Chapter 5

  Radical Deconstruction

  Roger and Zev were working at the atmo-planes. Roger had crawled into the maintenance hatch.

  “For all I do around here, and he tells me to go find something to shoot.” Zev huffed. He was standing next to the manual crank for the wing.

  Roger was better suited for cranking; his enhanced muscles could generate much more power than Zev’s large but normal ones. Zev would have been better in the maintenance hatch, but he was too massive. The best person for that job would have been Zara, but of course she couldn’t walk at the moment.

  “When you get to the junction box, remember to disconnect the power and unlock it,” Zev called in. Roger could handle minor fixes, but sometimes he forgot the simple things. With his enhanced strength, breaking things was easy. Lately, his control had started to drift. Simple tasks took more focus, but when he was fighting he was in his element and his implants worked their best. It was the lulls that gave him trouble.

  Zev heard the click of the lock disengaging and started to crank the atmo-drive plane out. It was hard—his whole body trembled with the effort. This was not a one-man task.

  The click of boots on the deck made him look up-sweat pouring off him, but he kept going.

  “I want to check out the ship Roger found,” Annalynn said. “I want you to come with me.”

  “Yes, ma’am”—Zev’s voice strained—“just as soon as I get the wing out for Roger and start to trace the wires.” Zara should be able to talk him through the rest.” With a final rotation, the handle clicked into place.

  “Roger, with the wing locked out, start to trace the wires—remember to record in low light, infrared, and whatever you can see of the EM field.”

  Annalynn’s comm pinged; her hair flashed blue as she pulled it off her belt. It was Roger: “Make him go away. I know what I’m doing—this place sucks as it is.”

  “Roger, I’m taking Zev to the other ship. I’m going to try to crack their computer. Sarsha is busy with Zara, so keep an eye on our guest,” Annalynn called in. She knew he would hear her—the crew’s voices were what his nanites were tuned to.

  “I want you to bring one of the plasma torches—the big one,” she said, leading the way to the port cargo hold. This was where most of the tools were stored. The ship had two cargo holds; both had been designed to detach, giving troops on the ground all the equipment they would need.

  It wasn’t long before the pair were trekking through the woods—Annalynn carrying her rifle and a pack full of computer-hacking gear. Zev was having a much worse time. He lugged an industrial-sized plasma torch—something used in ship-breaking yards—and his own oversized rifle.

  He was used to being the pack mule. Ever since his time with the army he’d been the big guy and his sergeants loved making him carry the heavy stuff. It was the reason he’d learned to use heavy weapons—his size and strength made it much easier for him to wield them.

  Most people were bogged down by their weight. Not Zev—he could run and maneuver with crew-served weapons almost as fast as Roger. Roger was a super commando, but his small size made handling mass and bulk harder.

  Still, that didn’t mean this didn’t suck. After cranking the wing out by hand he wanted a break—but no, the bossy woman in his life never let up.

  Annalynn was a great captain and an even better pilot, but her tone was always sharp. It wasn’t until he learned to read her hair that he really got her.

  “Ma’am, how much further?”

  “Should be about ten minutes at this pace—faster if we cut across the open fields,” she replied, eyes sweeping the way ahead. “I think we should stick to the trees, but you’re carrying five hundred pounds, so it’s up to you.”

  A shorter walk sure sounded nice. Problem was, they still didn’t know who was out there watching. The trees gave decent cover from sight—and enough heat masking to matter.

  “You know the answer—we’ll stick to the trees. These aren’t so bad, not a lot of undergrowth,” Zev said, no trace of strain in his voice. Sarsha would be mad he was carrying this much. The longer he put off talking to her about it, the better.

  “Sensors haven’t picked anything up since last night. I think we might be catching a break.” Her voice was calm. She moved lightly in her combat gear—black boots, black pants, black shirt. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, still falling to the middle of her back.

  Zev took a moment to look at her. She always said she hated fieldwork, but she moved well. She kept the crew in shape—and she lived it herself. Shoulders wide from weight training, waist narrow from cardio, legs that could keep moving for days. Zara wanted to be like her.

  She was quiet compared to his thundering steps. He tried to move light, but with that much weight, it was a joke.

