Bellini grinned and took aim with both pistols.
“We need to work together.” Boyd stood up, rifle at his side.
As Boyd spoke, a second squad of Marines came running into the tunnel. They stopped and dived for cover seeing the Faction fighters and trooper ahead of them. Boyd spun to face them.
“Hold your fire. Sergeant Will Boyd, Blue Star Marines. Stand to, Marines. Stand to.” He held his Blue Star jacket by the emblem on his left shoulder and showed it to them. “Hold your fire.”
A sergeant stood up.
“Sergeant Boyd. We’ve got Skarak closing in on our position. We heard your call to converge on your location. The remains of the company are heading here now.”
Boyd turned back to Bellini.
“With this many pulse rifles at our command, we might just get out of this alive.”
10
The two groups of Union and Faction stood in the tunnel eyeing each other suspiciously.
Bellini grabbed a Marine by the shoulder and shoved him toward the tunnel entrance. “You go there, Union. The Faction has got your back.”
The Marine staggered to a halt and turned back to face Bellini. “I’m not turning my back on you, pirate.”
“You defend the tunnel, and I’ll let you stay. Or you can go out there and take your chances with the Skarak.”
The Marine squared off against Bellini.
With a single, heavy strike to the Marine’s jaw, Bellini knocked the Marine off his feet. In response, the Marines all brought their weapons up, which lead the Faction fighters and troopers to bring theirs up.
Boyd stepped between them, holding up his hands in a call for calm.
“What’s the point of killing each other? The Skarak will be happy to do that for us. Why not just take it easy.” He gently pressed the Marine’s rifle muzzle down. “Take a step back—” He stepped over to the troopers around Bellini and pressed down one of their rifles. “—and maybe we can all get out of this alive.”
A proximity alarm set at the tunnel entrance sounded, and Boyd checked his holo-stage. At a glance, he recognized the scuttling movements of Skarak soldiers alongside the lurching motions of the newly transformed human drones.
“Back, everyone,” Boyd called as loudly as he dared. He stopped a group of Marines. “You stay with me and cover their withdrawal.”
A Faction fighter, dressed in civilian clothing and armed with a rifle, stepped up next to Boyd. “I’m with you, Blue Star,” the big man said.
Boyd looked up into the bearded face of the man he’d been fighting at the café earlier that day.
“How are the fingers?” Boyd asked, trying to hide his suspicion.
The bearded man held up his hand. His hand was wrapped in a tight bandage and there was some swelling from where Boyd had dislocated those digits.
“I can still pull a trigger,” the big man said, his beard bristling under a broad smile.
“Good.” Boyd nodded and patted the big man on his shoulder. “Form a line here.” Boyd pointed out a line across the width of the tunnel. Then he grabbed a pair of marines. “You got grav field generators on those suits? Get up on the upper side of the tunnel. Give us cover from up there.”
The two Marines set their grav fields and drifted up to the roof of the tunnel only three meters above.
“Here they come.” Boyd took a knee and took careful aim.
As the first wave came into the tunnel, it filled with the noise of the dead growling and scrabbling over the rocky ground. Their shadows were thrown long by the flickering lights of scattered fire still taking place in the central chamber.
The shadows and the groaning grew longer and louder and then came the bodies themselves. The line of Marines and the single Faction fighter opened fire in sync and a hail of pulse rounds burst forward. They ripped into the wave of the mindless flesh drones as they were pressed forward by their Skarak masters coming behind.
Boyd pulled a micro drone off his belt and tossed it into the air. It raced away over the heads of the horde. As it came closer to the Skarak soldiers, six of them in a bunch, Boyd pulled a grenade.
“Marines,” Boyd called out. “Set for high yield! Make ready!”
The Marines each pulled a grenade from their equipment belts. Boyd sent the drone’s target coordinates to each with a few swift taps on the image hovering over his wrist, and then he tossed his grenade along the tunnel.
Before the grenade had traveled a meter, it took control of its flight and moved in on the Skarak that the drone was targeting. A small group of grenades disappeared into the shadows over the heads of the drone horde.
