Open Skies

by Yolande Kleinn

  "She's not alone," he announced to Dantes and Ilsa both when they arrived at the eerily quiet Depsis dock—a nearly defunct facility beside a failing mining operation. "And whoever she's traveling with, I think there are more of them now. I don't like it, especially not here."

  "You think they intend to try something?" Dantes's eyes darted about the silent corridor, though of course, there was nothing to see. No one in sight. There was an unnatural stillness to the empty hall, and Ilsa didn't like it one bit.

  "You don't call that many hands on deck unless you're looking for a fight," Kai answered dully. Ilsa was already fishing in her rucksack for the discreet firearm she carried. The weapon was a small, subtle affair that packed a heavy wallop. It wouldn't punch through bulkheads even on its highest setting; the design was meant to be wielded both within an atmosphere and in more transient locales. The charge could be set low enough that it might not kill, but the discharge—energy packed into bullet-sized blasts that could tear through flesh at higher settings—could still cause heart failure in most Alliance races.

  "Where did you see them?" she asked as she checked the power reserves on her gun. The weapon was fully charged. She'd been doubly careful since Kai first caught sight of their suspicious shadows.

  "They disembarked a ways behind us, but I lost sight of them before the arrivals gate."

  Ilsa cursed under her breath. The arrivals gate had been a veritable dead zone, a dozen passengers threading narrow halls away from the main docks. If the Gaiminn and her friends had disappeared so abruptly, they must have an alternate way past the security crews. They could be anywhere by now. Chances were damn high that they were close.

  She glanced to her left and saw that Dantes had drawn a gun from somewhere as well. Dantes's weapon was larger, nothing discreet about it, bulky and gray. The metal was so clean Ilsa would swear it had never been fired. She recognized the make only vaguely, and had never seen the model before. If she had to, based solely on its size and the fact that Dantes was the one carrying it, she'd guess the gun was both flashy and overkill. She doubted the thing even had a low-power setting.

  "We can't avoid them if we don't know where they are," Ilsa pointed out, glancing between her companions and doing her best to keep a cool head. She tried to think her way past the trap she could suddenly smell closing in around them, but it was difficult to strategize with so little information to work with.

  "Maybe we can—" Kai began, but cut himself off when the corridor went abruptly dark.

  Ilsa clenched her teeth to keep down the startled curse that threatened to crawl up her throat. To her left, Dantes went perfectly still. To her right, Kai was already turning, eyes darting forward along the darkened hall.

  The blackness wasn't pitch, Ilsa realized as her eyes adjusted. There were occasional panels of faint light, the glow of power conduits glinting behind the walls at nearly regular intervals. There were also windows—tiny, narrow things tucked near the ceiling—offering scant illumination from outside. It was night on this side of the planet, but two moons shared the sky, and the ambient light was better than having none at all. Ilsa shrugged her rucksack off her shoulder, maneuvering in complete silence as she set it on the floor. It tucked almost invisible into a shallow inset in a corner of one wall, and Ilsa cocked her head, wordlessly urging Kai to do the same with his bag. She crept forward while he obeyed. Her eyes reluctantly adjusted to the gloom, and she peered down the hall, towards where the corridor narrowed and turned.

  By the time Ilsa risked shifting her attention behind her, Dantes's travel case was also out of sight, as well as Kai's worn jacket.

  Kai was rolling up his shirtsleeves and watching Ilsa with sharp focus.

  "What do we do?" Dantes asked, his voice pitched so low Ilsa strained to hear him.

  "You stay here," Kai ordered, soft steel in his voice as he turned to look Dantes directly in the eye. "Ilsa and I will move up the corridor and see what's ahead."

  Ilsa wanted to order Kai to stay back and keep his head down too, but she could already see Dantes rankling, ruffling himself up to protest. The last thing Kai needed was Ilsa arguing tactics in front of their contentious employer; they needed to present a united front if they were going to keep Dantes from throwing himself into the line of fire. He was a client, an uninvited tagalong and a liability, and he had no place at their backs if they were walking into something messy.

