by Lolita Lopez
Sweating and uncomfortable, he wondered how the hell the people who lived on this mountain could work like this day after day. Brook’s decision to risk her life to set those explosives made much more sense to him. Her entire life had been spent underground, toiling in the darkness and breathing in the irritating dust. Of course, she wanted to escape. Of course, she wanted a new life above ground with clean air and warm sunlight.
“That the last of it?” Pierce asked as he mopped at his neck.
“Last box,” Cipher confirmed. “What’s the plan when we’re done?”
“Big boom.” Pierce mimicked an explosion with his hand. “We’ll seal this up tight.” He glanced around the mostly empty room. “We probably should have kept the asset around for the final bang. She’s damn good at what she does.”
“She’s probably on her way to the colonies by now.” He grunted and picked up the last heavy box of intel. “Her rendezvous window has already come and gone.”
“She might have decided to come to the Valiant.”
“I sure as fuck hope not,” he grumbled and hefted the box out of the room.
“So, it is true,” Pierce said while following him out of the mine. “You are hot for the asset.”
“Can we not do this right now?” He glared over his shoulder. “It doesn’t matter if I’m hot or cold. She’s gone. She’s safe. It’s done.”
“You know there’s nothing wrong with feeling attraction to the girl, right?” Pierce caught up and fell into step beside him. “She’s an adult.”
“Barely,” he remarked with a grunt.
“Oh, spare me,” Pierce replied testily. “That woman has proven herself. She’s not a child. She’s not a child. She’s brave and smart. She adapts to high-stress situations. She’s resourceful. This isn’t some sheltered girl from Prime. This is a woman who has stood on her own two feet and survived. She doesn’t deserve to be discounted just because she doesn’t have enough months on a calendar.”
Cipher suspected Pierce’s rant was about more than his reluctance to chase after Brook. He had heard rumors about Ella and Dizzy’s friend who lived in the tunnels under The City. She had gone missing after a raid and hadn’t been seen or heard from since. She had saved Pierce at least once, and he seemed to have decided he owed her a debt.
Or, maybe, he wanted to pay her back with a collar and his care.
He started to ask if that’s what this was about, but Pierce stepped away to answer a message coming through his earpiece. Cipher continued on his way, stowing the final box on the cargo transport loader and signing off on the chain of custody with the load master and the forensics tech. When it was done, he stepped toward the medic station for a cold bottle of water and ice packs for his neck.
“You need a ride back with us?” the medic asked and indicated their craft idling nearby. “Saw the rest of the SRU team head back with Torment.”
“I might,” Cipher said, wondering if Pierce needed him on scene much longer. He had done what he came to do and was looking forward to a shower, a meal and collapsing into his bunk.
Pierce strode toward him, his usual arrogant swagger gone, and his face a mask of worry. Cipher’s gut clenched, and he asked, “What happened?”
“Look,” Pierce sighed, “there’s no easy way to say it. The girl? The asset?”
“Yeah?”
“She never made it to the rendezvous point.”
His heart skipped a beat. Refusing to panic, he tried to think logically. “Did they check the cabin?”
Pierce nodded. “The fixer scoped it out. It’s locked up, and there’s no sign of our girl anywhere.”
He turned his gaze toward the mountain. All manner of possibilities flashed before him, some better than others. She might have gotten hurt while traipsing back up the mountain to the rendezvous point. She might have been attacked by wildlife. She might have been caught by a Splinter lookout after she placed the explosives. She might have been abducted by moonshiners or the skin traders she mentioned.
His gaze flitted back to the mine, and he grimaced. She might have been caught in the ventilation shaft before the explosions. The thought of her mangled and crushed threatened to drop him, but it was the possibility that she may have been taken that worried him most.
“If she was in the mine, we would have found her when the techs did their radar sweep,” Pierce reasoned, as if reading his mind. “If she was taken by the Splinters, she would have been brought out when they fled the explosions.”
