Chasing Mayhem

by Cynthia Sax

  First, he had to kill the grizzled old warrior standing between his Imee and her family. Mayhem gripped a dagger in his right hand and flew toward the guard.

  The humanoid must have sensed his approach. He glanced toward him, lifted his long gun. His finger lowered over the trigger.

  Mayhem reached him before he could shoot the long gun. His right arm arched. His blade slashed through the guard’s throat.

  The weapon fell. Mayhem caught it before it clattered to the floor and returned it to his adversary, pointing the muzzle at the far wall, curling the male’s twitching fingers around the barrel.

  As a warrior, he would want to die with a weapon in his hands. He’d award that same honor to his enemy.

  The humanoid male wasn’t conscious of any honor. He sank sightlessly downward, leaving a trail of red blood on the gray wall. His booted feet kicked as the last sparks of life left him.

  He’d ended one guard’s lifespan here and another guard’s lifespan at the docking bay. Mayhem’s kill rate wouldn’t increase much with this mission.

  His gaze slid to his female.

  Frustration twisted her lips. Her kill rate hadn’t increased at all.

  And it wouldn’t increase, if he had his way. If she could kill a target, that target could kill her.

  He positioned himself at the side of the doors, motioned to her to move behind him. She silently fumed yet she obeyed him. That compliance pleased Mayhem.

  He placed his left palm on the control panel. The doors slid open.

  “Brox, you know you can’t--” A young yellow feathered humanoid turned around, saw him and stopped talking. He reached for his guns.

  Daggers whizzed over Mayhem’s shoulders. One dagger lodged in the humanoid’s throat, a finger’s-width left of the larynx. The other blade stabbed the wall beside the male’s head, piercing the panel, the twang alarmingly loud.

  The humanoid opened his mouth.

  Mayhem flung himself at his opponent, covered his lips with one of his palms and yanked on the dagger’s hilt with his other hand, cutting deeper, raggedly. The male struggled. He tightened his hold, the humanoid’s jawbone crunching under his grip.

  It was an ugly kill.

  Mayhem released the male, allowing the corpse to slump on the floor. “You’re to stay behind me, my female.” He cleaned the spittle off his hands, the blood off her blade.

  “I stayed behind you.” Her feet were braced apart, her stance adorably defiant.

  He wanted to kiss her senseless.

  His female was a warrior. She was trained for battle, loved the hunt. He yearned to protect Imee but loving her meant putting her wants first. She needed to take action.

  To stop her from fighting would be infringing on her freedom, imprisoning her as he was once imprisoned, forcing her to operate by rules that weren’t her own.

  Fraggin’ hole. He couldn’t do that to her. This mission was personal to her. The beings held her loved ones, had damaged at least one of them, cutting off her sister’s finger.

  If a being cut off Imee’s finger, he’d want revenge.

  He had to control his concern.

  She deserved to fight, even if that meant putting her lifespan at risk.

  His task was to minimize that risk, ensure others didn’t damage her as she fought, make certain she survived her battles.

  That would be easier to do if she had different weapons.

  “The walls are thick, dampening the sound.” He tossed her a gun he’d calibrated for both of them to use. She caught it one-handed, his female skilled. “Use a gun next time.”

  “That will be quicker.” Her eyes gleamed.

  The fight excited her as it did him. Mayhem glanced toward the next set of doors. “A guard will be positioned inside the holding chambers.”

  “You can have him,” she generously offered. “I got the last one.”

  He removed the dagger from the wall, slid the two blades into her sheaths, re-arming his tiny female. “We both got the last one.” He held onto their hilts, not allowing her to retreat. “Don’t take unnecessary risks, my female.”

  “What is the fun in that?” She laughed, using his words to tease him.

  He grinned, turned, blocking his female from any attack, and opened the doors.

  A thickset male seated in front of a horizontal support frowned at him. “Who the fuck are--”

  Imee shot him in the forehead, blasting skull and brain matter onto the wall behind him. The male and his chair toppled backward, the clatter making Mayhem wince.

