Fringe Station (Fringe Series Book 2)

by Rachel Aukes

  Mingh bore a cruel sneer on his face while he continued to watch Critch. Forcing himself to turn away first went against every fiber of Critch’s being, but he did. Mingh laughed, and finally walked away.

  Mingh believed Critch feared him. He couldn’t have been more wrong.

  With everyone gone, Critch knelt beside his friend’s body. Chutt’s expertise in demolitions surpassed anyone in the Collective. Such a waste.

  He pulled out the small arrowhead he’d carved his first night at the Citadel. Critch had grown up on Terra and—like most Terrans—he knew how to work the onyx-hard stone into useful tools as well as deadly weapons. He grabbed Chutt’s forearm and made a single, long slice. He dug into his friend’s warm blood until he found the micro-EMP. He stood and said a final prayer over Chutt’s body.

  A siren blasted throughout the Citadel, signaling shift change. As Critch walked back to his cell, he began to devise new plans. But his thoughts kept fading back to memories of a lost friend.

  Chapter Ten

  Sticky Situations

  “Chutt’s tracker has gone offline,” Reyne said as he walked into Seda’s office at Rebus Station. “What’s that mean?”

  Seda looked up from his screen. “It means Chutt’s either dead, they cut the tracker out of him, or he hit his EMP.”

  “Could the signal be blocked?”

  Seda shook his head. “These are interplanetary trackers we’re talking about. With Chutt on Terra, there should be nothing capable of blocking his signal.”

  Reyne considered their options. “We have to initiate the plan.”

  Seda leaned back. “We can’t go in after Critch until he’s found the generators. If we go in for him too soon, we could blow our chance at freeing everyone. Besides, if the prison’s scans catch you or any of your crew on the screens, Ausyar will know there are torrents on Terra. We have to play it safe.”

  “No,” Reyne said with finality. He paused and took a seat. “Listen, their cover is likely already blown. If Chutt is offline, how much time do you think Critch has?”

  “You have to give it time. Critch hasn’t hit his tracker yet. Be patient.”

  “I am the patient one. If I were in there, Critch would’ve broken me out two days ago. I’m going in with or without your help.”

  “These things have to be planned carefully. You’ve seen the schematics for yourself. You can’t just go in half-cocked. Listen, I’ve analyzed every escape from the Citadel. There have been six successful escapes and forty-seven near-successful escapes in the past twenty years.”

  “What constitutes a near-successful escape?” Reyne asked.

  “A near-successful escape is when they make it outside the Citadel, only to be killed within the first three days. You know why so many are unsuccessful?”

  Reyne waited for an answer.

  “Because the CUF has more dromadiers patrolling Rebus Station than any other fringe station.”

  “I noticed that. I had a hell of a time getting to your office without being caught.”

  “You didn’t need to come here. I could’ve met you at the Last Drop Café again.”

  “We don’t have time for scheduling meetings. We have to get to the Citadel.”

  “You realize that even if you get Critch out of there, as soon as the alarms sound you’ll have hundreds of dromadiers called in. Based on the past escape attempts, they’ll arrive on site in as few as twelve minutes.”

  “Twelve minutes? I can work with that.”

  “I need a drink.” Seda stood and walked over to the bar in the corner. Unlike Lincoln’s office, this room was small and austere. No artwork hung on the walls, and no ornate tchotchkes decorated the simple wood desk or table. A handmade Terran rug covered the stone floor, adding the only color to the brown room.

  “How long have you worked out of this office?” Reyne asked.

  “Ever since I became stationmaster. Sixteen years, give or take a few months.” Seda looked around before handing Reyne a glass. “I know it could use a decorator’s touch, but it works fine for me.”

  “Hm.” Reyne accepted the drink. “I can see why you and Vym are friends. You remind me of what she might have been like in her forties.”

  “There’s no one like Vym Patel.” Seda took his seat. “Once we free Critch, the Citadel will raise the threat level. When we return to take down the prison, any mistake will be costly.”

  “Then we’d better not make any mistakes.”