“Your guys had drones onsite?”
“We did.”
Cipher rushed to the command ship and ran up the ramp through the cargo deck to the logistics unit. He shoved a tech out of the way and sat down in front of his console. Tapping at the touchscreen, he activated his access to the highest level of security clearance with a swipe of his wrist over the chip reader.
Once he was inside the logs, he pulled up the recorded feed from before the explosion. There wasn’t a clear shot of the ventilation shaft access point she had used, but there was enough of it in the wide shot that he was able to zoom. The images were fuzzy, and he silently cursed the shithead tech who had configured the camera on the drone.
“Is that a fucking bear?” Pierce asked, leaning over his shoulder for a closer look at the grainy image.
“Yes.” He swallowed down the very real fear that he was about to watch that gigantic creature maul Brook to death.
“Fuck me,” Pierce murmured in awe, his gaze glued on the screen and the sight of the massive bear jumping and clawing at the grate covering the ventilation shaft. “If that thing gets through the grate—"
“I know,” he ground out, not wanting to even go there.
“Wait. Look!” Pierce pointed out the bear lifting up on its hind legs to sniff the air. “It’s found something that smells better.”
Cipher exhaled a ragged breath as the bear lumbered into the woods and disappeared. Despite the blurriness of the image, he could tell it was Brook who crawled out of the shaft, replaced the grate and then staggered off into the woods behind the bear. He had no idea where she was headed, but it was likely a higher vantage point, somewhere she could see the operation at the mine and use backup detonation triggers if necessary.
“You’ll lose her after this,” Pierce said, following her movement into the forest with his fingertip. “But, if we know she went into the woods, she went missing somewhere between here and the rendezvous point. Where was that?”
Cipher swiped the screen and pulled up a map of the terrain. He inputted the rendezvous point coordinates that were in her asset file and plotted them onto the mountain map. “Here.”
“Shit,” Pierce cursed. “That’s a long way on foot. She didn’t seem wounded,” he added. “She must have been in fairly good condition when she set out to meet her pickup.”
“Maybe,” Cipher agreed uncertainly. His brain raced as he tried to come up with a way to find her. He could send drones out to search for heat signatures, but there were a lot of animals on the mountain. It would take time to sort out human and animal signatures. He could use drones to search for her clothing colors, but she was wearing drab neutral tones that melded into the forest like the most perfect camouflage.
What else could he try? Think. Think.
“The camera and the comm device,” he shouted. “They have trackers in them. If she has them with her, I’ll be able to find her.”
“It’s worth a try.”
While he searched for the identification numbers of the equipment she had been issued, Cipher let his mind wander to the most likely possibility. She was probably hurt and bleeding somewhere on the mountain. The second mostly likely possibility was that she had been captured by someone else. If they found the gear on her, they would know she was worth something. They might take her to the Splinters, but there would be a bigger payday if she was brought to one of their outposts or ships.
He waited for the trackers on the devices to populate the map and refused to thin
k about what would happen if she had been grabbed by skin traders. She was young, healthy and beautiful. The amount of money some sick fuck would pay to use her body was astronomical. I have to find her.
“There,” Pierce said and tapped the screen. “Shit, she’s high up that mountain.”
“Which means I better start running,” Cipher declared as he rose from the uncomfortable chair. “I need a rifle and some gear.”
“You don’t have clearance.” Pierce wasn’t rejecting his request. He was pointing out the facts. “You’ll get dragged in front of the review board if you chase after her alone.”
“Probably,” he agreed, “but I’m not leaving her there.”
Pierce studied him intently and then nodded. “I’ll get you some gear and try to retroactively get permission for your side mission.”
“But?”
“You’ll have to bring her back to the ship and collar her,” Pierce stated. “They’ll forgive you for going after a bride.”