The blast from the detonation lit up the tunnel as it ripped through the mindless horde and the soldiers directing. They fell to the ground—motionless, lifeless. A group of puppets with their strings cut.
“Fall back.” Boyd was on his feet, walking backward and checking for any movement.
The defensive line fell back, including the two Marines above. Boyd set a new proximity drone to alert him the next time the Skarak attempted to enter, and he set a grenade primed to act like a mine and detonate as soon as a Skarak soldier came near. Then he turned and followed the rest of the small group deeper into the tunnel.
“Who has a map of this mine?” Boyd called out.
Families with children were mixed in with the Faction troopers and armed civilians. The Marines were huddled on one side of the tunnel. The two groups eyed each other nervously.
“Come on. Maps?” Boyd shouted. “You miners, you must have a map of these tunnels.”
The bearded big man stepped up next to Boyd. “You heard him. Maps. Now.”
One miner stepped closer to Boyd. “I am one of the shift supervisors. I have a map.” He activated a handheld holo-stage and a map of the tunnels flickered to life.
Boyd held his own holo-stage next to the miner’s and copied the image. He studied it. “How many entrances?”
“Three,” the supervisor replied, pointing them out.
All three entrances converged on the working face. Boyd realized to keep everyone safe, he would have to defend each entrance. He called over a Marine.
“Take your squad and set up a defensive barricade here.” He copied the map over.
“Hey!” the supervisor shouted angrily. “Don’t give those Union bastards my map.”
Boyd looked sideways at the supervisor. “If I don’t, we are all going to die—or worse.” He took a breath and walked between the people of the Faction. “We must stand together, or we will all fall.” He spoke with fury and passion. The supervisor stepped back, nodding.
“I’ll take a group to this tunnel,” the big guy with the beard said. “There are some cutting lasers we can set up there.”
Boyd nodded and slapped him on the shoulder. “Be quick, big guy. We don’t have much time.”
People started to move off along the tunnel. A small group of Union Marines and some Faction troopers lingered. Boyd checked them over—all armed, all looking stern and mean.
“Okay, we’ll hold here. Let’s throw up some barriers.”
Boyd walked toward the entrance, which led in from the central chamber. The flashes of pulse rifle fire had died down to the very occasional flicker. The resistance in the chamber had fallen away to almost nothing. Checking his holo-stage, Boyd could see the tunnel behind him was being barricaded.
The barricades were being thrown together using a mix of mining equipment and rubble cut out of the walls. A small wall was created and on the far side, there was a trench where the rock had been removed. A strong defense for such quick work.
A settlement of several thousand had been reduced to a few hundred survivors. Boyd checked the huddle of civilians deep in the mine, protected on three sides by Union and Faction. Only at this one location was there a mix of the two groups in an uneasy truce. The Marines covered one end of the barricade while the Faction civilians covered the other—a small but noticeable gap between them. The defensive line was
lit by a micro drone hovering overhead, emitting a faint red glow.
From a few paces behind the line, Boyd looked over the heads of the defenders toward where the next attack would surely come at any moment. He sensed someone standing next to him in the dark.
“Will, can we talk?”
Boyd turned suddenly, excited at the sound of Thresh’s voice, but then his heart sank. Up until just a few hours ago, he’d wanted nothing more than to spend every moment with her. Now he wanted to be anywhere but at her side.
He turned his attention back to the line. “Maybe you should defend another tunnel.”
Thresh stood in front of Boyd. He could see the sadness all over her face in the faint glow.
“I didn’t want to kill him,” she said. “I’ve have wanted to tell you for so long, but then we fell for each other, and how could I admit it?”
“How could you know who you’ve killed? You must have murdered a hundred Marines in your time with Kitzov.”
“I’ve lost count of how many have died,” she said, “all the ships that have been captured and destroyed, but I’ll never forget that lieutenant’s face as he looked up at me. So calm. So sad.”
“Don’t you talk to me about him. My brother was all that I had. We were all alone in the universe, we had no one else, and you took him from me. You killed him.”