  So instead of countering Kai's assertion, Ilsa leveled a steady stare at Dantes in turn. "Seriously. Stay put. We need to check this out, and we don't have time to teach you our shorthand. We'll hurry back."

  Reluctantly—angrily—Dantes subsided. Kai nodded to him, then turned to follow Ilsa straight ahead. Whether he let her take the lead as thanks for backing his play, or simply because he himself was maneuvering empty-handed, Ilsa didn't care.

  She moved as silently as she could, reaching the corner at the narrow end of the hall and crouching low to peer around it.

  There was only another empty hallway ahead, but she still straightened and inched forward with all possible caution.

  "You lied to him," Kai murmured in her ear, keeping close but also moving with measured vigilance.

  "About what?"

  "We haven't rehearsed any shorthand." There was laughter in Kai's voice, despite the fact that his words were barely audible—despite the danger and severity of the situation—and Ilsa found herself reluctantly smiling.

  "Near enough. Anyway, our standard contract has a clause that covers lying to clients for their own good." She wanted to say more, maybe tell him to be careful, goddamn it, but they were halfway through the smaller corridor now, and there was an open hatch directly ahead. It was a large door, wide and tall, and from the handful of crate-shaped silhouettes cluttered near it, Ilsa guessed it was the sigma-side loading bay they had to cross to reach the main complex. She fell quiet, keeping her footfalls soft as she passed the first of the skinny crates.

  Ilsa stopped when she reached the door. She plastered herself to the frame and waited as Kai mirrored her position on the opposite side. Again she crouched, her heart hammering so noisily in her chest that it was a shock the entire port couldn't hear her. She felt lightheaded, but her hands were steady as she peered with one eye into the space beyond the door.

  Inside her head was a wild mantra of curses, a violent mix of anger and fear. She and Kai weren't prepared for this. They weren't trained for this. They'd come out all right from situations that smelled just as awful, but luck and perfect aim couldn't carry them forever.

  Luck and perfect aim were all they had going for them, though. Ilsa could see no one in the dim expanse of the room beyond the open doorframe. It was a fraction brighter than the corridor at least, a space with irregular windows spanning most of one wall and a skylight at the farthest end. There was still no artificial light—whoever had deactivated the system had clearly done it for this entire section of the docking grid—but the two moons were visible and their light slanted brightly across the floor.

  As she'd suspected, the room itself was a long loading bay. The wall opposite the windows looked to be one enormous apparatus that must open to accommodate cargo ramps from heavily stocked ships. Huge cargo containers stood throughout the vast space, looking much the same in the gray darkness. Rectangular blobs of shadow. At least they could provide solid cover, Ilsa thought, for whatever that might prove worth.

  The ceiling stretched at least two stories high, and catwalks ran above the two walls Ilsa could see from her limited vantage. She had to assume those paths extended directly above the doorframe that was momentarily shielding her and Kai. If there were armed enemies waiting up there, they would be directly above and out of sight. Ilsa saw nobody at all from her current position.

  She subsided, drawing back from the frame and watching Kai do the same opposite her. He met her eyes through the murky gloom. As he rose from his crouch, he had the distinct look of a trap ready to spring.

  Ilsa rose too, checki
ng her gun. She considered only briefly before tapping in the sequence that would set every shot she fired to lethal force. She had no qualms about killing those who meant her harm, and no doubt at all that whoever was waiting to ambush them meant to kill without remorse.

  She met Kai's eyes with determined warmth and gestured with her free hand, indicating the mechanical wall opposite the windows. It wasn't a rehearsed signal. It meant nothing more complicated than that way, go fast, just in case he hadn't seen the catwalk and its looming promise of hidden attackers.

  Kai nodded his understanding, and they waited. Breathed in unison, out and then in. Perfect silence. Perfect stillness. Perfect understanding passed between them, and in a single instant they came to life and charged forward.

  They moved together through the door and darted for cover near the shadowed wall.

