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

by C. G. Hatton

  LC shook his head and looked around.

  It took a moment to realise Elliott was demanding his attention. “Incoming. Get out of there now, LC.”

  The chain at the top of her cage suddenly clanked and pulled tight, yanking it up with a lurch and sending her toppling. It slackened briefly then pulled tight and started pulling up.

  She started swearing, trying to keep her balance.

  He couldn’t let them take her. He dragged in a sliver of energy, yelled, “Get back,” and directed it to blast the hinges of the cage door. The cage was swinging as it was hauled up. She kicked it open and fell more than jumped out, landing next to him and bundling into him.

  He rolled, ignoring the pain that flared in his side and lay on his back, staring up.

  He blinked.

  Another cage was dropping, the chain falling faster, coming right at them.

  She grabbed his arm and pulled him aside, rolling onto the top of the next cage along as it plummeted back into place, the chain crashing into coils right where they’d been.

  She was shielding him, holding him tight, helping him sit up, the way Sienna used to, murmuring into his ear, “I don’t know and I don’t care how you just did that but we need to get out of here.”

  LC looked up. He could feel the Bhenykhn moving in.

  “I have friends in these fucking cages,” she muttered, not exactly asking him to set them free but what the hell else could he do?

  He reached right into the hive, into the heart of the Bhenykhn occupying force, felt the humming energy of the living structure surrounding them, and pulled in so much energy it made his head spin. He focused, and blasted open the door of every damn cage in there.

  She caught him as he started to crumple, muttering, “Holy shit,” pressing two fingers against the pulse point in his neck, shouting out as she did it. Shouts echoed back, clangs and bangs as prisoners broke free and started clambering over the cages.

  “We need to go,” she said, same time as Elliott was hissing into his head, “Go, Luka, get the hell out of there.”

  He could hear shots starting to sound out from above. There was no way up and no way down. He glanced around. “This way.” He grabbed her hand and ran.

  Every step jarred, every leap from one cage to the next sending agonising waves through his abdomen. He stumbled a couple of times, knees scraping, and was knocked aside by a hefty chain that was swinging wildly. Bodies were falling as the Bhenykhn shot down the prisoners, revelling in it, a fizzle in the air that was setting his nerves on fire. He could feel the hive searching for him in the maelstrom of human emotion he’d let loose. He closed down tight, numbness washing over him.

  The woman dragged him up, flung his arm over her shoulder and ran with him limping alongside her, another guy loping up next to them and taking his other arm, the two of them shouting to each other in that familiar way only soldiers have. It felt like an extraction, only he knew for a fact there were no guild units waiting in support, no guild ships on standby to get them out of there.

  He could see a wall looming, an edge to the vast chamber. He didn’t know what to do, no idea if there was a way out.

  There was nothing for a heartbeat then Elliott sent, “There’s a gap between the cages and the wall. Climb down then veer left. There are vents at the bottom, some kind of ducts.”

  He relayed it to the two soldiers virtually dragging him along. The woman yelled something and he almost fell as the guy on his left dropped, the pop of void as he died hitting hard. LC recoiled, and turned, sensing as much as seeing a massive hulking figure landing behind them, crossbow raised.

  The woman yanked at his arm, dragged him away and pushed him towards the wall, screaming at him to go and turning to face the Bhenykhn, shielding him from it, and swearing at it.

  LC scrambled to get his balance, no way was he leaving her there, pulling in energy and blasting it direct into the alien warrior’s brain, even as his foot slipped off the edge. He toppled and dropped.

  The gap was narrow, narrow enough that he bumped against the bars of the cages. He caught hold of a couple as he fell, almost yanking his shoulder out of place, and hung, sliding down a few inches and taking the skin off his palm. He was about to start climbing back up when Elliott said, cold-hearted bastard that he was, “She’s dead. Go.”

  “I didn’t feel it. She’s not dead,” he protested, reaching up and stopping as a pop of intense black hit the centre of his chest.

