Dissonance: Aurora Renegades Book Two (Aurora Rhapsody 5) Page 19

  “Are you crazy? I’m not leaving you, Noah.”

  “Listen, there’s nothing you can do for me here. I’m trapped good and proper. One of us should—” he almost said ‘survive’ “—get out.”

  Her alluring, full lips quivered in agitation and probably fear, serving as a vanguard for the rest of her features. Then her jaw set. “No.”

  “Come on, Blondie—”

  “You are so damn infuriating! You rescued me when I was trapped under tons of rubble, even though you had every reason in the world to just keep running and save yourself. I may not be able to rescue you, but…but I won’t leave you to…I won’t leave you, dammit, so shut up.”

  33

  ROMANE

  INDEPENDENT COLONY

  INDEPENDENT DEFENSE CONSORTIUM HEADQUARTERS

  * * *

  MORGAN ENLARGED THE MOST RECENT visual scans above the table in the still-makeshift briefing room.

  “This is what we know. Six Class III tugs have attached themselves to the Rasogo II facility. They’re towing it on a bearing N 18.24° -6.05°z W relative to Romane at a speed of 1,800 megameters per hour.

  “Now, normally tugs don’t have weapons beyond a single utility laser, but these are probably Olivia Montegreu’s tugs, which means they’ll probably have legitimate weapons. In addition, they have an escort of five merc hybrid fighters, which are nothing but weapons.

  “Our first objective is to sever the cabling lines tethering the facility to the tugs. Wherever they’re taking it, we don’t want it to get there, nor do we want the battle taking place somewhere they have the advantage and possibly reinforcement armaments. But most important is this: if we disable any of those tugs while Rasogo II is still tethered to it, the structure could be ripped apart. Seeing as there are civilians on board, hopefully alive, that is not an optimal outcome.”

  Her gaze roved over the room to where Harper stood leaning against the wall with ostensibly casual interest, if not mild disdain. The taut, corded muscles running down the woman’s neck and across her shoulders, exposed by the form-fitting tank she wore, told a different story. A muscle twitched in her jaw as Morgan’s eyes landed on her.

  “As soon as the cables are gone, Harper’s team will sneak onto the facility using the cloaked shuttle. We will draw the fighters away then engage them.”

  One of the pilots, Regina Olsen, raised a hand. “What about the tugs? If they’re weaponized, they might shoot up the place or, if they’re feeling vengeful, crash themselves into it.”

  A corner of Morgan’s mouth curled up. “That’s why Mr. Naissen will be taking the lead initially when engaging the fighters. I’ll be along, but first I need to deliver a few gifts.”

  Olsen nodded, satisfied. The team had mostly given up inquiring about the many secret toys, tools and information Morgan enjoyed.

  “Once all targets have been destroyed and Harper’s team has neutralized the enemies inside Rasogo II, we’ll guard the structure until friendly tugs from Advent Materials arrive to return it to where it belongs. Advent will also be implementing additional security, so that will signify the end of the mission. Any questions?”

  They looked nervous and hyped on apprehension, but no one raised a hand. They were anxious to go. So was she.

  “Dismissed. We fly in five.”

  The rings of the atmosphere corridor gave way to the faint haze from the last vestiges of the atmosphere, then to the stars.

  Thanks to Romane’s binary suns, space here was never truly black. They also meant a flash of glaring light lurked around most shifts in trajectory, hence the omnipresent filters on the glass.

  A little glare did nothing to dampen the rush of adrenaline coursing through Morgan as her flight gathered in formation and sped toward Rasogo II. It wasn’t her first time back in the cockpit or in space, as they’d been training for weeks now. But this time it was real—real enemies using real weapons who would fight and die—and her body knew it. Her mind knew it.

  I know it as well, if you’re interested.

  It was a faint whisper in the recesses of her mind. Stanley’s voice grew quieter every day…and she didn’t know why or what to do about it. I wouldn’t have suggested otherwise. You’re in my brain cells, after all. This will be your first true combat mission.

  We controlled thousands of fighters in the decisive battle against the Metigens. This cannot possibly be different.

