Chapter 32
Ethan came awake in a rush.
The door of whatever room he was in had just closed, but he knew, before he even opened his eyes, that Velda was here with him.
He sat up, just as she lifted up on an elbow and twisted to look behind her.
Five other people lay unconscious on stretchers between them.
He had been restrained, but the restraints were unlocked, which was confusing. He shook them off and as soon as he slid off the bed, he saw what Velda had turned to look at—a man lying dead on the med bay floor near the cupboards.
Velda turned at the sound of him moving around, and swung off the bed with the kind of smile he would remember in his darkest moments.
They did not say anything as they stepped into each others’ arms and he held her as close as he could.
“You all right?” she whispered.
“Yes. You?”
She leaned back a little, and that laughter was dancing in her eyes. “Yes. I pretended to be unconscious to get in here. I hid the Caruson laz in the launch bay.” She glanced at the body on the floor. “But Rist probably has a weapon on him, as well.”
Ethan crouched beside the man and found he did have a weapon, strapped to his waist. When it was strapped to Ethan’s waist, he felt a lot better.
“Someone will be coming to look for this one soon,” Velda said, nodding toward Rist. “He’s Sylvester’s body guard and he was here to make sure the medic shackled me to the bed.”
“Who killed him?” Ethan asked. “You?”
She shook her head. “The medic. He’s gone, and the best thing for him, and us, is if we aren’t here when he comes back.”
She moved to the door, and it opened. She peered out cautiously, then waved to him to follow her.
He was still a little off, he realized. He hadn’t thought to ask why the medic would have killed Rist.
He had taken two laz hits simultaneously, and his body hadn’t liked it. Funny, he’d gone his whole life without ever being hit, and now, since the runner had gone down in the mountains, he’d had so many it was hard to count.
He trailed after Velda, the laz out of its holster and in his hand, his body feeling better and better with every step he took.
There was no one around on the short journey to the launch bay, and Velda waited for him by the doors.
“Ready?” she asked.
He was beyond ready.
She stepped in, and a man standing over an open box turned toward them, eyes only going wide when he realized who they were.
Ethan shot him.
“Can you hide him while I get the laz I hid?” Velda asked.
“Yes.” He moved over to the crew member, saw the box was full of food supplies, and dragged the body behind some stacks. He took a package of food out of the crate and was shoving it into a pocket when Velda came from the back of the bay with the Caruson laz in her hand.
“Where to now?” he asked.
“There is no safe place,” she said. “So we shoot everyone we see. Either we put them all in the runner and send it off the ship, or we hold them in a room.”
“Off the ship,” Ethan said. No question. He stopped trying to shove the too-big package of food into a pocket and handed it to Velda.
She opened it, handed him a nutrient bar, then took one herself.
“You’re looking too thin,” she said. She opened another two while they stood eating. Ethan reached for the second one, aware they were standing in the middle of the bay, with no cover.
Before he could suggest they move, the door opened, and Velda turned and shot the two guards that came through before they’d even lifted their own weapons.
He enjoyed watching her shoot them almost as much as if he’d shot them himself.
“Let’s put them in the runner,” she suggested.
He swallowed the last of the second bar and dusted off his hands. “Let’s.”
When all three were safely stacked side by side, he ate a third bar, drank some water from one of the bottles in the crate, and then eyed the bay door thoughtfully.
“You want to wait for them to come to us?” Velda asked.
“It’s a plan.” He thought it through. “It’ll do for one or two more groups, then they’ll start to realize something’s off.”
As he said it, the door opened again and another person walked in. Velda shot her, too.
“Milton,” she said, as she grabbed her ankles and dragged her over to the runner. “I think she’s head guard on the ship.”
While they were inside the runner, placing Milton next to her fellow crew, the launch bay door opened yet again.
Ethan crouched down, edged to the runner door and looked out.
Two people had come in, and they walked over to the open crate and then looked around, confused, as if wondering where everyone was. Before they could do anything else, he shot them in quick succession, pleased that he’d hit exactly where he meant to, both times.
Always, the voices in his head said.
“Five down.” Velda walked out, and began to pull one of the two up the ramp.
Ethan bent and lifted the other one, slung him over his shoulder and walked up behind her.
As well as being able to shoot more accurately, he was much stronger.
“How many more to go?” he wondered.
“There were six guards looking for me in here, plus the mechanic, plus Sylvester and Rist, plus Yarmouth, the medic. And Linao and the five guys still in the med bay. Plus the crew member we found unpacking the crate.”
“Fifteen. Fourteen,” he corrected himself. “Yarmouth took care of Rist. Do you recognize anyone other than Milton?”
Velda pointed to two of the guards. “I’m guessing there are more than ten more people out there.”
“Before I was shot, I walked through the lounge area. There were at least ten people in there, and the bridge was beyond. Plus there was an armory and people in there. I think we might be looking at a crew of twenty to thirty.”
That was a lot of people to find and shoot. Ethan looked at the neat line of people they’d already gotten in the ten minutes since they’d been in here.
Velda was standing beside him, calm, cool, and competent, and he pulled her in, kissed her, and she wound her arms around his neck and kissed him back.
Then she tucked her head under his chin and just held him. “I was so worried about you. When I had no choice but to let them find me, I pretended to be hurt, and they took me straight to you.”
“Why did the medic kill Rist?” he asked, suddenly remembering the question he had earlier.
“The silver balls persuaded him I need to be protected.” She shrugged, slightly embarrassed.
Well done, he thought, his hand brushing the back of her neck.
He felt a buzz under his fingertips, and a sense of happiness and pleasure.
“What now?” Velda asked.
“I think it’s time to rampage through the ship.”