  Seda gave a small nod. “So when are we heading into the Citadel?”

  “In one hour. My team is already in place.”

  He downed his whiskey in a single gulp. “Then we’d better get going.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Solitary Run

  Reyne, Sixx, Boden, and Birk were going up against the Collective’s highest security prison with only the crew of the Honorless and Seda, and ten of his hired guns, for support. Twenty men suddenly felt like a pitiful match when Reyne saw the Citadel. The structure was a stone fort so large it disappeared deep into the twilight. Every twenty feet or so stood a titanium pillar. Automated drones armed with photon guns perched in chargers at the top of every pillar. An open plain of rocky ground surrounded the Citadel, with no trees or structures to offer camouflage. Whoever built the Citadel was a very smart person.

  Reyne glanced at his wrist comm and watched the blinking dot that represented Critch. The dot hadn’t moved for the last ten minutes, and he guessed the man had been locked in his cell for the night. He had no way of knowing where Chutt was, if the man was even still alive, so he figured they could rescue him when they freed the entire Citadel. Besides, Reyne wasn’t in as much of a hurry to rescue the pirate who’d so callously killed Doc after finding out she’d betrayed the torrents.

  They needed Critch’s intel before they risked taking down the Citadel, assuming Critch had what they needed.

  Retrieving Critch wouldn’t be easy. Escape attempts were common, and Seda had assured them that as long as they made the rescue with a rudimentary approach and tools, they shouldn’t raise the CUF’s suspicion. Assuming Seda was correct, they wouldn’t be putting the second part of their plan —freeing everyone inside — at risk.

  They waited in a bombed-out house nearest to Critch’s location, which was still at least three hundred meters away. They needed to be one hundred meters away for the harpoons to work, but Reyne liked to play it safe, so tonight they were going to get much closer.

  Reyne looked across the faces of his men. Sixx sat with a smoothly calm expression, though Reyne worried he was thinking of his wife as much as of the mission. Boden’s strong features were tense as he stared straight ahead. Critch’s crew remained stoic, but Reyne knew they had to be anxious to retrieve their captain.

  Seda and his men also bore cool looks, not a single man fidgeting with his rifle. Reyne trusted his team, but he most certainly did not trust the stationmaster and his team. Over the past day, he’d constantly reconsidered his earlier decision about calling in the specters, but there was no time to wait for them to fly to Terra now.

  Reyne checked the time and swallowed before speaking quietly. “It’s time. Give a thumbs up if you’re good to go.”

  Each man lifted a thumb. Reyne motioned to his handpicked team of Sixx, Boden, and Birk, leaving everyone else to provide much-needed cover fire from their present location. Reyne’s team of four, each carrying a long harpoon gun, hustled over what was left of the house wall and piled into the small hovercraft Sixx had stolen earlier that day. Over the past couple of hours, Boden had been attaching makeshift armor to its body. The team hoped it would be enough to stop photon fire.

  Reyne took the driver’s seat and laid his harpoon across his lap. He took one final look at the setting sun. The darkness offered no benefit against drones, but it could offer a slight advantage if Reyne and his team were still there when human reinforcements showed up. He looked back across the faces of his team. “Ready for this?”

  “Ready
, boss,” Sixx said without hesitation.

  “Ready,” Boden and Birk echoed.

  Reyne nodded and then accelerated. The hovercraft moved slowly at first, groaning under the excess weight.

  “Two hundred meters out,” Sixx said after they had driven some distance.

  Two drones lit up and lifted from their perches.

  “Twelve minutes starts now,” Birk added.

  “One hundred meters out,” Sixx said.

  A drone fired a warning shot. The next instant it was shot out of the air by a photon blast from the team behind them. The second drone was destroyed before the first one hit the ground.

  Soon after, Sixx said, “Fifty meters.”

  Drones erupted from across the wall, answered by a cacophony of return gunfire from the support team.

  “Twenty meters. Bingo.”

  Reyne yanked the hovercraft to a stop, turning it parallel to the prison. All four men jumped out and crouched behind the safety of the reinforced hovercraft. They leveled their harpoon guns on the preprogrammed target.

