True Cost: The Descendants War Book 5

by John Walker

  “That’s probably what Griel was talking about,” Rhys said, “they were contained to a straightforward, predictable fight.”

  “I could see that.” Titus nodded. “Which is probably why they wanted us for relief effort and not to engage. Griel has a serious grievance with the Kahl that goes beyond a soldier’s duty. I knew that before. This makes it a lot more obvious. Keep up your fire, Sam. Jane, maintain distance to target.”

  Rhys said, “We’ve got… maybe a minute before the others have a firing solution on us, and that’s only because they have to turn around.”

  “Got it.” Titus leaned forward, staring at the screen. Come on, you bastard. Give it up. The HUD showed their shields were hovering around twenty percent. Parts of their hull glowed red. They’d gotten through here and there. A few more moments of sustained fire would finish them off.

  Would it be enough time?

  It needs to be. Before we go on the defensive against five more, I’d like to wrap this guy up.

  Chapter 6

  Alon woke with a start. Strong hands held him down. He grabbed at them. Someone shushed him but he ignored it, continuing to struggle. His vision tunneled in panic. Pain drove him on, agony from his torso that stretched out to his limbs, making his legs numb and his feet ache.

  “Hold him!” Alon recognized the woman’s voice. He looked up at Niva who fought to keep him down. “Come on, Tiller! Get over here!”

  “It’s…” Alon slackened, flopping back to rest. “I’m sorry. I… I’m okay now. I just…”

  “You sure?” Niva asked. “Because that was bad.”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry. I thought I was…” Alon winced. “What happened? Am I okay?”

  “You’ll be fine soon. Or at least well enough to move around.” Niva rolled her eyes as Tiller arrived. “You’re too late. Get back to the door.”

  “Why aren’t we back on the ship?”

  “The station went to warp,” Niva replied, “it’s a long story about what we’re dealing with but suffice to say, we’re in trouble. I need you back on your feet. I’ve given you something called vitrazine. It’s a drug that encourages healing and numbs the area. I gave you a double dose in fact so you can help us out.”

  “Will that be safe?”

  “Honestly, you reclining here isn’t remotely safe.” Niva turned to the door. “We’re gathering the data we came here for but there are still a lot of unknowns about this place. Not to mention the fact we’re still working on keeping the thing from blowing up. The Custodians are on that. The Manager’s with us.”

  “Okay.” Alon nodded. “And you think I can get back to work?”

  “Your armor kept you alive. The vitrazine will do the rest. Hopefully, you’ll be on guard duty. At least until we can get Andrews.”

  “The shuttle… we’re not going to take it?”

  “It’ll be useless. No warp drive.”

  “Wow.” Alon pinched the bridge of his nose. “So how’re we getting out of here?”

  Niva winked. “Leave that part to me. Right now, I’m letting you take a minute to acclimate to consciousness. Then we’re back at it, right soldier?”

  Alon nodded, sitting up. The effort rewarded him with a wave of nausea. “Oof, glad I did that.”

  “It won’t be easy. You’re in for a time.” Niva clapped him on the shoulder. “Tiller will be here with you.” She turned away. “Pay close attention to what’s going on. Watch the door and him. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  “Where’re you going?” Tiller asked.

  “You’ll know soon.”

  “Leave her alone,” Alon said. “I know what she’s up to. Get me my gun.” He turned his attention to the robust man in the corner. “You the Manager then?”

  “Uh, yes. Yes, I am.” The comment brought out a fake smile, the kind reserved for junk sellers. “I’m pleased to meet you, ah… what’s your name?”

  “Sergeant,” Alon said. “Thanks for playing games with us, prick. You could’ve just given us what we needed.”

  “You have to understand my position,” the Manager replied. “I’ve got a scary crew to answer to. And the resources to keep this place going are extensive. Why, I would say—”

  “Cut it,” Alon interrupted. “I don’t care. Do you have any idea where this tub is going?”

