Thieves' Guild Series (7 eBook Box Set): Military Science Fiction - Alien Invasion - Galactic War Novels

by C. G. Hatton

  LC blinked. The hive was closing in. He needed to find NG but for that he needed to take something, anything. He looked round, missing Sienna, not missing the look that Sean gave him. He clicked open the harness and went to stand.

  Sean grabbed his arm. “LC, no.”

  The drop ship rocked again, the pilot swearing as an explosion billowed bright in front of them. LC staggered, reached for a handhold and almost retched as the hit of black void popped against his chest.

  “Negative, MOV. We’re on a tight line here.” That was their pilot. He recognised her voice. “Oh shit, we have incoming, big fucking warship, and we are losing thrusters.”

  Hal Duncan was standing in front of him.

  ‘Hal…’

  The ship lurched again, acceleration harsh, the AG struggling.

  Much more and he was going to throw up. His vision was narrowing, dark edges closing in. He needed it now.

  Duncan turned, hustling, talking urgently to someone, moving along the aisle.

  “Come on, you bastard.” That was Iona. The Thundercloud. “Fallon, how are you doing, babe?”

  “RG one through three empty. Shields at zero. I’m… Gentlemen, ladies, I think all bets are off.”

  “Fallon, what the hell are you doing?”

  LC glanced back over. Hilyer was sitting, hands laced across the back of his head, not casual. LC had seen him like this before, his arms squeezed tight against his skull in desperation.

  LC turned. ‘Hal…’

  Duncan lurched forward, beyond pissed. The big man grabbed him and shoved him into a seat, strapping the harness too tight and taking hold of his arm, hissing, “Find him.”

  LC nodded as Duncan slammed an injector against his wrist.

  The drop ship banked hard.

  The TCs were shouting.

  Hilyer was shouting, “Dammit, Fallon, don’t.”

  Intense heat flared up his arm.

  “Can’t see any other way out, boys,” the TC sent, its voice the only one echoing over the comms as if the others were stunned into silence. “It’s been a blast, everyone. An honour and a privilege. Get home safe.”

  And the link cut off.

  The shockwave as the Thundercloud ploughed into the Bhenykhn destroyer sent them into a spin, multiple impacts hitting their hull.

  LC squeezed his eyes shut, dug his fingernails into his palms, hugging himself tight… and connected with the hive.

  The universe spun, not in slow motion around him, but in a dizzying swirl, input incoming from all directions, alien, taunting, beckoning as it drew him in and held him there.

  It wasn’t the first time. He’d been in the midst of the hive before, by choice and by force. But somehow this time he had more control. It was not that different to being in the mind of an AI. Unreal. Unlimited. Unbound by the laws of physics. But at the same time, it was totally different. The domain of the AIs was cold. Heartless. Chillingly detached. The Bhenykhn hive was furiously hot. Unpredictable. Its only logic being its caste system and the damned hierarchy by which it cascaded its demands. There were no strings to nudge or manipulate. No securities to bypass. It was pure, burning motivation to live, feed, breed, and conquer for the exhilarating thrill of the hunt and the fight, that need tumbling down into each individual Bhenykhn and bouncing back into the hive as a whole. A massive, locust-swarm of an entity that was spreading, unstoppable, from galaxy to galaxy.

  LC drew in a slow breath. He felt their attention, a collective murmur that he was so exposed, right there in their midst.

  They knew him. And they wanted him. Wanted him in their hands. Their curiosity almost rivalling their need to destroy. He’d thwarted them. And they wanted to know what he was.

  He let them see.

  Didn’t resist as they pinned him there under their scrutiny. They didn’t only know about the virus, he realised, they knew it was originated from their own DNA, knew how powerful it was.

  And the bioweapon they’d shot him with was their answer to it.

  Yeah, fuck that.

  They also knew that NG didn’t have the virus. They knew NG was different. It had surprised them and that was infuriating them. NG was infuriating them.