  “She’s dead,” Elliott sent. “Climb down, get into the ventilation shaft and keep going down. It’s the only chance you have to get away.”

  “I’m not leaving NG here,” he thought.

  “Then you’ll get both of you killed.” He sounded pissed. “You want to save NG? Get out of here now, because, Luka, if they find you now, they will kill you and that does none of us any good.”

  For all that he could be stubborn as hell, he wasn’t stupid.

  He ended up in a pulsing tube that was giving off that faint weird bioluminescence. He crawled through, worked his way round, and dropped out into a long, dark space. He almost gagged from the stench. He could sense energy pod creatures, thousands of them, a cluster like they’d encountered on the Bhenykhn command ship only a scale larger, a walkway extending through the centre of the chamber, suspended just above them.

  “Run,” Elliott sent suddenly. “Luka, run.”

  He didn’t hesitate, breaking into a sprint along the walkway.

  Halfway along, something heavy punched into his thigh, sending him down to one knee. Crossbow bolt. He pulled it out, another skinning his arm as he stood. He dragged a swirl of energy from the creatures themselves and blasted it backwards, behind him, high pitched screams piercing the chamber as a great swathe of the pods ignited and exploded, starting a chain reaction.

  The hive screamed in response, as it turned to him en masse. He ran, limping, muscles straining, energy as low as it could go, close to passing out and shivering even though it was swelteringly hot.

  There were shouts behind him, guttural roars, gun shots ricocheting close.

  “Don’t stop,” Elliott insisted.

  He was being bullied by a freaking AI. He’d never understood Hilyer’s relationship with Skye. Never questioned it but never understood how Hil could put so much trust into a machine.

  He staggered along the walkway, wide open, no cover anywhere.

  Something impacted low down on his back, sending him stumbling onto his hands and knees, crying out as his right hand hit the floor. He couldn’t move faster. He was bleeding, paralysing poison spreading. He was down to dragging himself along inside a damned alien stronghold, dripping blood, head pounding, stomach beyond nauseous. The heat and stench was disgustingly familiar. He couldn’t feel his leg anymore.

  “Keep moving.”

  And he was being bullied by a damned machine. Did he think that already?

  “Get to the door, Luka.”

  He was inches away and he was going to flake out. Pass out and fall off the walkway. They could scrape him up off the floor and do whatever the hell they wanted.

  “LC…”

  The connection cut, a silence echoing as if a plug had been pulled.

  “Elliott?”

  Nothing.

  It felt like he’d been cast adrift.

  Only once ever, in his whole time at the guild had he ever been this close to giving up. And that had been over a damned Bhenykhn kill token.

  He reached forward with the one arm that was still functioning. His fingertips touched a warm, pulsing surface. Metal but something more. He pulled in a head-spinning surge of energy and blasted the door open, senses bombarded by a roar of aggression from the alien hive. He staggered to his feet, turned as he sensed a shaman behind him and had no time to react as it slammed its staff into the surface of the walkway.

  The flash of energy that sparked from it hit him centre mass. He was knocked backwards, tumbled out through the door and fell down a set of steps in
to a narrow corridor.

  He sprawled on his back.

  Five guns powered up, aiming right at him.

  Humans. Freaking collaborating, bastard, traitorous humans. A mix of Wintran and Earth. That registered vaguely as he lay there. Surrounded. Done. Nothing left to fight with. He let his arms drop and closed his eyes.

  Chapter 33

  “The human race is truly despicable.” The Man said it with no emotion, nothing in his eyes but that intense darkness.

  “And that’s what you’re banking on?” Sebastian stared for a long moment then put down the knife and started to reassemble the rifle. “You’ve been breeding discontent, fuelling animosity, inciting rebellion. Every military theatre you sent Nikolai into, they weren’t cover for an operation, that was the operation.” He snapped together the pieces of the firing mechanism and internals with fast, deft movements. “You’ve been orchestrating an escalation in hate and greed, self-interest and paranoid self-protection with rumours of an elixir of immortality, not disseminating technology and knowledge but distributing just enough to the few to fuel greed for more.” He looked up, very aware an edge of admiration had crept into his voice.