Cipher nodded, fully aware that was the one option to keep his ass out of the clink. He logged out of the system and followed Pierce to the armory of the command ship. Once Pierce unlocked the door, he grabbed the requested gear and handed it over. “Rifle. Side arm. Survival pack.”
Cipher made quick work of strapping on his gear. As he set up his watch to track the equipment Brook had, he asked, “If I need a quick exfil?”
“I’ll make sure you have one,” Pierce promised. “You can use one of our secure channels. How about five?”
“Five it is.” Cipher adjusted the setting on his headgear and pressed his earbud into place. “I’ll keep you updated.”
“Don’t get killed,” Pierce ordered, trailing him out of the armory. “If you do, Raze will kill me. Torment will have to kill Raze. Venom will kill Torment. Terror will kill Venom. It will be a shit show of death. Stay alive and bring back your girl.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Quick on his feet, Cipher ran into the woods. He wasn’t the fastest man on the SRU, but he wasn’t the slowest either. He had always been better at long distances and endurance races. Running up a damn mountain fit both of those criteria. Even so, he reminded himself that he was no good to Brook if he arrived worn out and unable to defend or carry her.
Slowing his pace, he worked his way through the trees and brush. The thinner air was hard on his lungs, but he remembered his training and kept his breaths deliberate and measured. Up and up, he climbed, checking his watch and staying on the straightest path to where the equipment was. He could only hope the camera and comm device were still with her.
She’s five hours ahead of me. At least. What the fuck has she been through in that time?
The terrible answers to that question conjured spurred him forward. He kept a steady pace as he cut his way up the mountain. He scanned his surroundings as he moved, trying to maintain situational awareness. The last thing he needed was to stumble onto a predator like that bear that had tried to snatch Brook out of the ventilation shaft.
A smell that didn’t belong in the forest caught his attention. He stopped moving and closed his eyes, breathing in deep. It was a smell any human would recognize: vomit. Not the least bit squeamish, he followed the scent to a tree a few yards away and crouched down to examine the drying splatter. He recognized the rations in the slurry. He had thrown them up enough times during the more excruciating physical training at the academy to identify them.
Why was she sick? Was it overexertion? Or an illness?
He stood and glanced around the area. His gaze fell on the trampled grass. He took a few steps and crouched down to study the bent and crushed blades. The tips of his gloved fingertips moved over the depression in the shape of a boot. A man’s boot. A heavyset man, by the looks of the track.
He walked the perimeter of the crushed grass and found three more tracks belonging to men and one set of very small boots that belonged to Brook. He noticed the way her tracks ended right near a convergence of the men’s boots.
They picked her up and carried her out of here.
Shit.
He followed the tracks of the men out of the clearing and into a nearby camp. He recoiled at the horrible stench of blood and offal. Disgusting sounds—crunching and licking and wet growls—met his ears. Raising his rifle, he stepped forward carefully. His footfalls were as quiet as he could make them, and he managed to sneak up on a pack of ravenous wolves tearing apart the carcass of a bear.
He couldn’t be sure, but it looked like the same bear from the ventilation shaft. Had it smelled the scent of the men cooking at their camp? Followed the scent of bacon or sausage all the way up here looking for a meal? Whatever the reason, the bear had made a big mistake.
Looking at the kill, he could tell the men had packed out some of the meat. With four men, they should have been able to take even more than they had left behind. The hide would have been worth a lot of money with fur traders, and the claws would have been a novelty some rich asshole in The City would have loved to own. So, what had sent them on their way before finishing the job?
Brook.
They must have heard her getting sick. They probably decided she was worth more than any bear hide or trophies. So—where did they take her?
Not turning his back on the wolves, he crept backwards toward the campsite. He spotted a red miner’s helmet in the brush on the edge of the site. He knelt down and picked it up, turning it over and seeing her name scrawled inside. Tucked inside the headband was a folded piece of sweat stained fabric. He pulled it free and opened it to find beautifully embroidered words.