  Gunfire erupted around them, staccato bursts of heat and light blasting noisily through the air. Surprise was a fleeting advantage, but it kept Ilsa and Kai one step ahead of the barrage as they barreled across open ground. It felt like an eternity before they finally reached cover behind the smooth metal of an enormous cargo crate. Ilsa hit the ground harder than she intended, and her knees protested the impact. She was already moving again, craning around the far side of the crate.

  She spotted two figures scrambling across the catwalk, exactly where she had expected. They were rushing now towards the nearest flimsy ladder. For the moment they were entirely exposed, and Ilsa took careful aim before the flicker of opportunity passed. She couldn't afford to miss.

  Ilsa breathed through the roar of adrenaline in her ears, steadied her weapon with both hands, and fired.

  One of the two figures—the one in the lead—went down, his choked shout carrying loudly through the vast bay. He didn't slip from the catwalk but instead crumpled directly forward onto the narrow metal path.

  The second figure stumbled over the fallen shadow. Ilsa's next shot landed just as surely as the first, and the second shadow fell.

  There was shouting then, close by, in at least two languages—Gaime and something Ilsa didn't recognize—and then sparks ignited against the crate just above her head. Those shots sliced through the corner of the crate where there wasn't enough mass to deflect the energy, and Ilsa cursed aloud just as gravity seemed to yank her back out of harm's way.

  Except it wasn't gravity saving her. It was Kai, his hands clutching her arms with bruising force, his bulk landing beneath her as she fell. They both scrambled upright and pressed flat against smooth metal as gunfire thudded, noisy and ugly, against the far side of the crate. Head-on, the container was large enough to absorb the impacts and burning charges, but it wouldn't hold forever. And it wouldn't protect them when the enemy finally circled around and flanked them.

  "There are only three more of them out there." Kai's words were a cautious hiss in Ilsa's ear.

  "You're sure?" she whispered back.

  Kai nodded.

  "Can you get to them?" She glanced downward and fussed by feel with the settings of her weapon. Wider bursts would require more energy—she would drain her weapon faster, would have only a few minutes of power left—but a wider range would also distract and blind, at least momentarily. Kai would never get close enough if she didn't draw and keep the enemy's attention.

  "I think so," Kai said. Then he said her name in a tone she'd never heard before. He sounded almost hesitant, and confusion caught at Ilsa's insides as she raised her eyes.

  She could barely see him now beyond his silhouette and the reflective glint of his eyes. She could make out no hint of his expression, and the tension in his shoulders told her nothing, considering they were actively under attack.

  "Kai?"

  He moved forward all at once, a surge of shadows closing the slim distance that separated them. He paid no heed at all to the weapon in Ilsa's hand as he cupped the back of her head in one huge palm and pressed a hard kiss to her mouth. The kiss was hurried and desperate, and over in an uncomfortable instant. Ilsa didn't even try to process what had just happened. Kai was already creeping towards the far corner of the crate, and she needed to be ready to make the first move.

  "Let me get into position," she whispered over her shoulder, watched for the quick nod of assent that told her he'd heard the instruction. Then she threw herself into the open, running with all the speed her legs could summon.

  She covered twenty paces in a protracted instant, viscerally aware of the singeing cannonade of weapon fire too close on her heels. She ducked and rolled low as she reached the next piece of cover. Not one large crate this time, but a sturdy stack of smaller containers. These were dull, dark metal, piled deeply enough that even the most powerful impacts lost momentum before they could burst through to Ilsa's protected position.

  Ilsa gave herself no time to cower, or to think, or even to breathe. She ducked for the far side of her new hiding place and fired, angling for the corner from which most of the incoming attacks had come. She wasn't bothering to aim any longer, though she tried to give the illusion of it as she discharged her weapon.

  She fired. Paused. Let the worst of the returning gunfire fade. Twisted and fired again. She had to keep them focused on her until—

  Yes, there was noticeably less speed to the answering bombardment a moment later. Ilsa tilted her own aim further off target—the last thing she wanted to do was catch Kai in an unlucky shot—and slowed her finger on the trigger of her gun.

  When she stopped shooting and was met with only silence, she tentatively peered around the edge of her hiding place. The stack of crates wobbled beneath her hand—not so sturdy after the prolonged assault—but Ilsa could see nothing in the darkened bay. Nothing in the shadows, nothing on the catwalks.