  LC laughed. ‘He’s why you were sent here,’ he thought, mocking them. He’d heard it on the command ship. While he’d been lying bleeding on the floor, he’d heard the commander of that fleet taunt NG with the fact that they’d been given this galaxy, heard NG’s reply as he’d put it together. And it made even more sense now.

  It was really easy to think, clear and commanding, ‘The people that sent you here… Don’t you think they knew?’

  He was drawn further in.

  ‘That we could beat you.’

  Further again.

  ‘And here we are, beating you.’ He used NG’s own words, and felt the familiarity resonate.

  He was close. He wanted to know where they were holding NG and he got close. Tantalisingly close, pushing from one level of command to the next and the next, up the chain, easing his way through and fooling them, letting them think they were learning about him as he was opening up, slipping through, letting them pull him closer as they wanted to know more and more.

  He turned, and reached out.

  He gasped. Surfacing as if he’d been drowning, gasping for air, heart pounding, shaking as if he’d been drenched in ice water.

  Klaxons were blaring, red lights flashing, the hull of the ship lurching, explosions loud, sparks flying.

  “Now,” someone said, urgent, desperate.

  And they jumped. No warning. Long, hard pull that made his senses spin. Again and again until they dropped into cold, quiet space.

  He looked up. He was trembling, small shivers he couldn’t control.

  Sean was holding his arm, kneading his fingers as if she was trying to get some life back into him. She was saying something but he couldn’t make out what. Someone else knelt in front of him but he couldn’t focus.

  He wanted to tell them where NG was, desperately and urgently wanted to say that he knew, that they could go get him but he couldn’t concentrate to form the words.

  He didn’t realise how much trouble he was in until he heard soft voices, close by, worried voices, and he couldn’t open his eyes. He tried to move, didn’t seem to be sitting any more, and didn’t even know where he was.

  He felt a hand against his cheek.

  “LC…” The voice was quiet, distant. “We need to know what you’ve taken, and how much.”

  He tried to move his mouth to speak but it wouldn’t work and he didn’t know what to say anyway. He’d lost track. He never lost track. He didn’t just lose track of anything. Sienna had given him, something, early on, then there was then, when…?

  He felt himself shudder, shutting down.

  “We’ve gotta get him into an isopod,” another voice said.

  No.

  He felt Duncan close by. “He’s had a shit load of krakn, couple of insanity. At least. A handful of g-js and a tonne of moonshine laced with I don’t know what.”

  “Shit.”

  Someone tugged on his arm.

  “Isopod, now, or he’s gonna flatline.”

  He tried to say, “No,” out loud but it didn’t happen. He wanted to say he was fine, but he couldn’t move. He didn’t want to go in a damn isopod. His heart felt like it was going to burst. He could feel the energy building at his fingertips.

  “Put him under. Christ, get this under control or we’re gonna lose him.”

  No.

  Injectors were stinging against his skin.

  A mask descended over his face.

  No.

  Someone touched his hand.

  A spark shot up his arm.

  He felt it amplify.

  He tried to shout out, to warn them, but the scream caught in his throat.

  The energy flared.

  Then black.

  Awareness filtered back slowly.

  He wasn’t in an isopod. Not on the dro
p ship.

  There was a steady quiet beep keeping time with his heartbeat.

  For a second or two he didn’t know where the hell he was, but the senses clicked back in and he overheard medical staff talking a slight distance away, felt the thrum of engines through the bunk. The Man’s ship.

  He breathed, relieved. He was drained. He tried to scan round but it sent his head into a spin, dizzy nausea clutching at his stomach, side aching. His throat was dry, desperately dry so he’d probably been in an isopod for a while. He must have been medevac’d. Standard procedure. He’d been through it enough times. He wasn’t sure what from. Hanover? No. Miranda? That was the last thing he remembered. Waiting for an evac. He didn’t understand why there was no one there with him.

  Then he opened his eyes. He was in a clear isolation cell in the centre of a vast empty room.

  There was an armed guard outside the outer door.

  Not standard.

  He tried to sit and his wrists caught.

  Restrained.

  A hollow twinge hit his chest.