  Drones moved in and shot at them, and sparks burned his skin. Just as Reyne suspected, they were in over their heads, his support team’s barrage drawing the attention of the drones. As Reyne had hoped, the drones deemed live gunfire more of a threat than men standing near the Citadel.

  “Eleven minutes,” Birk said without looking up from his wrist comm.

  “Fire when ready,” Reyne commanded. The men stood and four thoomps were heard in quick succession as four harpoons flew toward the wall. Each hit its mark, forming a square in the stone. Smaller harpoons shot out from each harpoon, resembling giant metal spiders.

  “Three, two, one, now,” Reyne ordered. He hit a button on his gun, and all four harpoons exploded, sending rock and debris flying.

  The drones must’ve recalculated Reyne’s team as the greater threat once the harpoons were fired, because they reversed directions and flew toward the four men.

  Reyne tossed his harpoon gun. “Into the craft now!”

  The drones were now firing nonstop at Reyne’s team while the support team fired nonstop at the drones. Drones dropped from the air, only to be replaced by new drones arriving from within the Citadel.

  Ducking, they each piled into the hovercraft between close shots.

  “I’m hit,” Birk called out. “Don’t worry. Nothing critical.”

  Several larger drones emerged from the walls of the Citadel. Whereas the others had single photon rifles, the new drones came armed with full photon arrays.

  Reyne drove the hovercraft toward the Citadel’s wall. As the dust cleared, he could make out a shape jumping through the freshly made hole. The man in a drab gray uniform landed on the ground and weaved through gunfire. A drone dove at Critch, who knelt and held out something in his hand. Lights on the drone blinked out and the automaton fell the last few feet to the ground. Reyne sped toward him, and Sixx threw open a door in time for Critch to dive onto Sixx’s lap.

  Sixx yanked the door shut just as a drone fired into it. “Yow. That’s hot,” Sixx exclaimed.

  A blast burned a hole through the armor plate covering the windshield. The large drone facing off against them lined up to fire again, but a shot from behind knocked the drone to the side, skewing its next shot. It watched them momentarily, and then zoomed away in the direction of their support team.

  Reyne spun the hovercraft around and accelerated as fast as the bloated craft could go.

  “Ten minutes,” Birk said, handing Critch a bag containing clothes, boots, and weapons.

  In return, Critch dropped a micro-EMP covered in dry blood into Birk’s open palm. “Souvenir.”

  Boden tapped on the window. “Seems like we’re no longer the primary threat. All the drones are going after the gunfire. Our guys are doing their job.”

  Sixx shoved Critch off him. “My god, you smell awful.”

  “I didn’t have time to shower for our date tonight,” Critch snapped back.

  “Uh oh. We’ve got droms joining the party,” Boden called out.

  Reyne snapped around to see a CUF patrol craft speeding toward them and two more patrol craft speeding toward their support team. Impossible.

  “I don’t understand. My timer is working right,” Birk said. “We still have ten minutes on the clock.”

  “I think someone’s playing against us,” Reyne gritted out.

  An explosion in the distance was followed by incessant gunfire.

  “Our guys are taking a beating back there,” Sixx said.

  “They’re gaining on us,” Boden announced.

  “You’re driving like an old lady,” Critch said.

  “You want to drive?” Reyne countered.

  “Yes.”

  “Well, you can’t.”

  “They’re just about on us,” Boden called out.

  An explosion rocked the hovercraft, and Reyne temporarily lost control. By the time he righted the vehicle, Boden whistled. “Someone on our team had a mini-cannon. I didn’t know anyone had those anymore.”

  “Chutt had one,” Critch said as he peeled off the cloned skin that had disguised his scarred face. “He doesn’t need it anymore.”

  No one spoke after that.

  Reyne drove down the road and stopped at an abandoned shed. Everyone toppled out of the limping hovercraft and migrated behind the shed and toward their getaway vehicle, a larger—and also stolen—hovercraft. Once inside, Reyne sent a message to Critch’s team still with Seda. He grabbed the wheel and headed away from Rebus Station, careful to not speed or drive erratically.