“I had no choice. Kitzov made me do it. He put the gun in my hand. He aimed the gun. He whispered to me that the Union was evil, and that the Faction needed me, and we had to fight to survive. I have had nightmares about it every night. And then I met you and the dreams got worse as I knew I was falling in love with you.”
“Don’t talk to me,” Boyd said, but in his heart, he wanted Thresh. Now she was all he had left.
“I am sorry. I wish I could take it back, but I can’t. But if I wasn’t sorry, I would have turned you in the first moment we met.”
“You believed I was a Faction pilot just like everyone else,” Boyd said dismissively. He had been a brilliant undercover operative. No one had suspected him. “You didn’t know I was a spy until I told you.”
“But I did, Will.” She dropped her head for a moment and then looked up, her eyes glistening. “I knew because you look just like him. The moment I met you I recognized you. I knew he was your brother, and then when I met you, I knew how wrong it was that I’d killed him just to please Kitzov. And…” She hesitated. “I love you, Will.”
Boyd felt his heart sinking and pain rising. He knew he loved her too, but how could he respect the memory of his brother if he ever kissed Thresh again? He felt the deepest sadness since first hearing of his brother’s death.
Bellini stepped up, his laughter booming and filling the tunnel.
“Listen to the little Faction girl, crying over a dead Marine. What’s one more? Why don’t you two get in the line within those Faction troopers or get to the back with the children and old women.”
Boyd felt his heart pound. He clenched his fists and spun around, snarling at Bellini, tears of rage in his eyes.
Bellini laughed even harder, but then he saw murder in Boyd’s eyes. He raised his fists and dropped his smile. He swung a punch and it landed, sending Boyd reeling back.
Boyd fell, rolled, and got back to his feet in a seamless move. He stepped in and delivered a sharp left jab, his right fist held up for defense. He was immediately glad he did.
Bellini came thundering in with a swinging left. Boyd fended it off with a sweep of his right. Bellini’s follow-up punch landed heavily in Boyd’s gut.
Boyd felt the wind get knocked out of him, but he resisted the urge to fold and fight for his breath. He already knew he was fighting for his life.
Bellini came on, swinging with a wild left that narrowly missed as Boyd ducked away. Bellini followed with a swinging right. Boyd stepped back, ducking and weaving, staying just out of reach of Bellini’s heavy fists.
The eruption of cheers from the troopers barely registered as Boyd evaded another flurry of blows. The last missed by a fraction, the hairs on Bellini’s hand brushing over Boyd’s nose, and then Boyd stepped in, reversing the flow of the fight in an instant and delivered a stinging blow to Bellini’s jaw.
The punch was heavy, and Boyd felt Bellini stagger back. His fist throbbed and he was sure he had dislocated a finger in the process, but Belini was on the back foot and Boyd wasn’t going to let up now.
He saw the face of his brother as he landed another hard blow. Boyd’s rage overcame Bellini’s size advantage.
The electron blade in Bellini’s hand came fast.
Boyd leapt backward, twisting so the blade only slashed his jacket rather than his flesh. Boyd stepped back again as Bellini swung the bright white blade.
Bellini stabbed at Boyd’s head, the blade coming closer and closer to Boyd’s face. He felt the cold of the rock near his back and knew he was out of room to maneuver. The blade came forward again. Boyd stepped to the right and raised his left arm, fending off Bellini’s knife-hand, then he delivered a heavy blow to Bellini’s ribs. Bellini staggered away, swinging out wildly to cover his retreat.
Boyd saw his moment as Bellini’s right arm swept fully to his left. Boyd stepped in, grabbed Bellini’s arm, and he pulled Bellini off his feet. Stepping forward, Boyd towered over Bellini lying on the rock floor. He held the knife up in front of him, threatening.
Boyd kicked Bellini’s fist, knocking the knife out of his grip, then he fell on top of him, knees on his chest and a flurry of punches raining down onto Bellini. The pirate’s head snapped left and right. Finally, dripping with sweat and panting heavily, Boyd stood up.
He looked down at Bellini, motionless, and then looked at the line of Faction troopers. Boyd was suddenly very aware of his Blue Star Marine jacket and the line of troopers, all armed, watching as he stood over the beaten body of one of their most revered captains.