Bless My Heart. Keep Safe My Soul. Give Me Clean Air Down In The Devil’s Hole
The piece was obviously precious to her, and he stowed it away in a pocket of his vest for safekeeping. He clipped the helmet to the back of his pack, but not before running his fingers over the divots and scratches. How many times had she been close to death in the mines? How many near misses had she survived? After all of that, he couldn’t let her life end this way. He had to find her and save her.
With renewed purpose, he followed the human boot prints away from the campsite to another set of tracks. They belonged to some sort of vehicle with rugged wheels. The tracks would be easier to follow, but the vehicles meant she would be farther away from him. He couldn’t hope to run nearly as fast as the vehicles could move, but he had to try to catch up. Surely, they would have to make camp before sunset. He could close the distance and find her if they camped for the night.
Only stopping for water and to relieve himself, Cipher followed the blinking dots showing the location of the equipment. It was still moving, but he kept an eye on the horizon, certain that the movement would stop as sunset approached. One foot in front of the other, he trekked up the mountain with a single thought in his head: Brook.
The air grew cool and damp against his skin. He eyed the sky, wondering if there might be rain. He hadn’t spent enough time in the outdoors to understand how to read the weather like some of his fellow soldiers. The pilots were much better at taking one look at the sky and predicting what awaited them. What he wouldn’t give to have a pilot at his disposal right now.
He passed through a haze of cool mist. The rain he worried about never manifested, but the mist made it hard to see his surroundings. He slipped twice, his boots sliding in mud and dead leaves. He managed not to fall too far and clambered back to his feet. Running through the mist, he wiped at his face, clearing the sweat and water from his eyes. Ahead, the sun started to set and he lost the pale gray light. He grabbed a headlamp from his gear bag and fixed it into place.
Just as he was about to start jogging again, his watch vibrated. He glanced down and noticed the dots tracking the devices had stopped moving. With a groan of thanks, he marched forward into the hazy twilight. Soon, the twilight deepened to full night. He kept walking, letting the beam of his headlight illuminate a slim path in front of him. He checked his watch to make sure he was on track, not wanting to get
off course in the confusing darkness.
The mist finally stopped more than an hour later. Overhead, the clouds cleared away, and the three moons orbiting the planet filled the woods with enough light that he could turn off his headlamp. He was getting close now, so close he could smell the campfire. A short while later, he spotted the orange glow of it.
With every cautious step, he drew nearer and nearer to the campsite Brook’s kidnappers had chosen. The rowdy voices of the men echoed off the trees. From the sound of it, they had been drinking. Heavily. Probably that moonshine Brook had told him was made up here. Four drunk men and one captive woman were bad odds for her. Very, very bad odds.
Hiding behind a massive tree, he glanced around the trunk and took in the scene. Four men, two of them grossly out of shape, one wiry and lean and one strong and muscled, stood around a campfire. The fattest one tended chunks of meat suspended over the lowest part of the fire. The others traded a jar of moonshine between themselves, sloshing the alcohol into their mouths and laughing like madmen.
When his gaze finally found Brook, he had to bite back the roar of indignation that threatened to erupt from his chest. She had been stripped naked and had both wrists tied above her dangling head. She slumped forward, the poorly tied and anchored ropes failing to support her body weight. The joints in her arms and shoulders were hyperextended, and it wouldn’t be long before she dislocated something.
Her breasts and belly were coated in a slick sheen of saliva and vomit. Her skin seemed unnaturally red, and he realized she was very sick. She likely had a fever and dehydration. How much longer would she last without medical care?
“I don’t much care how much she stinks right now,” the fat blond announced to his friends. “I’ve fucked worse!”
The fattest of them, the man who seemed to be their leader, pointed at the blond with the wickedly sharp knife he was using to poke at the cooking meat. “You leave her alone, Ted. We’ll get three times as much for her if that tight little pussy of hers ain’t been poked yet.”
