Chapter 2
Twenty-two minutes later, we’ve reached the main building of the outpost. It’s not very large. Just room enough for a service desk in the main room, a command station, a lounge, a separate jail cell, and some weapons and supplies storage.
The guard is joined by another as we approach, and they corral us inside and into the command station, where I huddle against Ben in a corner.
Neither one of us is armed with a weapon because there was a risk of being searched. But we haven’t been searched. The rest of the unit stationed here—including the supervisor—is as unconcerned about our intentions as the initial guard.
The supervisor is an older man with an impressive mustache, and he tells us to wait where we are because he needs to finish the report he’s working on before he completes the paperwork necessary to deal with us.
The first guard comes over, meeting my eyes. “See? I told you it would be fine. Just wait here quietly, and he’ll take care of this without any fuss.”
“Okay.” I make my voice wobble. “Thank you so much.”
Ben is doing what he’s told but isn’t saying anything, which is the strategy we agreed on. If he reacts aggressively, they’ll up the force. If he behaves weak and spineless, they’ll be likely to bully him purely on principle. He needs to comply quietly so as not to trigger their macho instincts.
We wait in the corner for a few minutes. I’m plastered against Ben’s body, pressing my face against his shirt, and he’s got both arms around me protectively.
There are six guards in the room. Maybe one or two in the lounge on break. And there won’t be more than twelve in their stations on the perimeter, plus the two doing the patrols. Including the supervisor, that makes twenty-three.
We have a clear advantage in numbers. They have the advantage in position. A traditional attack, even with our numbers, might or might not have worked, and we’d have far more losses than is acceptable for a target of this size.
I’ve just checked the time when the sound of muffled gunshots comes from the south.
After a brief, urgent conversation on his radio, the supervisor stands up. “South post. All but Harris. Go now.”
Harris must be the guard who first found us on his patrol because all the others rush out to support the perimeter guards. He doesn’t look happy about being left out of the action. He paces back and forth from the door to the corner where Ben and I are still huddled.
“Is everything all right?” I ask after a minute in a quavering voice. “Are we under attack? Should we hide somewhere?”
Ben has dropped his arms from around me. He’s standing straighter and feels tenser. He’s ready.
So am I.
The supervisor shushes us. His back is toward us as he handles reports from the perimeter guards and gives them instructions.
Harris returns to our corner. “It will be all right,” he murmurs very softly. “We’ve got it under control. No need to be scared.”
He’s talking to me, basically ignoring Ben’s existence.
I whimper and sway toward him with a trembling smile. “Oh, thank you.”
Then I grab the gun he’s still holding, easily removing it from his relaxed grip and pointing it at him instead.
Harris is so shocked he stands speechless.
The supervisor hasn’t even noticed what’s happened. It takes no time for Ben to stride over, grabbing him from behind and cutting off his airway just long enough to knock him out without doing permanent brain damage.
Ben is the only person I’ve ever trusted to make that particular move.
“What the fuck—” Harris finally chokes out.
I’m still aiming his gun at him. After Ben lowers the supervisor’s body to the ground, he finds cuffs to put on Harris and the unconscious supervisor and drags them both into the one closet in the room. He closes and bars the door.
Handing Ben the gun, I use the supervisor’s radio, changing the channel so I can check in with our three teams.
Everything is going according to plan. Vella got grazed by a bullet when one of the guards on the south side had better aim in the dark than expected. But it’s nothing serious, and she and two others effectively diverted attention to the wrong side.
The other teams have taken out all the perimeter guards on the other side and are closing ranks to deal with those left on the south.
I nod toward Ben, who’s returned from checking the other rooms of the building.
“I rounded up the guys on break and put ’em in the jail cell,” he tells me. “So now we’re clear.”
I don’t relax yet since my people are still in danger, but there’s hope this mission will go as smoothly as we planned.
I know better than to think such things.
Tempt the universe, and it will always, always prove you wrong.
Ben is standing at the big window in the command station, peering into the dark to see as much of the action as possible, when the door to the command station gets kicked open.
A new guard, evidently having just arrived for duty to find the outpost under attack.
He takes in the situation faster than I would have expected. Before Ben has even turned all the way around, the guard is aiming his weapon.
At Ben. Ben.
I act without thinking, dropping the radio and throwing myself on the guard just in time to divert his aim from Ben.
The bullet fires harmlessly into a cabinet.
But the guard is twice as big as I am, and he throws me off him forcefully. I’m tossed a surprisingly long distance and fall in a painful heap on the floor.
Ben advances with a roar. He’s still holding the gun, so he could have simply shot the other man, but he doesn’t. He attacks, tackling the guard to the floor.
It happens too fast for me to identify specific moves, but when Ben gets up less than a minute later, the guard is disarmed and unconscious.
I shake my head at him as I heft myself back to my feet. Talk about an unnecessary waste of effort.
Ben’s eyes narrow as he glares at me.
He’s angry. With me.
I know why.
I don’t have time to deal with it at the moment because Vella is reporting in again. My ankle twisted under me when I hit the floor earlier. It hurts, and Ben is over there bristling.
But it’s done. Everything we needed to happen did. The other teams are heading toward us, having shot a few of the guards that wouldn’t surrender and rounded up all the others. Vella’s graze and my twisted ankle are the only injuries.
We’ve done it.
I’d be happier if Ben weren’t still mad at me.