“Will, look out!” Thresh shouted.
Boyd didn’t look, he acted. He dropped his shoulder and rolled as Bellini raised his pistol and fired. Boyd came out of his roll next to the knife he had kicked from Bellini’s grip. He snatched it off the floor. He turned to see Bellini taking aim again, blood and sweat dripping from his ugly face.
Boyd half-leapt and half-crawled, moving out of the deadly aim. As Bellini fired a sudden burst of pulse rounds that fizzed past Boyd’s face, Boyd moved into range.
The blade slid easily through flesh and bone. Bellini let out a low moan before falling still and quiet.
Boyd stood and faced the line of troopers, their rifles aimed at him.
“Stand down,” Thresh said, stepping between Boyd and the weapons. “Bellini wanted to bring back the knucks. Well, that’s what he got. Sergeant Boyd won. Respect the knucks.”
The troopers looked down at Bellini and then up at Boyd. One trooper, his gut soaked red. He looked at Bellini and then his own stomach. “He got me.”
His comrades help him to sit down, applying pressure to the wound. Bellini’s pulse pistol round had missed Boyd but found a target.
Boyd saw the movement further along the tunnel in the dull red glow of the micro drone a moment before the proximity mine detonated. He picked up his rifle and stepped up to the barricade.
“Get in line, make ready.”
Thresh propped herself up against the barricade next to Boyd as the rest of the troopers and the remaining Marines took position. She looked sideways at Boyd.
“You have a cut over your eye,” she said, wiping his head with her thumb.
Boyd flinched, but stopped himself from moving away. He wanted Thresh’s touch. He wanted to be next to her. He watched the tunnel fill with the flickering shadows of the advancing horde.
“Good luck everyone,” he said, setting the pulse rifle into his shoulder. “Here they come.”
11
“Major Featherstone, sir,” Dorik said into his wrist-mounted holo-stage. “I’ve found him. He’s dead.” He kneeled over the body of Yanic Knole, twisted and broken, cruel
ly crammed into a small recess. “It’s murder, sir. No doubt about it.”
Featherstone called up the surveillance feed from the corridor Dorik was reporting from. The feed was broken, the image on the holo-stage fractured and filled with swirling nonsensical images from years of activity. He cancelled the corrupted feed.
“Show me,” he ordered.
Dorik scanned the area and relayed the scene to the command deck.
The image of Knole’s broken body filled the command deck’s holo-stage to a quiet gasp of horror and surprise.
With a gentle touch of his armrest display, Featherstone canceled the image. He had known Yanic Knole for years. He had been under Featherstone in his previous command. When he had been promoted to major, Featherstone had been given an opportunity to choose his ship and crew. Knole was one of the first names on the team sheet. He was an excellent officer and communications specialist. His habit of talking about sports had grown on Featherstone to the extent he had started taking more of an interest himself. A Curveball game was never going to be the same again.
“Doc,” Featherstone said quietly over his communicator. “Join Sergeant Dorik and make a full medical assessment. I want to know exactly how this happened. Send me a preliminary report as soon as you are able.”
Doc Cronin acknowledged the order quickly.
Featherstone had lost people before, but not like this. Someone on board was a murderer. He tapped his armrest console and called up a full list of the ship’s company. One of these people was the killer. As the names streamed by, one jumped out at him. Someone still on the Resolute’s register. Someone he had pushed to the back of his mind.
Sergeant Will Boyd.
Featherstone hesitated. Boyd had left the ship weeks ago. That was one person Featherstone could be sure wasn’t the killer, but Boyd’s crimes were just as bad. Was he a traitor? Had Boyd flipped to the Faction? Featherstone remembered his last words to Boyd: ‘Bring me Kitzov or you will hang.’
Featherstone let out a long breath and continued to search through the list of the ship’s company. It was impossible to guess who the killer was. Featherstone climbed down and left the command deck. He headed to the murder scene and found Dorik and Cronin standing over Knole’s body. It had been removed from the recess where it had been found and was now lying on a body bag.
Blue Star Marine Boxed Set Page 56