  “No. But I can say that it will be remote. Somewhere safe. We always go somewhere safe. It takes nearly a week to build up to a second warp run. You understand.”

  “Not remotely.” Alon took his weapon from Tiller then slipped off the bed. He steadied himself for a moment, letting his pulse go to normal before taking his first step. Wow, this is really bad. “Have we encountered hostiles in this area since I went down? How dangerous is this area?”

  “None yet,” Tiller said. “I’m thinking they’re all running around trying to find salvage for when we come out of warp. The question is how many warp-capable ships are on the platform. Or still docked for that matter.”

  Alon nodded. He glanced at the Manager. “You know the answer to that question?”

  “I’m afraid not. Most of them launched to deal with your battleships.”

  “Unbelievable.” Alon rubbed his eyes. “Seriously, those people threw themselves away for you. Why? Do you have some amazing security people? And if so, where are they now? How do you stay in power?”

  “We have security,” the Manager replied. “We lost some when they went to investigate an unauthorized ship. Others may have died in the fighting. I can’t say. We haven’t run a tally yet.”

  “They’re asleep at the job.” Alon pointed toward the hall. “Allowing this place to be overrun by crooks. I’m curious how you’ll fix this when you get to your new location.”

  “I’m not sure I follow.”

  “Why is anyone going to trust you again?” Alon asked. “What’s the incentive? After all, you’ve been pillaged. You tossed your freelancers to the wolves. I don’t see how you come back from that.”

  “Wealth,” the Manager said. “We have a lot of it. And the jobs too. Contacts throughout the universe. Even if we didn’t make amends, we command loyalty because it’s easier than figuring out where to steal from. You may scoff, but that’s how things work here. We provide a steady stream of jobs in exchange for resources.”

  “And lives.” Alon walked away, entering the hallway. He looked in both directions. “Did my helmet not survive?”

  “It’s over there,” Tiller gestured. “Your armor won’t take another hit to the torso though so… there is that.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Alon rolled his eyes. “I’m glad you’re around for statements of the obvious, Corporal.” He came back to grab his helmet, thrusting it on. The HUD booted up a moment later, depicting his vitals along with a red flag about the torso armor. Yes, everyone wants me to know. Thank you.

  “Hey,” Tiller called. “I’ve got some movement to the left. Opposite way Niva went.”

  Alon joined him, watching down the way. His helmet chased away most of the shadows, providing good visibility. A flash made the visor dim. He fell back into the room as a blast struck the door frame several inches above his head. Tiller crouched, laying down some heavy fire.

  “How many?” Alon shouted.

  “Three,” Tiller replied calmly. “Make that two. Oops. They’ve got friends around the corner down there.”

  “Stop!” Alon’s helmet translated the person’s shouts. “We only want the medical supplies. Back off and we won’t kill you all!”

  “Hey,” Alon turned to the Manager, “tell them off, huh?”

  The Manager’s eyes widened. He stepped close to the door, shouting back in their language, “We’re not giving you anything! So leave us alone!”

  Not exactly intimidating, Alon thought, but I guess it’ll have to do. “How’d you only get one of them? They were in the hallway, Tiller!”

  “The first one was close. His buddies took cover. At least they’re not shooting right now.” Tiller hu
mmed. “I’ll bet we could get Niva to come around behind them. Give them a little blast to the ass, you know what I’m saying?”

  “We don’t have a precise number.” Alon looked around the room. “I don’t know these chemicals. Can’t exactly make a bomb with stuff I’ve never seen.” He sighed. “We’re doing this the hard way then. I’ll take the edge of the door high. You stay low. When they come, we light them up. Got it?”

  “I mean, it was pretty simple, Sarge,” Tiller replied. “But yes, I’ve got it.”

  Everyone’s got attitude. Alon missed Hans. Not that he wasn’t full of his own special breed of snark but somehow, it wasn’t annoying. Back when they first met, the man saved his life. And now he’s gone. Christ, this isn’t the best time to be lamenting a buddy. Focus, dammit! Focus!