  “Ship’s just ahead. I will go scout. Catch up when you can.” Without wanting for a reply Annalynn jogged forward.

  Taking a moment, Zev slowing twisted side to side, keeping his back loose. He was packing way more than was safe. He could have made two trips, but that means more time away from the cover of a ship. He was not slowed that much with the gear.

  He caught his first glimpse of the ship through the trees. It was a grey mess. Panels different colors where they had been replaced. The hull was pitted and scratched. It was more square then any ship he had seen before.

  He moved to cover behind the largest tree he could find and lowered his pack to the ground. With the weight off his back he felt like he was floating. Taking a deep breath, he focused on the job ahead.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Looking around the tree he didn’t see Annalynn. Not that he expected to. He slowing looked around, he rifle going where his eyes did. Nothing stood out.

  Stepping out of cover he approached the ship. Still weary of the unknown. The back ramp was down. Not sure if Roger left it he moved next to the hull. Staying as close to the ship as possible, he made his way to the side of the ramp.

  Taking a step back way from the ship he rolled around the corner. The ship was dark, the ramp empty. He would have to risk using his comm. Tapping her profile, he sent her a ping.

  Stepping onto the ramp, he kept expecting a response from her. His large rifle wasn’t the best weapon for clearing a ship. With a quick adjustment he brought the barrel in and collapsed the stock. Now about a third shorter, it would be easier to swing around corners—but just as heavy.

  Kicking himself for not bringing a sidearm, he began to advance into the ship. He moved slowly, keeping his noise to a minimum.

  Once up the ramp, he cleared the hold. Empty. Two doors on opposite sides of the far wall were the only way forward, both closed. Working right to left, he checked them. Each had power and read as unlocked.

  Going to the middle of the wall, he pulled out his comm. Still nothing from her. Her comm showed active. Maybe she hadn’t heard it—but not likely. His options were to search for her or return to the ship. Without all the gear he could make it back quickly. If he did that and she needed his help, he’d be abandoning her.

  He could risk calling the Wrath. If someone was out there, that might lead them to the ship. On the plus side, Roger could be here in a minute. His eyes would find her—or what happened to her.

  The only course of action that didn’t put the ship or Annalynn in more danger was to find her. Nothing to it but to do it. With that, he hit the button to open the door on the right.

  It slid halfway, then jammed. The gap was wide enough for him to squeeze through—but not by much.

  Bringing his weapon in close, he stepped through.

  The hallway beyond was dark, and he didn’t have enhanced vision. Not expecting to clear a dark ship, he hadn’t brought low-light gear. He had his work light—not that it would do much good, except to draw fire.

  Power. If he could get the power on, the lights should work. That might alert someone he was aboard, but it was better than fumbling in the dark. Most ships had their main engines and power plant in the middle, toward the back. Trusting his sense of direction, he moved off into the black. The emergency lights should have been on.

  Pausing at each door, Zev checked his angles as best he could. He’d made it through a few doors when his comm pinged. Annalynn. Black black black red red purple. Just colors spilling across his screen.

  Her hair code—black meant serious, red meant angry, purple meant embarrassed. She’d been focused, then pissed, now embarrassed. None of that meant safe. If she could’ve sent real words, she would have.

  He checked for location data. Nothing. Maybe he could trace it. Yeah—if he were Zara.

  It didn’t make sense she’d gone into the ship. More likely she was out on the perimeter.

  Zev backtracked as fast as he could. Soon he was at the door to the ramp. Still stuck halfway. Squeezing through again wasn’t any more fun than the first time.

  Once he was through the doorway, Zev made his way to the ramp, careful to stay out of line of sight for anyone on the outside.

  “That bitch broke my nose!” a hard voice yelled. “I say we just kill her.”

  “She’s the only leverage we have—now shut it,” a different voice snapped. “You in the ship, Roger—we know you’re in there. Come out; we have your captain.”

  At least Zev knew what had annoyed Annalynn. How the pirates had managed to capture her was a problem for later. Now he had to figure out what to do.

  They thought Roger was in here. Either pros with high-end gear or unlucky amateurs. Didn’t matter—they’d threatened his captain. Zev didn’t like when people threatened his captain. They were in for a really bad time.