  He had two IV lines in his arm. A black band around his right wrist, a guild biofeedback band. He hadn’t worn one of those since the bounty hunters on Tortuga had ripped Charlie’s off his wrist. There was no reason why they’d give him one now unless they wanted to keep track of him.

  It was definitely the Man’s ship. He couldn’t remember doing anything wrong. His hands started shaking. He couldn’t remember what he’d been doing at all.

  He couldn’t remember.

  He’d hurt someone.

  Oh shit, he’d hurt someone.

  He flashed back to the FOB and that perfect black charred circle of scorched earth around NG, the look of shock on NG’s face as he realised what he’d done.

  LC gasped as sweat blossomed on every inch of his skin, heat welling fast. He tried to get up, grasping for a hold on anything, tugging the IV lines tight. He couldn’t reach anyone. Oh shit, shit, shit. It felt like every cell in his body was on fire.

  He flinched as the emotion in the voices outside flared.

  “No,” someone said, “you’re not listening to me. The virus – the battlefield drugs – the alien bioweapon. His body is fighting a three-way war. And he’s losing. He might be more powerful than he’s ever been, but Evelyn, he’s dying. Do you understand? We take him off the drugs now, we kill him. We give him any more, we kill him. What the hell do you want me to do?”

  Chapter 19

  “You’ve done this before,” he said, realisation dawning heavily. The abandoned base was quiet, dark, the Bhenykhn rifle heavy in his arms. “This game… this charade of shadows and mirrors, manipulation, empire building, dabbling in evolution… How many times have you played it?”

  The Man shook his head slightly, fingers steepled in front of his chin.

  Sebastian walked forward. “Admit it, this is not the first galaxy you’ve toyed with, is it? We’re not the first race you’ve brought to the brink of extinction with your games.”

  There was a long pause then, “No, it is not.”

  That was one hell of an admission.

  Sebastian stared, going deeper. “You didn’t send them here because you thought we could beat them…” That in itself was a discovery buried deep in that alien mind, the end of a tantalising string he could pull and pull and never follow to its conclusion.

  The Man was still, dark eyes staring right back at him.

  “So what was it…?” Sebastian murmured. “What the hell are you really playing at?”

  •

  LC lay back. He felt distant, detached, like they were talking about someone else, some other sucker who was screwed.

  “They don’t know how the virus is going to react.”

  He glanced towards the voice. Elliott was standing, arms folded, leaning back against the cell wall.

  The bastard gestured, half a smile dancing across his thin face. “Nice markings there, Luka. Almost tribal.”

  LC forced his breathing to steady. He couldn’t help looking at the dark tendrils of lightning that had crept past his elbow and wrapped around his forearm to his wrist, snaking out towards his fingertips. He couldn’t remember when that had happened.

  “I heard you used a shaman staff,” Elliott said. “Getting powerful. Pity you can’t control it. You didn’t kill anyone on the drop ship if you’re wondering, but you did trash the entire vessel.” He spread his arms. “Hence your current accommodation. Can’t blame them, really, can you?”

  It was hard to keep his expression neutral. Elliott was the last person he wanted in there with him.

  He tried not to react as the skinny tech guy wandered closer and tapped on one of the IV lines.

  Whoever it was outside was still talking but he couldn’t make out the words anymore, as if they’d moved just out of range.

  “They don’t know what to do with you. Did you really think you could keep popping all those battlefield drugs with no consequences?” Elliott shook his head, exaggerating his disapproval. “The problem now is that the bioweapon the Bhenykhn shot you with is still killing you. The virus has been using the drugs to fight it, just to fend it off. They take the drugs away now, the virus shuts down and the bioweapon kills you. You keep taking the drugs, they’ll kill you. What a dilemma. It’s fascinating.”

  LC lay there, clenching his fist and watching the black marks flex. Fascinating wasn’t exactly how he’d describe it. But he’d been written off plenty of times and always come round. He’d lost count of how many of his nine lives he’d used up. He’d stopped counting at eleven. He’d work through this. He always had.

