probably didn’t matter. For one thing, they were getting ready to leave, and secondly, she didn’t think Reece gave a shit what she wanted.

  Susan motioned toward the far wall. “It’s over here.” She walked toward the wall, consciously aware of how close Reece was to her back. She could sense a threatening feeling coming from the man, but she thought that had to do with his boss being killed. She didn’t think there was anything more to it. Still, her eyes sought out Russell’s. He and Jessica were sitting on one of the transports that they had gotten from the outfitter shop on Bathia.

  Russell’s chin came up in an unspoken question, and Susan shrugged her shoulders almost imperceptibly. She hoped Reece and Richard were being honest with her. A new scary scenario was running through her head suggesting that Reece was Bailey’s way of eliminating the loose ends. The idea had been growing in her mind as the normal cargo handlers disappeared with the legal cargo. She almost expected to get shot at any moment. Still, she hadn’t sensed anything in the men’s thoughts that suggested a massacre was about to occur. She so dea
rly hoped nothing bad was about to happen.

  They reached the far wall and Susan flipped a small switch. A section of the wall slowly opened up, showing a neatly concealed room beyond. It was one of many such rooms on the ship. Stacked neatly inside was Bailey’s two tons of PG.

  Richard and Reece stepped around Susan to get at the PG.

  “Open it up,” Reece said.

  Susan breathed a sigh of relief. Reece was still angry, but she could also sense his boredom. He was angry at whoever had killed Woodson, but he didn’t suspect them in the assassination.

  “Come on, Reece,” Richard said. “It’s just PG. What else do you think we’re smuggling in? And besides, even if it wasn’t PG, it still doesn’t have anything to do with what you’re looking for.”

  Reece considered for a moment and then nodded. “All right. Get it loaded and get it out of here.”

  Richard nodded and motioned his men over.

  Reece started to move past Susan and then paused. “When you planning to takeoff?”

  “We were hoping for tonight,” Susan replied.

  “If you’re taking off right now, I can go ahead and clear you,” Reece said.

  Susan was slightly taken aback at Reece’s tone; it wasn’t friendly, but it was almost professional. She shook her head, though. “Can’t. Need to get a few supplies first.”

  Reece nodded. “I understand, but it will probably be hours before I can get back out here. It might even be tomorrow.”

  Susan gave her best confused look. “Are you the only one doing these inspections?” she asked.

  “No,” Reece said, shaking his head, “but our orders are that whoever does the incoming inspection must do the outgoing one as well.”

  “Why is that?” Susan asked.

  “Simple. It makes it easier to spot something unusual,” he said. He appeared to be able to tell that Susan was confused because he added, “For instance, a different inspector might not know about your secret hold whereas I do.”

  Susan nodded. “How do I contact you when I’m ready to go?” she asked.