  Wait and see. But deep down, she wondered if he remained strong enough to appreciate the intensity of the experience.

  The tugs were operating at what must be maximum speed, but the fastest Class III tug was still slow, and they caught up to the entourage in minutes.

  Commander Lekkas: Listen up, squad. It’s show time. Targets are marked and assigned. Slice your designated cables, and ignore any incoming fire. Your ships can take the abuse.

  She hoped the squad members were ready. For some of them, it had been years or even decades since they’d flown in combat; others never had. Plus, knowing the adiamene hull could absorb anything directed at it was different than believing it, particularly when one sat in the snug cockpit of a tiny ship being shot at by a hulking, imposing vessel. Luckily for them the adiamene should protect them from the worst consequences of the mistakes they were guaranteed to make.

  The other pilots may not appreciate the technological marvel the new fighters were, but she certainly did. The adiamene and the reduced need for force shields it brought meant no extra weight, no bulk that wasn’t engine or weapon. Though they weren’t flying in-atmo today, the design was nonetheless optimized for it, so aerodynamic drag would be essentially nil. And the entire cockpit was virtual. Forget whisper displays—for her the controls now acted as an extension not of her eVi, but of her quantized mind.

  She arced above the sprawling Rasogo II facility and toward the center tug on the far side. The cabling strung out for some two hundred kilometers. Good. It reduced the risk of one of the vessels crashing into the structure.

  The starboard side of her fighter lit up in weapons fire from the tug. It was powerful—she’d been right about them being unusually heavily armed—but it didn’t mar the adiamene.

  She fired on the thick double cables, circling them in a tight arc as her laser burned through the tough, durable material.

  Olsen shrieked on the squad comm. Help! This tug’s tearing me apart!

  Commander Lekkas: No, it’s not. Calm down and concentrate on your mission.

  Olsen: But I—

  The cabling fell away, and Morgan yanked hard to port. Olsen was flying erratically, jerking around ineffectually in an attempt to avoid the tug’s attacks. She targeted Olsen’s assigned cabling as soon as she came in range. It broke apart just before she reached it, and she sailed through the widening gap.

  Commander Lekkas: Get out of here Olsen, before you kill somebody.

  In her tactical vision the final cabling from the final tug fell free, the rest of the squad having managed to do their jobs.

  She switched comm channels.

  Commander Lekkas: Harper, you are clear to go.

  HarperRF: Acknowledged.

  Five red dots grew on the map as the fighter protection neared.

  Commander Lekkas: Everyone else, engage those fighters. Remember, draw them away from here and toward the designated coordinates, so you can help each other out.

  Now to deal with the tugs in a more final manner. She spun and accelerated above the plane the structure occupied. A smile grew on her lips. Damn, it was good to be home.

  As she neared the closest vessel, she released her first payload. Two high-powered yet miniaturized plasma bombs dropped and attached themselves to the vessel’s hull. The tug captain likely didn’t even know it had happened.

  She repeated the action for the second and third tugs then veered across the top of the facility toward those on the other side.

  The long expanse of metal beneath her shuddered in a blast of light as several of the tugs fired on the faci
lity. Of course they fired on the facility. If they couldn’t have it, they intended to destroy it.

  Terrific. The exterior hull was strong of necessity, but it wasn’t a military structure designed to withstand directed assaults. It wasn’t going to last long.

  Harper growled in her ear. Dammit, Lekkas, you said we were clear!

  Commander Lekkas: Seven seconds. Chill.

  Fourth tug. Fifth. Sixth. She blew the charges the instant the last one stuck.

  The explosions were contained by design. The tugs crumpled in on themselves rather than exploding outward, which would have sent dangerous debris hurtling toward the facility.

  Commander Lekkas: Now you’re clear.

  HarperRF: Am I?

  She flinched at the bite in Harper’s tone. Out here, yes. Anyone hurt?

  HarperRF: Not yet.

  RASOGO II

  ROMANE STELLAR SYSTEM

  Kennedy gasped when the walls and floor began to shake violently. The strewn crates and equipment jostled around, and she yanked her foot in an instant before a crate fell where it had lain.