  Nothing until Kai warily appeared in a patch of moonlight. He stood upright, glancing stiffly around himself as he crossed the open space. For all his caution, Ilsa realized he had already backtracked and double checked his work. Kai must have been sure he'd gotten everyone, or he wouldn't be moving out in the open. Ilsa glimpsed no bodies in the heavy darkness. The only dead she could see were her first two victims, the barely visible forms on the catwalk above the door.

  Kai was holding his shoulder too tightly, and as Ilsa emerged into moonlight she saw why.

  "Goddamn it, Kai."

  He was bleeding. His dark shirt might not show it, but his pale skin certainly did where the fabric was torn beneath his hand. When she got close enough to set her gun down and draw his hand away from the wound, his palm was soaked. The red of his blood looked black in the moonlight.

  "It's not that bad," Kai protested, but Ilsa only glared at him.

  "It's bad enough." She tried to be gentle as she prodded at his shoulder around the wound, but Kai still flinched and bit his lower lip. Ilsa's medical training was little more than basic wartime first aid, but it was enough to tell her this was a deeper wound than Kai was admitting. It wasn't singed around the edges or cauterized the way gunfire from those weapons should have been, which meant one of Kai's hand-to-hand opponents must have drawn a knife on him. Ilsa scowled. Her rucksack had bandages tucked in one of the side pockets, but Kai would need an actual physician. She certainly wasn't skilled enough to stitch him up herself.

  "Come on. Bandages." She finally stepped back, picked up her gun, and moved for the door that had brought them. Kai immediately covered the gash with his hand as he followed her, pressing hard despite the amount of discomfort his efforts obviously caused him. Struggling to staunch the bleeding.

  They needed to collect Dantes, but he was barely a footnote to Ilsa's awareness at the moment. Dantes would still be in the previous corridor, in the general proximity of Ilsa's limited first aid supplies. That was good enough for the time being.

  "This is why you need a fucking gun," Ilsa muttered, moving quickly but still with wary caution through the dark hall.

  "Can we not have this argument right now?" Kai was audibly winded, but otherwise his low voice gave no hint tha
t he was hurt. If anything, he sounded exasperated, and well he might. They had certainly disagreed on this point often enough in seven years of partnership, and Ilsa had yet to win the debate.

  "Now seems like the perfect time to me," she retorted quietly, more to settle her own nerves than because she really thought this was the time or the place to harp on Kai's stubbornness. Over half the length of their partnership had been dedicated to surviving a war. If she couldn't convince him to carry a proper weapon then, she had no hope of managing the trick now.

  "I don't like guns. I've got terrible aim."

  "Aim improves with practice." Ilsa stopped and glanced about herself. They had already rounded the narrow corner into the wider stretch of corridor, and she'd been sure this was where they'd parted from Dantes. Was it possible they'd found some wrong turn to follow? It seemed unlikely in such a short distance, and she didn't remember any unexpected doorways or passages.

  When she glanced downward, she found her rucksack wedged right where she'd left it. This was the place.

  Adrenaline rushed beneath her skin in a renewed surge, but she crouched beside the bag and unfastened the side flap. She had to dig beneath a supply of ration bars and a hand light to reach the small first-aid pack, and she nearly fumbled the entire lot as she tore open a clean bandage.

  They didn't have time to properly clean or disinfect the wound. If Dantes wasn't here, then there could still be hostiles to contend with. Ilsa rose to find Kai had already let go of his shoulder and torn his demolished sleeve open wider to give her space to work. The bandage affixed easily, sealing to the intact skin around the wound despite the slick and drying mess of blood already spilled. It would have to do for the moment.

  Crouching again, Ilsa picked up the hand light that she'd dropped in her haste to reach the bandages. She hesitated a moment, not yet activating the light, and glanced down the long corridor to take stock in the dimness. The hall branched in several directions at the far end, including down. Ilsa saw no movement, no sign of life at all, and when she glanced to Kai for confirmation, he shook his head. He could see no threat either.