  Elliott laughed. “We’ve underestimated the Bhenykhn. I hadn’t anticipated the possibility they might actually engineer a weapon to counter the virus once they knew it existed. But I must say, they might regret giving us that little nugget of biotechnology. We haven’t stabilised it into anything we can use yet but we will. In the meantime, what are we going to do with you? Everyone is quite keen on keeping you alive, Luka. You are quite precious to these people.”

  He didn’t feel precious. He felt like shit. His internal temperature was shooting sky high, skin cold and crawling as if he was covered in ants. He tried to relax, using every trick he knew, but it wasn’t just out of reach, it was like he’d never been able to really pull it off and he’d only ever scammed it and now it had caught up to him.

  He heard the outer door open, footsteps echoing, Evelyn and a doc walking in to the cell, neither of them looking happy.

  The doc said, blunt with no preamble, looking down at a board in his hand, “You’re grounded. Off the drugs. Confined to medical. And by that I mean confined to medical. We’ll take off those cuffs but you take off that wristband and we’ll know about it.”

  Christ, it felt like he was thirteen again. LC frowned and opened his mouth to protest but the doc cut him off. “Don’t tell me you’re fine. You are not fine. I’m surprised we’re even having this conversation. You should be dead. You should have died out there. Bale should have known better than to give you the substances she did.”

  “They didn’t have any choice,” Evelyn said quietly, controlled. “None of them would’ve made it out of there if she hadn’t. LC’s the only one we have who can do what we need.”

  At least Evelyn was sticking up for Sienna. Sienna hadn’t ever given him anything he hadn’t asked for.

  He glanced across, expecting Elliott to add an obnoxious comment but the tech guy had gone. Had he even really been there?

  The doc turned to Evelyn. “You want to keep him alive, you work with us. This is not going to be a bucket of fun for anyone, believe me.”

  She nodded, willing him to be good, to play along.

  The doc looked back at him. “You are maybe one day, one shot of anything, away from fatal. The kind of fatal that keeps you dead. No matter how superhuman you think you are. Do you understand?”

  LC lay back. He understood just fine. He just wasn’t sure about the dense, swi
rling unrest deep inside that was making his fingertips itch.

  It was dark when he woke, too hot, cold sweat sticking the sheet to his skin. He had no idea how long he’d been asleep. Evelyn had sent in a data board with a jug of tea of all things. He’d sipped at it, bent his head around the latest intel he’d dragged out of the hive, added in the crap he’d got from McKenzie then flaked out. He couldn’t remember finishing it. He felt as though he’d been turned inside out, skin prickling, throat dry. The band around his wrist was too tight. Uncomfortably tight. He blinked, trying to focus on it. It was way too tight, constricting, getting tighter the more he thought about it. He tried to breathe through the panic but the more he tried to ignore it, the tighter it got. It was cutting off the blood supply to his hand, fingers tingling and starting to twitch.

  He rolled onto his side and tried to pull it off. Screw what they’d said. He wasn’t going anywhere but he couldn’t bear it on his wrist a second longer. It should have snapped off, disengaging its biolink automatically, but it squeezed tighter.

  The numbers scrolling across its smooth surface flashed brighter, faster.

  He couldn’t get it off.

  Oh shit, he couldn’t get it off.

  He struggled to sit, tangled in the sheet, swinging his legs off the bunk, heart pounding, alarms sounding, pain flaring in his arm, his chest. He was trying to tear the band off his wrist, swearing, hands shaking, breathing erratic, and the damn thing wouldn’t shift. He couldn’t even get his fingernails beneath its edge to get a grip on it.

  He almost yelled as someone took hold of his arms, wrestling him to stop, ending up on the floor where he lashed out without intending to. He just wanted the damned band off his wrist and he wanted the incessant beeping that was getting higher and higher pitched to just stop.

  Something exploded with a bang, a flash of light, a shower of sparks that burned and flared, shouts and curses as whoever was there with him tried to shield him from the worst of it. He curled up, tearing at his wrist, shaking, swearing, as someone hissed in his ear, “Calm the fuck down. It’s gone. Jesus.”