Havoc

27 No Greater Love

“I hope this works,” Dred said.

Recent intel indicated that the mercs traveled as a single unit, so there could be no more hit-and-run strikes. With Tam’s new weapons, this was the first time they would engage them en masse, and she was nervous. Not that I don’t trust Tam, but . . . It was a big risk to take while using untested weapons. She would’ve preferred to engage with Mungo’s men first to make sure the grenades would work as intended, but since they only had so many of them, after some discussion, they’d decided to do a field test.

With luck and timing, we take out a good number and get away clean.

She might not be able to do anything about the former, but she could work on the latter. Dred strode among her forces, giving last-minute orders. For this to work, it had to be an ambush, and they needed the high ground with some cover. A straight-up fight would end badly for her side, so Tam had watched Vost’s movements for a full day, timing his routes, and they were now set up just outside the command post.

She had twelve people with her, a mix of aliens and humans. Some were armed with laser rifles, others had the poison grenades, and the last four were using the crazy-looking carbines Tam had jury-rigged out of scrap and chem. There was no way to be sure if the plan would go as intended, but she hoped so. Though they’d managed a few successes, the way the mercs were mowing through Mungo’s horde, it wouldn’t be long before they finished wiping that part of the station and moved on to Queensland.

“We should be set,” Tam reported.

Dred turned to her people. “Everyone clear on their orders?”

A series of quiet nods came in response to the question as they were already set and focused at the railing. The odds were three to one against them if the mercs found a place to hunker down, and even worse if they closed since most of her people didn’t have armor. But we do have vicious cunning and desperation, the stuff dreams are made of.

She took a deep breath, listening for RC-17. They’d placed the bot for surveillance, and it would signal when the mercs were near. It didn’t take long before the whistles and beeps rang out, and she knelt alongside the rifle division. Grandiose word for five of us. Dred fought the urge to utter more cautions and explanations. They know the drill. We can do this.

As soon as the mercs stepped onto the platform below, she opened fire, aiming for the faceplates. She let Jael take Vost since he was a better shot, and it took her three tries to crack the glastique on one. The mercs returned fire, forcing her down. Around her, others fared better, taking out targets, while the carbine users unloaded with the acid pellets Tam and Jael had fabricated. They exploded with a hiss as they hit armor and immediately went to work on the structural integrity. If the stuff wasn’t washed off, it would eat through the skin.

Once a good portion of the mercs were wearing helmets with compromised filtration systems, her people lobbed the gas grenades. On impact, they shot off clouds of green gas, and she waved the retrieval crew in. Jael led the run, along with those in all the helmets they could spare. The gas reduced visibility, leaving the mercs who could still breathe firing blind and worried about hitting their comrades while their cohorts staggered and wheezed and yet others were scrambling desperately out of armor that was dissolving on their skin.

“Grab as much as you can carry,” she shouted. “No more. We need to fall back.”

The point of this strike wasn’t to kill all the mercs in one go. She lacked both the firepower and manpower for a full-out assault. No, this was another guerilla strike, aimed at surprising and demoralizing them. If we whittle away at them when they’ve started to feel safe, it’ll erode their confidence. It wasn’t just a ground war she was fighting; she was also trying to break their spirits. Artan taught me something about that at least.

“Don’t let them take your weapons,” Vost choked out, but since Jael had smashed the faceplate on his helmet, he was also inhaling the gas, so his words were strangled by the wheeze and whine of his labored breathing.

“Move, move, move!” Dred called.

Her people were hauling multiple bodies, clad in armor, and others had weapons. A barrage of laser fire came in hard and Ali threw herself in front of Brahm, who was running with his head down, rifles in both hands. The smell of burning hair filled the air as the Rodeisian female went down. Even from this vantage, Dred could tell it was serious. The concentrated laser fire burned a hole clean through the fur and into Ali’s spine. Her hands and feet spasmed, and her breath went fast and shallow. She tried to turn over and failed, a small whimper escaping her.

“Brahm?”

“I’m here.” He dropped to his knees beside her and took a shot in the back. It cracked the chitin, and Dred yanked him into cover with a muttered curse.

“I’m sorry,” Ali whispered.

Another minute of this, and they’ll rush us. Then we die. She positioned her rifle on the metal lip and fired back, but the citrine cloud hindered her as well as the mercs. Her shots went in wild, slamming the floor in a laser light show that probably did little more than make them dance. She glanced at Jael, who came in at her side to focus fire. He aimed at the stairs, trying to keep the area too hot for the enemy to push.

“She’s gone,” Tam said.

There was no way they could transport Ali’s body, as well as haul all the armor and weapons. Martine and Calypso stripped the undamaged pieces as fast as they could, while Dred and Jael fired at the mercs down below. A few made it past, staggering toward the stairs, and she shook her head, laying down a tight line of red. She hit their leg armor so they had to fall back or lose the segment with another shot, but they were hungry for payback. One death on her side wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy angry soldiers.

“We can’t stay here. Are we ready to roll out?”

“Nearly. Give me a minute,” Calypso answered.

Brahm was still and quiet on his knees. Dred knew nothing about Ithtorian expressions, but he didn’t look all right. “She knew I can take a hit. Why didn’t she let me?”

“Reflex,” Calypso said. “Caring makes you weak. On your feet, bug man. I’m not dying today.” With that, the mistress of the circle hauled him up, and he didn’t resist, or she probably couldn’t have budged him, despite what Dred knew to be exceptional strength.

Jael hurled another grenade at the stairs, so the men with damaged faceplates couldn’t follow. That left the mercs the unenviable decision of whether to split their forces, which had proven to be a bad strategy, or to let their attackers go. The argument sounded behind her, but she didn’t glance back to see which side was winning. If we get back to Queensland with this haul, we’re home free.

Ahead of her, she saw ichor trickling down Brahm’s back. Does cracked chitin heal? She figured it might seal over time because it probably renewed itself somehow, but she had no scientific information to back up the theory. No medicine to help him, either. If the wound got infected, she might have to put him down. Triage was her least favorite part of leading Queensland, worse even than living up to the impossible standards Tam had set for the Dread Queen. It was hard as hell to look into a man’s eyes, then end his life and call it kindness.

They didn’t stop running until they hit the barricades. A few times, she felt like she was being watched, but nobody attacked. That made Dred think it was Silence’s people like rats in the walls, spying and spinning schemes. But she didn’t have time to worry about that when the mercs would be out for blood, and Mungo’s men were still trying to breach the perimeter in the hope of winning the promised pardons.

They’re so stupid it hurts.

Dred blew toward the turrets at a run, and her mag bracelet kept her safe. She turned off the defenses long enough for everyone to pass, then she powered them back up. It was sobering—and awful—that they didn’t have to deconstruct the junk pile for Ali. That would never happen again. This is what it’s like to be hunted. Back on Tehrann, she’d known men who liked to go out and shoot things for sport. While she’d disapproved in principle, she’d never considered how the animals must feel—one minute living their lives and the next interrupted by a danger they had no hope of surviving.

But I can’t give up.

To make matters worse, Keelah and Katur were waiting when they came out in the common room. Queenslanders roared in approval of the new gear, but the alien leaders searched the group, then Katur stepped forward. “What went wrong?”

“She saved me,” Brahm said, lowering his head.

“Ah.” Keelah raised him with a hand on his mandible. “Then she died as well as anyone can in this place. I’ll inform the others and arrange for her service.”