  Critch quickly changed his clothes and then sat in the seat next to Reyne. As he pulled on his boots, he spoke. “Thanks for coming. I was going to hit my beacon tonight.”

  The words were quiet, but Reyne acknowledged them with slight nod. “I’d rather be early than late. The rest of your crew is taking a separate route to the rendezvous point.”

  Reyne drove for a bit before glancing over at Critch. “Did you really volunteer to get arrested?”

  He gave a small nod. “It was a solid plan at the time, but once we got inside, it turned out to be…more complicated than I expected. I recognized many faces, but they’ve changed so much.” He held up a loose flap of cloned skin. “Of course they didn’t recognize me. Vym didn’t even recognize me.”

  “So she’s still alive?”

  “Yeah, but she doesn’t look too good.” He paused. “We have to get all of them out of there.”

  “Did you get what we need to do that?”

  Critch nodded. “Yes, and I passed around the word to be ready. I told them Drake Fender was coming for his torrents.”

  Reyne tilted his head. “You think they’ll fight again?”

  “Some have died. Some have given up. Some have gone crazy; others have gone feral. But most have never stopped fighting.”

  “We’ll get them out of there. First we’re going to have to deal with Seda.”

  Critch frowned. “You think he played us?”

  “The CUF arrived within two minutes of the alarm. Do you really think three squads were driving out of town and in the general vicinity of the Citadel at that time of day?”

  His features hardened. “Not a chance.”

  Critch pulled out a small chain from the bag Birk had handed him and slid it over his head. Reyne knew the chain bore a small rilon charm. He knew because he wore one, too. Every torrent wore one.

  It was the torrent teardrop.

  The small, simple symbol that could be mistaken as a raindrop from the eversea was the culmination of three ideological components of the rebellion. Water represented the torrent army, the teardrop itself represented the struggle the fringe faced under the Collective, and rilon represented the indestructible torrent spirit.

  Reyne wore his teardrop with great pride.

  When they reached a rock quarry, Reyne pulled into the small parking lot and stopped under a sign that read FAULK INDUSTRIES.

  He frowned. “
I see business has been good for Seda. I didn’t realize he owned the quarries now. That means he’s probably got eyes on us right now.”

  “I take it the RP’s in the tunnels?” Critch asked.

  “We’re supposed to meet back in the colony. I’m changing the plans.” He scanned the area, his gaze settling on the office to see any sign of cameras. “Let’s get to the tunnels.”

  They hurried through the darkness until they reached the entrance to the tunnels located on the other side of the quarry. There, Reyne looked over his shoulder one last time, half expecting the CUF to be right behind them.

  With his jaw set hard, he stepped inside the old mining tunnels, and the walls seemed to close in, threatening to suffocate him. The dusty smell, cooler temperatures, and stony echoes brought Reyne back to the months he’d lived within the mountain. With Critch at his side, he felt like the same marshal he’d been two decades ago…just with more aches and pains.

  Everyone except Critch carried a flashlight, and the lights danced off the stone and beams as they walked.

  “They haven’t changed much in twenty years,” Reyne said, clutching his flashlight in a death grip as he made the first turn. “I checked them out yesterday.”

  Critch spoke. “Funny how some things stay burned in memory. I think I could still get around these tunnels with my eyes closed.”

  “I think I could, too,” Reyne said.

  They walked in silence, their steps echoing down the caverns.

  “You call that a gunshot? You’re not even bleeding,” Sixx said from behind them.

  “I said it wasn’t critical,” Birk replied.

  Reyne glanced back to see Birk holding up his hand, with the tip of his pinky finger now missing. He smirked.

  “I think you’ll survive,” Critch said.

  “Damn it, I told you guys it wasn’t critical,” Birk said once again, then added quietly, “But it sure does hurt.”

  Critch’s humor was all too brief as his gaze returned to the direction they’d come from. “I got what I needed, but the cost was too high on this one.” After a brief pause, he spoke again. “I’m going to make sure it was worth it by getting every last person out of there.”