  “What happened to ‘you can have him’?” He shook his head, his lips twitching with mirth.

  “You were too slow.” Her happiness fed his, expanding his joy.

  He would never be bored around his female. She would keep him guessing, challenge him as she challenged herself.

  “After this mission is over, we’ll mock fight and I’ll show you which one of us is too slow.” Mayhem kept his senses tuned for any approaching beings. Even a human would have heard the noise they’d made.

  No one responded. The holding chambers were deathly still.

  “That being won’t be me.” His female eyed the humanoid she’d killed. “You’d think they’d be more cautious, place more guards at the entrance.” She glanced up at him. “It feels like a trap.”

  It did feel wrong. “When Retrievers tried in the past--”

  “None of them got this far,” his female explained. “They didn’t access the administrative station. The tracking device gave away some of the early attempts. Those Retrievers were killed, their deaths recorded as a warning to the rest of us.” Her expression turned grim. “A couple of the Retrievers cut off their arms. That rid them of the tracking devices but they didn’t have access codes.”

  Not being cyborgs, they would have had challenges accessing the station’s systems. “The Humanoid Alliance is arrogant.” That was one of their biggest weaknesses, underestimating his cyborg brethren, the rebels, his female. “They might have believed no being could access the station and that the extra guards were unnecessary.”

  “They might.” Her expressive face reflected his doubt. “Even one guard would deter beings from escaping. My family is unskilled. They’d also be unarmed.”

  Mayhem doubted being unskilled and unarmed would stop his fearless female from doing anything.

  “They must be here.” Imee looked around them. “My family is their only leverage against me, against the other Retrievers. They would keep them in the center of the chambers.”

  “That’s logical.” Mayhem expanded his scan of the area, detected beings—three of them, all human, positioned far apart from each other.

  Were those beings her mom, sister, brother? Was her family the only beings held on this station?

  His processors told him that was unlikely.

  His heart hoped he was wrong.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Imee followed Mayhem through the huge chamber. Multi-level horizontal supports loomed to the left and to the right, a seemingly never-ending grid of vertical pillars and perpendicular planes reaching the ceiling. Black rectangular containers were set on the flat surfaces. All of them were the same. There were rows and rows of rectangular containers as high and as far as she could see.

  Imee didn’t care about containers. Her focus was on finding her family.

  Her mom, sister, brother were somewhere in this chamber. They were breathing the same air. If she yelled, they might hear her.

  She was that close to them.

  Mayhem paused at an intersection and lifted his right index finger to his lips.

  Imee listened, heard nothing, only the whirl of the ventilation system. His cyborg senses put him at an advantage and that irked her. She placed her hands on his back. He leaned toward her, silently acknowledging the connection between them.

  Metal scraped against the floor, the grating noise growing louder and louder. The approaching male mumbled to himself, his words indecipherable.

&
nbsp; Mayhem shifted in front of her, blocking her view. Her blasted cyborg was protecting her again. That piqued her pride while warming her heart.

  He cared enough about her to put himself in harm’s way to safeguard her. But he thought she required safeguarding.

  She didn’t. Imee gripped her gun. She might be weak in some ways, her emotions threatening to spill over once again, but she could protect herself.

  A tall, thin human male pushed a conveyance along the aisle. So many containers were stacked upon it; the bottom dragged along the floor.

  “RET67238, RET67248.” The male read the notices fastened to the multi-level horizontal supports. His voice was loud. There were auditory devices in his ears. He likely couldn’t hear his own voice. “RET67258.”

  Those were Retriever identification numbers. Imee glanced at the multi-level horizontal support beside her. Every container had a corresponding notice.

  “RET67268, RET67278.” The male walked past them, not noticing their presence.

  It was quarter end. Perhaps they were filing a report on each Retriever. Imee wondered what her report said about her.