  Noah moaned as the debris crushing his arm shifted. She crawled closer and brought a hand to his face. It could be the dim light, but he looked so pale. His skin felt clammy beneath her palm. He’d passed out half an hour ago, and despite the moan, the shuddering didn’t wake him now.

  Her head was throbbing, eVi-provided pain suppressors notwithstanding, but it hardly mattered. She probably had a concussion, and her eVi had kept her from falling asleep so far. She was so very tired…but she needed to be awake in case Noah stirred.

  The station shook again, more viciously this time. Her eyes widened in horror as the crate balanced above the one pinning Noah teetered. She threw herself over him and buried her head in the curve of his shoulder.

  She remained there for untold seconds, scared to move, knowing another shudder would bury them both.

  The blow never came. Finally, she gingerly pulled away and checked his condition again. He was still breathing…it was all she dared say with any confidence.

  She scooted back to the wall, exhausted from the minimal activity.

  Maybe she’d been wrong to stay; maybe she could have successfully escaped and returned with help by now. But she had no weapons. If she’d run into whoever had invaded the facility, it would have meant a permanent end to her life.

  She lifted her hand off the floor to run through her hair, but stopped when she noticed it had come up from the floor sticky with blood. She skittered farther down the wall. Jeffrey Kass’ blood. It had to be. She thought his body had been trampled under the heavy equipment, leaving his blood to ooze out from beneath it.

  The stark realization made her gag. She leaned over to retch, but only saliva dribbled out from between her lips.

  A muffled shout drove the unpleasant images away, to be replaced by new ones. Were the attackers coming around for another pass now that they had full control of the facility?

  She’d have preferred to die in the initial attack. At least then she wouldn’t have had to suffer these hours of despair, huddling here in the dark watching Noah’s life seep out of him.

  More noises echoed in the distance, chaotic and uneven. She couldn’t make any sense of what was happening. Was someone fighting back? Was this rescue in the making?

  Boots thudding against the floor—lots of them—drew closer. This was it, for good or ill.

  A light illuminated the hallway, blinding her momentarily.

  “Anyone alive down here?”

  If it was the attackers, all was already lost, so she shielded her eyes with one hand. “Yes! Please, we need help!”

  Four people jogged down the hall toward her. Two turned to face away, guns raised; the other two knelt beside them. “What’s the situation? Are you injured?”

  “I’m fine, but Noah needs urgent medical attention. His arm’s trapped—”

  The soldier cut her off. “Noah? Terrage?”

  “Yes.” She squinted into the harsh light. “Captain Harper?”

  “Affirmative.” The woman leaned across Noah and shone another light at his upper arm where it disappeared beneath the crate, then up the pile of debris. “Okay. We’ve got a medical evac in-bound. It’ll be here soon. I’ll notify the medics of your location.” She held her hand out behind her, palm up. “Verela, I need a bio-bond injection.”

  One of the other soldiers grabbed a syringe and a vial out of his pack, snapped the vial into the syringe casing and handed it over. Harper pulled the collar of Noah’s shirt down and shoved the needle into the soft tissue above his collarbone. “We don’t dare try to free him until the medical personnel are here to intervene once he’s clear, but this should help isolate the injury and keep him stable until they arrive.”

  To intervene. Harper didn’t know what they would find once the crate was moved. Nothing good, so many different possibilities of bad.

  She took a deep breath. “I understand. I’ll stay here with him.”

  Harper peered at her suspiciously. “You have a head wound.”

  “What? Oh, it’s nothing.”

  “I need some collagen gel.”

  The same soldier retrieved the gel and passed it to Harper, who set the tube beside her. Then, without asking, she grasped Kennedy’s head with both hands and began feeling for the wound.

  A second later a soothing coolness spread down the back of her head, and Harper released her. Kennedy tried for a grateful smile, but she wasn’t exactly at her best. “Thank you.”