  “We’re taking those supplies!” the man at the end of the hall shouted. “And it seems it’ll be over your dead forms!”

  Strange translation. Alon drew a deep breath, peering down the sight of his weapon. A thought struck him. “Tiller, change your angle. Watch the other direction. We’re in a dead end but they aren’t.”

  The corporal shifted, crying out as he let loose with his gun. Shots came back at him, a couple skimming his shoulders. Alon poked his weapon around the corner, helping to put down some suppressive shots. That act brought out the ones they’d been anticipating. As soon as two weapons focused in one direction, they charged.

  Spinning the rifle on them, Alon tore at their legs. The first one in the line caught a blow to the knee, stumbling before taking to the floor on his shoulder. He rolled several feet then became an obstacle for his buddies. Pulling his aim higher, Alon knocked one in the shoulder, another in the chest.

  There was a hell of a lot more than five, though. Their dedication to the medical supplies shocked him. There must be easier things to steal on this station! Stuff that doesn’t require a full-on military charge! Yet they didn’t slow down. He put another two down before it became obvious they’d make the door.

  The enemy only returned fire a couple times and always wide or high. The ones behind them put up a bigger fight, or at least hit them harder. Suppressive fire to keep Tiller busy. That’s the game here. We can’t handle them when they get closer.

  “Get back!” Alon ordered. “Now!” He fired a few more shots as Tiller stepped away then tapped the panel to close the door. “How do we lock this?” He shouted at the Manager. “Come on! They’re going to kill us all!”

  The Manager stumbled as he bolted from his chair, his girth jiggling as he rushed to the door. He jabbed his chubby fingers into the screen, putting in a five-digit code. Alon heard their opponents outside slamming on the panel on their side. They shouted at one another, words even his translator couldn’t decipher.

  “How long before they breakthrough?” Alon asked. “Do they need to crack that code or will they find another way?”

  “I don’t know!” the Manager shouted. “I sincerely don’t! The Custodian stated it’s very difficult for people to break through our security so there’s that at least. I’d say we’re relatively safe. For the time being. After all, they’re little more than criminals! What can they possibly do? Or know for that matter?”

  Alon tilted his head as he stared at the man. If his expression had been visible, he hoped it would’ve shamed the fat idiot. Words escaped him for a moment. When he reclaimed his senses, he spoke evenly. Mostly for the translator to do its work. “And what exactly do you pay these people to do?”

  “They steal things.”

  “And where do things worth stealing usually reside? What’s the most basic security measure to keep them safe?”

  The Manager’s eyes widened. “Oh… I see where you’re going.”

  “Great.” Alon tapped the computer on his wrist. “Niva, Vesper, we’ve got a problem. Some assholes decided to raid the infirmary for chems and supplies. They’re right outside the door and mad as hell. I estimate they can be through in… less than ten minutes.”

  “You sure about that?” Niva asked.

  “No, I’m probably being generous to the security. I killed a few of them so maybe I got lucky and nailed their computer specialist. No clue, though. Right now, we’re held up. And after what we did to repel them, I’m thinking they won’t be generous about letting us walk out of here.”

  “Understood,” Niva said. “I’m not close. Contact the Custodian. Have him lock the door down from wherever he is. He should be able to keep them out indefinitely. If he’s not available for whatever reason, try randomizing the passcode.”

  “I mean, I’m flattered you think I know how to do that—”

  “Have the Manager do it.”

  “Dude doesn’t seem like the brightest person when it comes to… any of this stuff. I’m not sure we can rely on him to be much help.”

  “Then use the door to your advantage and kill as many of them as you can when they get through. Take cover. Those are your options right now. Niva out.”

  Thanks a lot.

  Alon backed away from the door. He turned to the Manager, asking him if he could do any of the things she mentioned. As predicted, he had no clue. They reached out to the Custodian next. He was nowhere near a terminal. Another dead end. At least for ten minutes.

  “Looks like we’re doing this the hard way, Tiller.” Alon examined one of the beds. The platform had wheels, making it easy to move around the room. There were two total. He grabbed one, shoving it over to the door. That’ll give them pause. “Help me prep this other one for cover.”