  Mayhem waited until the male’s voice and the annoying scraping sound had faded. Then he shot across the aisle, moving with a speed and a silence she envied.

  She trailed him. Their view didn’t change. Imee hurried to keep pace with her cyborg warrior. Her muscles ached. Sweat trickled down her spine. Mayhem showed no indication that the exertion had any impact on him.

  They passed more multi-level horizontal supports, more containers. There were tens of thousands of Retrievers, situated all over the galaxy. There would be a lot of reports to file.

  And a lot of families to guard.

  Yet the multi-level horizontal supports didn’t end. The space didn’t convert to holding areas for living, breathing beings, well-cared for, as the Humanoid Alliance had asserted they would be, protected. She didn’t see any guards, any stores of rations, any nourishment bars. There was no piping conveying water.

  The two of them ran and ran. The containers in this area were dirtier, more banged up. There were gaps in their numbering. Those Retrievers must have died and their containers were removed. She thought of the Retriever who had lost control of her targets. A final report might be filed for her but after that, none would be necessary.

  That could have been her.

  Mayhem slowed, then stopped. They faced a solid wall.

  She pressed her right palm against the cool surface, breathless with excitement. “Is this the center?” Was her family beyond that wall? Could her mom be standing there right now, resting her palm on the other side of it, their hands separated by a mere panel?

  “This is the end, my female.” Mayhem turned toward her.

  His solemn expression made her nervous. “The end? The end of what?” She didn’t understand.

  “The end of the holding chambers.”

  “But my family.” Imee glanced around her. “Where are they?”

  “They aren’t here,” Mayhem bluntly stated.

  Her family wasn’t here. They’d broken into the administrative station for nothing, risked their lives, killed others for no reason. Disappointment swelled inside her. She struggled to control it. Disappointment was another weak, useless emotion.

  “The Humanoid Alliance must have transferred them.” Imee rubbed her forehead as she forced herself to think. “But where?”

  “The transmission came from here, my female.” Mayhem’s voice was soft.

  She knew what he thought—they were dead. But there was no proof of that and there were other explanations for their absence. “It was sent almost a solar cycle ago. The Humanoid Alliance moved our families and didn’t tell us.” Maybe they were moved to a planet. Maybe her brother had that agri lot he wanted. “We’ll find them.”

  “How?”

  How? How? She tapped a container with her booted toes, thinking, thinking.

  Then she realized what she was doing. She was kicking a container, a container of reports, reports on every Retriever.

  “We have to find my container.” Imee dashed along the aisles. One of those reports would have her family’s current location on it. She was certain of it.

  “Be cautious, my female.” Mayhem followed her, his gun drawn. He guarded her as she searched and she allowed that.

  Because he was right. She wasn’t being cautious. Finding her family was paramount, a frantic urgency building within her. “The next being we see is yours to kill.” Imee trusted him to take care of any threat.

  Mayhem grunted.

  Imee found the container labeled with her identification number. It was, of course, set on the highest horizontal support. She gazed up at it. “How--”

  “I’ll lower it.” Her cyborg smacked his palm on a control panel.

  The horizontal supports rotated.

  “Those Humanoid Alliance report pushers had better have said nice things about me.” She huffed as she opened the container. The lid creaked.

  She kneeled by the container and peered inside. Chips were scattered on top of a familiar looking red fabric. “Scan these.” Imee handed the chips to her cyborg. She didn’t like using him like a machine but, not having a viewscreen with her, she didn’t have a choice. “Look for anything that might tell us their current location.”

  “Imee--”

  “Just do it. Please. For me.” She didn’t want to hear that they might not be alive.

  They were. They had to be.

  She shook out the red fabric and her heart squeezed. It was the garment her mom had been wearing the planet rotation they were captured.

  The stain on the arm was dark from a projectile wound. The gash had been minor, not lifespan threatening, yet it had still shocked Imee. Before that moment, she had thought her mom was invincible.