  The Man bowed his head slightly. “I merely worked with what I discovered here. Look at what humans will do to themselves given the right opportunity…”

  •

  They dragged him up. A punch hit the back of his head and his knees went. They had to hold him up. He wasn’t going to make it easy for them. One leg was still numb and the wound in his back was pulling at what little he had left. He was healing slowly, the virus sucking in raw energy from the pulsing alien walls around them, from each bastard human marching him back towards their alien overlords.

  He was getting nothing from Elliott, nothing from NG. No chance of the guild getting anywhere near. Hell, they probably thought he was dead. Maybe if Drake was still around she might pull some strings to get him back. He didn’t know what would be worse. He choked out a laugh and got another blow to the back of his head.

  They had him in restraint holds, agonising spasms shooting up each arm. Excessive considering he could hardly stand.

  “What are they paying you?” he muttered. “How much are they paying you to do this?”

  One of them smashed a rifle butt across his face.

  LC folded, laughing, coughing blood.

  They hauled him up and stuck a gun barrel into the back of his neck, pushing him back into a walk.

  He should have kept quiet but he could feel the guy getting riled. There was a torn patch on the guy’s arm and he couldn’t resist. “So what outfit did you used to be with that you sold us out this easily? Was it Aries? I bet it was Aries.”

  That got him a shove in the back.

  Another one leaned close and murmured in his ear, “You might want to keep that mouth shut. The Bennies are going to kill you anyway… wouldn’t make much difference if you croaked it now, would it? You want to give us a reason?”

  It was tempting. There were five of them. He could blast them easy, quick pop of energy into each brain stem.

  As if they could hear what he was thinking, they twisted his arms viciously and yanked plasticuffs tight around his wrists, keeping the gun to his neck to keep his head down and pushing another against the raw spot in his back. He had no idea what was stopping him from blasting them all. Except the fact they were still humans. There were still some lines he struggled to cross.

  But then, they were working for the damned Bhenykhn.

  He chose one, the one that had hit him in the face, and began to focus, drawing in energy, steadily, relentless, feeling the virus use it to heal, feeling the mercenary falter, fatigue hitting hard, worse, a kind of withering.

  The guy swayed, lurched, not stupid, and turned on him, hitting him again and not stopping this time, punching him until he went down and slamming a fist into his face, leaning down and shouting, “What the fuck? The fucker is doing something.”

  A pistol barrel appeared between his eyes, pressing down, the guy leaning his full weight into it, and yelling, “What the fuck are you doing? You want to die right now, you freak?”

  His finger was on the trigger.

  LC lay there, a laugh caught in his throat. So this was what it came down to? So much for immortality. He narrowed his eyes, a fraction of a second from blasting the guy.

  Except he heard a muttered curse, a gunshot loud in his ear, a pop of void, and the guy fell away, crashing to the floor, three more shots and three more bodies hitting the deck.

  He blinked, tried to focus and stared at the figure standing over him, gun in hand, looking down as if he was going to fire again.

  Hilyer shook his head, swearing. He holstered the gun and knelt. “Well, that all went to shit rather spectacularly.”

  LC sucked in a deep breath, trying to figure out if he could move. He managed to twist to the side to let Hil cut off the restraints, and flopped onto his back, right hand lying across his chest, left across his eyes.

  “You okay?”

  “No.” He let Hil help him sit. “Where’s Elliott?”

  “Busy.”

  “What about Yarrimer?”

  Hil was pulling out field dressings, stemming the worst of the bleeding. “Yarri’s not in a good place right now.”

  For some weird reason, that made his stomach turn. “She was talking to me.” It? She? When did that happen?

  He closed his eyes as Hil took his hand and started to rewrap it hastily in a rough field dressing, the bandage soaking through.

  “I know. Don’t worry about Yarri. We’ll get her out.”

  He was vaguely aware that Hil finished up and moved away, blinked open one eye to watch him pulling kit off the dead mercenaries.