  A curt nod accompanied the woman vaulting to her feet. She pointed to one of the soldiers behind her. “This is Bryan Pello. He’s going to guard this junction up here. We need to finish sweeping the facility. Civilian comms are back up, so if there’s a problem, message me at »HarperRF.”

  Were they? She hadn’t noticed. Her injury might be worse than she thought.

  The soldiers took off once more, but the one Harper had pointed to halted at the junction and took up an alert stance.

  She leaned down and kissed Noah’s forehead. “Hey, guess what? You were right. Rescue came. You’re going to be okay. Just hold on for a while longer.”

  Her squad took out all five fighters before Morgan reached the battle, surprising and impressing her. The rapid victory also explained, however, why the mercenaries had wanted to steal the facility. They needed adiamene if they hoped to match their adversaries in the field.

  She ordered the fighters back to Rasogo II for patrol duty then landed in the docking bay.

  Controlled chaos awaited her. She scanned the bay and determined a medical transport was serving as the focal point for much of the chaos. One person was being loaded on a stretcher into the transport, and another was being treated with some exigency on the floor beside it. Two medical personnel rushed out of the bay into the interior carrying a med kit and collapsed stretcher.

  Commander Lekkas: Harper, report.

  HarperRF: All accessible areas are secure. Two sections are cut off by debris. We’ve got nine dead mercenaries and three in custody. Fourteen dead civilians, eight injured and five unharmed. Four are missing, but given the state of this place I expect we’ll find their bodies when the debris is removed—hold one.

  While she waited, she watched two medics guide another stretcher toward the transport, followed by two bedraggled, dazed workers stumbling along in its wake.

  HarperRF: On our way to you with the two of the prisoners.

  Commander Lekkas: Any word on Rossi or Terrage?

  HarperRF: Yeah. Rossi’s ambulatory, but Noah got pinned by equipment. He may live, but no way he’s not losing an arm.

  Morgan cringed. She didn’t care for the man, but that didn’t sound good.

  Harper and five members of her team emerged from the dark hall with two handcuffed mercs in tow. Harper had one by the arm, driving him forward roughly.

  Morgan went over to meet her at the shuttle. “They say who they’re working for?”

  Har
per shoved the prisoner into a jump seat and secured restraints around him. “Haven’t bothered to ask. Been a little busy.”

  She looked like it, too. Blood decorated various parts of her tactical gear and much of her face. Strands of damp, no longer blonde hair peeked out from beneath her helmet, and she had a cut above her left cheek. Her skin shone with sweat and was flushed from exertion. A Daemon hung off one hip and a daisy chain of grenades off the other.

  Morgan blinked. Shit, she’d been staring. Luckily Harper was busy double-checking the prisoner’s restraints and hadn’t noticed.

  Yet another stretcher emerged from the entry hallway. Even tangled and blooded, Rossi’s curls were unmistakable as she hurried behind it. The figure on the stretcher—Terrage, she assumed—had a large medical stasis device surrounding his left shoulder, and the arm below it was completely encased in thick medwraps.

  Rossi looked up and, spotting Morgan, mouthed a ‘thank you.’ She nodded tightly in response.

  When Harper stepped away from the prisoner, Morgan climbed into the shuttle and got in his personal space. “Then I’ll ask. Who are you working for?”

  The man spat in her face.

  She rolled her eyes and wiped the spittle off her cheek. Then she punched him square across the jaw before grabbing him by the throat. “Who are you working for?”

  The man’s teeth gritted in her grip behind busted lips. “You’re like her—crazy glowing eyes. Unnatural, inhuman eyes.”

  She released him with a dramatic shove and leapt out. “Olivia Montegreu, like we thought. Somebody really needs to kill that bitch.”

  Harper took the next prisoner from two of her team and tossed the woman in an empty jump seat. “Point the way.”

  ROMANE

  INDEPENDENT DEFENSE CONSORTIUM HEADQUARTERS

  Brooklyn found Morgan waiting for her in the briefing room when she returned from cataloging all the equipment and making certain it was checked into the system. Mostly and haphazardly. The rush from the op still buzzed around in her brain like a fly she couldn’t—and frankly didn’t want to—swat away.