Havoc (Dred Chronicles 2)

Once the smoke cleared, he counted and was disappointed to see there were still eight mercs across the way. But as long as they were pinned down, they weren’t getting any closer to their fallen men at the bottom. Hopefully, their crew was making some headway on the force-field problem, as his ammo meter read halfway, and Dred couldn’t have much more.

She timed her next shot, after the merc’s clip gave out, while he was scrambling for the next one. Jael admired the neat way she threaded the needle through the gaps in the railing, hitting the soft spot she’d created before. The second hit was fatal; the soldier slid sideways and dropped his rifle.

“Nice shooting,” he said, as she ducked down next to him. “You got one.”

Three. Vost must be livid.

A cry of rage came from the surviving soldiers, and they renewed the onslaught so hard that the railings glowed. Dred dove for the hallway and Jael crab walked after her. They burst into sight, startling the others. Martine threw Jael a roguish smile.

“Did you have fun?”

“More than,” Jael answered. “Any luck?”

Tam replied, “We’ll have to work around the outside of the wall and short out the electrical system powering the field.”

“The mercs might have something to say about that.” Dred frowned, pacing toward the railing, so she could see the conduit that controlled the force field some distance up the wall. A flurry of shots slammed the ground near her feet, and she danced back. “Maybe we shouldn’t have taunted them so much.”

“I regret nothing,” Jael said.

“Stay out of sight,” Brahm snapped.

Ali nodded. “They’ll surmise that we’ve moved on and remember their mission.”

“Vost won’t let them linger long. Five minutes at most.” Jael pulled Dred away, so even her shadow wouldn’t be visible from the outside.

Martine prowled among the group, examining each in turn. “Now we just need to decide who’s doing the climbing. Who’s a nimble monkey?”

“It’s not my strength,” Ali admitted.

They talked it over for a few moments, but then Dred held up a hand, ending the debate. “It should be me.” Jael opened up his mouth to protest, but she leveled a hard look at him.

Right, she’s the Dread Queen. Doesn’t matter if she has a burned arm.

“Are you sure you can handle it?” Martine asked.

Dred lifted a shoulder in an eloquent shrug. “Near enough. When the coast’s clear, I’ll get out there and do my part.”

17

Falling Hard

Ironic. If we had been shooting from a level up, I could’ve gotten the mercs to destroy the conduits for me.

Dred made sure not to look down as she climbed. Part of her wished she could find a good vantage and explode the thing with a rifle, but she couldn’t take the chance that the shot would echo, drawing the mercs back. It was unlikely she’d get to cover before seven angry soldiers unloaded on her, and she didn’t intend for this to be a suicide mission.

So she inched up the wall, digging into rusty notches and hauling herself up by cables that might not be strong enough to bear her weight. Just as she thought that, the cord snapped and she plummeted a few meters, then caught herself on a jutting rivet. The metal bit into her palm and cut into it, so blood slicked her fingers. Dred curled one hand around the bolt, her heart thumping in her chest. Hope Jael’s not watching this. Deliberately, she wiped the blood on her palms, ignored the burning pain in her shoulder, and reached up with her other hand.

It took all her strength to scramble back up to where she’d been when she fell, then she pressed on. Her eyes were fixed on the conduits above. Her heartbeat slowed as she neared the goal. Ten meters to go. Five. Don’t think about falling. When she got her feet on the railing, her palms on the conduit, she took a few deep breaths. Then she carefully drew her knife and went to work. It took long moments to short out the circuits, and the resultant shock rocked her so hard, she almost dropped off the wall.

Her head spun, and she leaned her cheek against the metal while waiting for the numbness and tingles to subside. She was sure the conduit wasn’t firing anymore, but she reached in and pulled out the wires just in case. Then she clambered down the wall. Her injured palm throbbed, and so did her burned arm. She had been a little surprised when Jael didn’t pull her aside to argue that she wasn’t strong enough to get the job done.

When she finally fell onto solid ground—what seemed like hours later—Jael was there to pull her in. His arms went around her, and he put his cheek to her hair. Her hands settled at his waist; it was like the world went away. She didn’t hear the station noises or the others milling around in the hallway past his shoulder. There was only his heartbeat thudding beneath her ear.

He stroked her back, and whispered, “You just sliced a few turns off my life, love.”

“Did it work?”

“Like a charm.” He kept his arm around her and moved into the next hallway, where no amber force field hummed. “See?”

Dred nodded, patted him once on the hip, and strode onward. The others followed as she ran toward the internal stairs. From there it was a clear shot to the bottom. The repair bay where the merc had fallen wasn’t too far off. Hopefully, the rifles the mercs dropped aren’t completely beyond repair. She could taste those weapons when she rounded a corner and skidded to a stop. There will be armor, too. If it’s damaged, Ike may be able to salvage it. Even then it was a close call, as the turrets came to life, pelting the corridor with rounds. She dropped instantly, and the shots flew over her head, slamming into the back wall.

“Don’t come any closer,” she shouted.

“We noticed the welcoming committee.” That was Jael’s voice.

She lay still, scanning the door behind the turret. It looked solid as hell, but there was a keypad beside it. They might be able to hack their way through the lock, but first they had to deal with the turrets. But I don’t want to damage them. We could use them in Queensland. Unfortunately, these aren’t coded to recognize our mag bracelets. Ike had worked on the other salvaged turrets, so they recognized VIPs. There weren’t many, but it helped when she, Tam, or Jael were coming in hot after a mission.

The others stood out of range of the motion sensors, debating her predicament. She scooted backward in infinitesimal movements, relying on Jael not to panic. She’d been in worse situations today. Getting away from the automated defenses just required patience.