  Tiller helped him move it back toward the wall. “I say one of us sticks to this cover and the other goes to the corner on the other side.” He gestured. “That way we can blast them as they come in.”

  “That’s insane,” Alon replied, “you won’t have any cover when they decide to turn in that direction to take you out.”

  “Gotta get in the door to turn,” Tiller shrugged. “And I’ll be low. It’ll work. I promise.”

  “I need you to be safe.” Alon gestured to the table. “Take cover back there. It’s the best bet we have for the duration of this fight. They can only squeeze two through the door at once. It’ll be no big deal to hold them.” He turned to the Manager. “You get back here too. Stay down, keep your back against the frame.”

  “Of course.” The Manager hurried over, huddling low.

  That’s self-preservation. Alon positioned himself next to the bed, aiming his weapon over the surface. Tiller took the left side. The enemy continued tinkering with the panel, making an incredible ruckus. I think they’re taking it apart. Probably going to hotwire the door open. Makes more sense than trying to break some long ass code.

  The HUD showed a cluster of figures beyond the door, more than ten. Are they all part of the same crew? Or are the criminals collaborating? How much of the Flotilla did they plan on looting? Did the Custodian or Manager have any method of keeping them in check? It seemed like they lacked any form of centralized security.

  Which means when the visitors go crazy, there’s nothing to stop them. Alon wanted to pose the question to the Manager. Pushing him about their situation might illuminate how bad it could get before they escaped. But that would have to wait. The door began to open, just an inch, as if they were cranking it manually.

  Here we go. Alon aimed at the seam as it widened. But it didn’t move again. What the hell is going on out there? The anticipation made him sweat. All they could do was to remain patient. It’ll come soon enough.

  ***

  Milna took the lead as they drew closer to the hangar doors. Their prisoner only had one piece of useful information. The exact location of the Prytin shuttle that set down. As far as he knew, the pilot remained aboard. If they managed to get aboard, the person might have real answers.

  Once they found out why the Prytin came to the Flotilla, Milna figured they could return to their own ship. Sticking around seemed foolish with the sort of action they already ran into. They came out on top but w
ith only two of them against roaming hordes, she didn’t feel optimistic about their odds.

  “You got a plan here?” Milna asked. “I’m sure the pilot will be nervous considering what’s happened to them.”

  “Talk,” Jok replied. “Reaching out to them should get us access to the vessel. From there, we can have a civil discourse.”

  Milna turned a wide-eyed expression on him. She smiled. Neither of which he could see. Something about her posture must’ve given it away because he waved a hand at her.

  “Don’t look at me like that. What is that look?”

  “Civil… discourse? That’s what you’re going to do? And you couldn’t even see my expression.”

  “Just stop.” Jok moved ahead. “I knew the look, believe me.” He approached the panel, tapped at it for a moment. A litany of curses followed. “This is on low power mode as well. Hopefully, I can still…” He hesitated. “Yes, I think I can…” Another pause. “Yes, and then…”

  “Will you finish a sentence?” Milna snapped. “Or keep all that to yourself?”

  “Sorry…” Jok cleared his throat. “I’m patching into the intercom through there. Their ship undoubtedly has turrets which I’m sure would like nothing more than to slaughter anyone stupid enough to charge in. Therefore, we need to do this with more subtlety. Or at least forewarning.”

  “By all means.” Milna directed her attention to the hallway. She looked up and down the area with her weapon at the ready. Why hadn’t anyone attempted to take this ship? Raiders seemed to be on a warpath throughout the vessel. Anything not fused to the deck was fair game.

  They have a lot to make up for, Milna thought. Loss of their ships, primarily. The question is how do they intend to leave the Flotilla?

  “I’ve been worrying about something,” Milna said, “where are the security forces for this place?”

  “Maybe they died in the fighting,” Jok replied. “Any survivors probably don’t want to be killed so they’d lay low.”