  He wasn’t sure he could manage to stand but he did, swaying. “NG is here.”

  “I know.” Hil threw a pair of combat pants, a jacket and boots at him. “Here, put these on and be fast. We need to go.”

  They walked for what felt like forever, a couple of close calls when hunting parties got close. Hil pushed him back into the shadows each time. LC was walking on auto. They were in a system of dark tunnels that weren’t Bhenykhn before he realised it, no idea when they’d crossed from that alien mass to the old subway tunnels.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Out into the city. We need to find a way out of Beijing if Elliott’s going to have any chance of picking us up.”

  He felt a hit of panic. “Hil, wait, we can’t go without NG.”

  Hilyer grabbed his jacket and pulled him close, backing into a side tunnel as harsh voices echoed up ahead. He put a finger to his lips and pushed him close to the wall.

  LC closed down, trusting Hil beyond any doubt, and closed his eyes.

  It only took a few minutes then Hil gave him a nudge and they moved on.

  “Wait.”

  “LC, look at yourself. I can’t get anywhere near NG. You can barely walk. What are we supposed to do? At least we know where he is. We’re not leaving him behind, but we go back in there right now, we might as well deliver ourselves up on a plate.”

  Hil was right but it was still hard to walk away. LC felt like he had cottonwool wrapped around his head, and he ended up zoning out, not protesting as Hil pulled the hood up so it dropped low over his face.

  “We’re going out into the city, you understand?”

  He didn’t.

  “Walk as normally as you can, don’t say anything and don’t do anything. Do that thing that you do that keeps you hidden from them. If anything kicks off, let me deal with it. We can’t do anything that attracts attention. You understand?”

  He tried to say something but it didn’t come out so he just nodded.

  They reached a door and pushed through into open air.

  It was night, dark skies lit by low altitude ships and scurrying shuttles, the beams of searchlights scanning over the streets as gunships flew overhead. LC sucked in a breath of humid, decay-heavy air, senses assaulted
by the stench of the Bhenykhn.

  Hil gestured him to wait, peering out and then pulling him forward. “This way. If we get stopped, you’re my prisoner.”

  They slipped through into a maze of twisting alleyways, past vendors touting food that stank from grimy baskets on the floor, past ragamuffin kids that sat in doorways just staring. It was a rat run of human settlement in the shadow of the huge alien structures that loomed all around, overwhelming the city.

  Hil stopped a couple of times, once to speak quietly to someone in a doorway, and once at a stall with huge urns that were billowing steam out into the night. He handed over something small and got a paper cup in return, laughed at something the woman said in a language LC couldn’t follow, and shook his head, telling her to keep safe and pushing the cup into LC’s hand as they left.

  He took a sip of thick, sweet liquid that was so hot it burned his mouth and hurt his chest. He coughed.

  Hil slapped him on the back and muttered, “Drink it.”

  They kept to the smaller streets but he could see from the corner of his eye huge Bhenykhn warriors, in squads, standing at the intersections of the main streets, one grey cloak and three brown in each, all hefting rifles in their arms.

  He kept his mind numb, firmly neutral, head down, sipping at the liquor as he walked, feeling the virus take it and break it down slowly, healing slow and unsteady.

  “They’re looking for you,” Hil murmured at one corner, holding him back again.

  An armoured vehicle trundled past, several squads of human collaborators in a mix of uniforms or ad-hoc combat equipment patrolling with it, rifles cradled in their arms, fingers on triggers, shouting and jostling anyone who got too close. It felt like Kheris and for a second he flashed back to the night the bakery had been raided, soldiers pulling out the resistance leaders and shoving them against the wall, putting guns to their heads.

  Hilyer nudged him with a quiet, “Death squads. They’re doing the Bhenykhn’s dirty work for them. We need to back up.”

  They got two streets away before a klaxon started wailing. Hil grabbed his arm and ran. A roar of engines from above began to descend as drop ships appeared. LC limped as fast as he could, senses bombarded by a panic from all around, eyes watering, eardrums pounding.