  The shoulder of the garment was torn. A Humanoid Alliance warrior had grabbed her mom, dragging her in front of the Commander.

  “This was my mom’s.” Imee brought the fabric to her nose and breathed in. Her mom’s familiar floral scent still clung to it.

  “My female.” Mayhem placed one of his palms between her shoulder blades.

  “They’d want her to wear Humanoid Alliance flight suits, to have no reminder of our home planet, of our culture.” She set the garment aside. “That’s why they stored this.”

  Her sister’s garment was similar to her mom’s, except smaller. There were tears in it. All of Jae’s garments had them. Her little sister had been a rowdy child, always thunking Imee with her toys.

  Her brother’s garments were even tinier than Jae’s, his little fabric boots adorable. He’d been a baby when the Humanoid Alliance had invaded.

  Would they have had baby garments?

  If they hadn’t, her mom would have crafted some from other garments. She was resourceful and skilled in using a fastener.

  Imee removed a square translucent repository and sucked in her breath. It was a hand, preserved in liquid, the fingernails short and blunt from digging in dirt, the palm lined from holding agri lot devices, from tending offspring.

  “Why?” Imee gazed at Mayhem. “I met quota. I did everything they wanted. Why would they torture my mom like this?” Her dear kind mom always had nice things to say about everyone, would never knowingly hurt someone else. “She isn’t like me. She’s a good being.”

  “Imee--”

  “No.” She saw the pity in his dark eyes. “She’s alive. A being can live without her hand. Some of the Retrievers lived without their arms.” She heard the desperation, the pleading in her voice. “It isn’t logical to kill my family. They’re the only reason I hunt for the Humanoid Alliance.”

  “It isn’t logical to tell you they’re--”

  “Don’t say it.” She set down her mom’s right hand. “Don’t say they’re dead. They aren’t.”

  But in her heart, she knew…she knew and she couldn’t bear it, couldn’t deal with it. She shook, fighting the panic, the sorrow, the grief.
<
br />   “You’ll always have me.”

  No, she wouldn’t have him. He valued strength and she was losing hers, her power fading with her hope. Soon, she’d have none left and then he’d leave. She’d be completely alone.

  “My female--”

  “Did you scan the chips?” Her voice was sharp. “Did you find out where they’re holding my family?”

  Mayhem switched one chip for another, inserting it into his neck interface. “You know I didn’t, my female.”

  She didn’t want to know that. She didn’t want to accept the truth.

  There was still hope, still a chance that they were alive.

  Imee gazed at the lip of the container, not wanting to reach into it, to face reality, not if it meant she’d never see her mom, her sister, her brother again.

  “I could look at the contents of the container,” Mayhem offered.

  It was tempting to say yes, to give that task to him, but they were her family, her responsibility. “The container is mine.” It had her identification number on it.

  She reached into the container, her fingers touched cool metal and the last lingering flicker of hope inside her was doused. Her dad had given the intricately crafted golden-colored armlet to her mom on their bonding day. Her mom never removed it, not even when she cleansed herself.

  “Did that belong to your mom also?” Mayhem asked.

  Imee nodded, stunned, in shock, the ache in her chest spreading.

  “She’s dead.” She managed to say the words.

  Silence stretched. She breathed in, breathed out, breathed in, breathed out, close to breaking, knowing when she did, she’d lose Mayhem also.

  “It serves no functional purpose.” Her cyborg pointed out. “A being can live without it.”

  “That being isn’t my mom.” Her mom would have never allowed the Humanoid Alliance to take it from her. “The armlet represents my dad’s soul.” Her voice cracked. “He gifted it to my mom for safekeeping. Taking it off would doom him to an eternity wandering the skies, alone and unloved. My mom loved my dad. She’d never condemn him to that fate, would die before she allowed that to happen.”

  Imee closed her eyes, sealing her tears within her eyelids. “Leave me, Mayhem. Please.”