  Lying on his side at the top of the ramp, he leaned his head out. He could see two men standing over a kneeling Annalynn. One’s face was bloodied; both had weapons trained on her.

  His chest pounded as he watched her hair. There were streaks of red through it—five streaks, two aimed at the men with guns. That signaled at least three other gunmen Annalynn knew about.

  If he called, Roger would be there in about a minute. He had to assume the pirates were monitoring comms. He’d left his demolition gear by the tree. All he had now was his rifle.

  It was a very big rifle—capable of sending slugs at a fraction of the speed of light. He could crater the ground beneath them. That would hit Annalynn, of course. She was good, but he didn’t think she could get out of the way fast enough.

  He could fire one huge slug at extreme velocity, or a string of smaller rounds at slower speed—still more than lethal. They were expecting Roger; what would he do?

  Roger would have turrets set up to track motion. Roger could move faster than people could react. Roger was best in close quarters; they’d want to keep him at a distance—powerful shotguns, spread weapons.

  “Damn it, we’re not going to stand here all day. Come out now or we kill the bitch.” The man with the smashed face paired words with action and raised a pistol to Annalynn’s head.

  Her hair went solid black, then waves of red spilled out—growing more solid. That was her signal. “Last chance—you can still be a hero,” the man yelled, his hand starting to shake.

  Hair solid red—her foot snapped at his ankle. She rolled, forcing him to pull the trigger. The gun jumped in his hand; the bullet impacted the dirt next to his companion’s foot.

  At that moment Zev fired. A quick burst—he hit the gun-holder in the chest. He poured fire down the ramp, keeping the pirates pinned. When he saw Annalynn roll out of sight, his finger hit a switch on the rifle. The rapid shots died; the barrel began to glow.

  Rounds slammed into the cargo bay, shrapnel and ricochet forcing Zev to roll out of the way. A few more seconds. An indicator on his rifle lit. Steeling his nerves, he rolled back into the incoming onslaught.

  Bullets whizzed past his head as he lined up the shot.

  Boom. The ground where the pirates stood erupted—dirt and rock flying, dust boiling out to obscure everything.

  Rushing forward, Zev used the concealment and charged down the ramp. As soon as his boot hit dirt, he pivoted right, firing as he went. The rifle hammered his shoulder; he kept his aim high. He’d approached from this side.

  He reached the edge of the ship and ducked around the corner. With a heartbeat to spare, he tapped his panic button.

  Staying tight to the hull, he brought his rifle up and scanned for targets. Moments later, three long beeps sounded. The crew was coming.

  The woods to his right erupted—plasma bursts, then laser fire. Heat slammed into him as the spot where the pirates had been standing vanished in flame.

  His comm buzzed. Sparing a moment, he glanced at it—Roger, all clear on his side. It buzzed again.

  A message from Annalynn: she was clear, but hurt.

  “Roger, do you have eyes on her?” Zev shouted, fear rising.

  “Negative. Too much heat for thermals, too much dust for eyes,” Roger replied, calm as ever. No hint he’d just run miles through the woods carrying a heavy plasma repeater.

  “She was center of the ramp, near the crater when I fired.” Zev squinted into the haze. The air shimmered with heat.

  “I have the captain’s location,” called a voice he didn’t expect. What the hell was Zara doing here? He’d deal with that later.

  His comm pinged with Annalynn’s position. Roger was closer—and she was in the middle of the scorched earth.

  “I have overwatch,” Zev said.

  “Roger,” came back as Roger moved. The heat would burn him like anyone else, but he was faster. Zev lost sight of him in the shimmer.

  A figure appeared, carrying someone. Zev kept his sights trained until Roger jogged out of the haze with Annalynn in his arms.

  He laid her down next to Zev. Her eyes were open, but she was badly burned. She shirt was torn and burned. Her hair was locked black.

  “Which one of you thought a plasma repeater was a good idea?” She coughed. Her voice soft but holding an edge.

  “Boss,” Roger began,

  “I don’t really care right now. We need to get back to the ship.” Annalynn cut Roger off.