Chapter 29
Mace shook, his eyes roving over Nia. He noted a laser burn on her arm, but otherwise she seemed unscathed. He strove to get his emotions under control.
She’d slumped on the deck where she’d fallen, her face pale with shock, eyes glazed, and stared at his hand like she didn’t know what to do with it. Her gaze slid to the dead defenders behind him.
“Nia.” He kept his voice gentle, but her body jerked anyway, eyes widening, as if seeing him for the first time. “We’ve got to go.” And they had to hurry. Any living Tellusians were leaving the station in the last of the evacuation transports right this minute.
It was tempting to stay and fight, to try and regain control instead of evacuating. Even with their communications impeded, he knew Cache would have thought the same thing. To have her order a full evacuation meant the battle was lost before it had begun. The CORE had timed it so there were no Destroyers nearby. There was at least one traitor on Orion who’d facilitated it all.
“Nia.” This time his voice held more force, and she reached out. Mace pulled her trembling body against him for a quick squeeze. Taking her hand, he retraced his steps past the two defenders whose throats he’d slit. Nia inhaled sharply. Their helmets had disengaged, the man and woman staring unseeingly at the overhead with their blood puddling on the deck.
So he’d cut a little deeper than necessary. They’d sealed their fates when they’d aimed their weapons at Nia. She’d almost died.
Mace gripped her hand tight as they hurried down the corridor, Mace focusing on the dangers ahead, but aware of the woman beside him.
When the defenders had swarmed the atrium, he and the tyros almost hadn’t made it out of there. Both tyros and warriors had been injured, but they hadn’t lost anyone in their escape. It wasn’t until they’d gotten to the evacuation zone Mace had a moment to contact Elec again.
And he hadn’t received a response.
Terror clenching his chest, he’d followed Nia’s tag to deck twenty-four. When he’d seen those defenders aiming at her…he must have aged a decade.
“What happened to Elec?” he asked quietly, tugging her along, but keeping his senses open. When Nia didn’t answer, he cast her a quick glance. She shook her head, all color leached from her face.
Fuck.He didn’t have time to grieve for the young warrior, because a flash on his vambrace indicated movement ahead. The place was crawling with defenders. He pressed his back to the bulkhead, Nia doing the same beside him. They waited. He couldn’t take on a large group of defenders and keep her safe at the same time.
He looked down at her bent head. She gripped his hand tight, knuckles white. When the corridor cleared, he pulled her along, then stopped again at the next one over. There were at least two defenders blocking their way, protecting a key junction. Mace ushered Nia to the side, thinking.
Shit. He was going to have to leave her alone for a minute or else they were fucked.
He bent to her level. “Stay here,” he said, then because he couldn’t resist, he pressed his lips to hers. Life returned to her eyes when he pulled away, a flush gathering in her cheeks. Mace nodded. Better.
He didn’t bother with his gun. He hadn’t been able to crack the autonomous shielding frequency of the defenders’ uniforms yet. A quick peek revealed their attention in the other direction. His jamming signal was still working.
He darted out. The one turned, saw him coming, and aimed. Mace threw his knife, the blade sinking into the sweet spot at his throat between his helmet and the top of his uniform. The other defender got a shot off, grazing his shoulder, but Mace kept running. He barreled into the woman and sliced her throat on the way down.
Mace stood and caught his breath. A strangled sound came from Nia at the end of the corridor. He didn’t have time to do this gently, to shield her from battle. He knew she’d seen thousands of wounds, but it didn’t mean she had much experience on the front lines, seeing war as it happened. He turned to calm her and froze.
A defender had her in front of him, a knife to her throat. It had already pricked her skin, a drop of blood running down her neck.
“This yours?” the defender asked, his helmet disguising his face and voice. Coward.
“Drop your weapons,” the defender ordered, keeping Nia in front of him.
Mace nearly laughed out loud. It would take ten minutes to remove them all.
“Drop the knife!” the defender shouted.
Mace didn’t have an opening. He spread his arms wide, the bloody knife on the tips of fingers about to fall. The defender stepped from behind Nia to aim, and Mace shifted, flicking the knife into his palm, turning and throwing it as the heat of the laser singed the hair by his ear. His knife landed true, between two ribs.
Mace ran toward Nia. Her body shook as the dying defender squirmed and tried to grab hold of her ankle. Her blank eyes stared straight ahead.
On one knee, Mace slit the defender’s throat to finish him, glad the man had been in pain at least those short seconds before death. The bastard made Nia bleed.
Mace stood and took a quick look at her wound. Superficial. He grabbed hold of her hand.
“You’ve been shot.” Nia’s voice sounded hollow.
Mace glanced at his shoulder. A gouge only, in almost the exact place she had hers. The burn of the laser stopped most of the blood loss.
“No time.” Those shots would bring more defenders. “We’ve got to go.”
Nia’s cold hand felt small in Mace’s much warmer one. She took strength from him and let it ease the tremors in her body.
They passed the bodies of the two defenders, and Nia averted her gaze. It wasn’t their deaths making her reel. It was her lack of emotion at having witnessed them. She felt nothing. No guilt or disgust. Not even remorse for lacking the emotions. She couldn’t allow herself to feel or she’d lose the little calm she’d regained with Mace’s presence.
She followed behind him, focusing on his back and the way he silently moved ahead of her. They passed more bodies, both Tellusian and CORE, all with fatal wounds and vacant stares, their blood pooling on the deck.
Nia swallowed. People are dead because of me. If she allowed the truth to settle in her soul, she knew she would start screaming and never stop. She forced herself to focus on staying alive. Her fingers squeezed Mace’s. He gave her a quick glance and returned the gesture. It was enough to settle her stomach.
Quiet filled the corridors and Nia kept looking behind them, expecting more defenders. When Mace stopped, she almost barreled into his back. He pressed his hand against a control panel next to a wide door and it slid open.
They were in a bay filled with empty landing pads, only a handful of ships remaining in the otherwise deserted space. Mace led her to a ship similar in size to a Raven. It sat angled on a platform, and Mace pushed her up the ramp to help her in.
Nia used the railing for leverage until she’d reached the cockpit, sliding into the co-pilot’s seat. The scent of newly washed metal composite filled her head. Every surface gleamed. Mace sat beside her and touched the controls. The ramp whined closed, and the vessel’s engines hummed. Mace buckled himself in and Nia followed suit.
Shields rippled around them. Mace gripped the controls. The ship lurched forward, and Nia’s head snapped back. They shot out into space.
Right toward two Guardians.
Stomach plummeting into her toes, she gripped the arms of her seat until it felt like her fingernails would break off. Weapons fire streaked red and orange against the black of space as fighters, and other combat vessels flew in some type of preordained chaos. A huge portion of the mines were missing where they’d been thick on her arrival, the two Guardians occupying the resulting space.
Laser fire came right toward them, and she flinched at each shot, the shields rippling from the contact. Mace veered out of the path of a Condor at the last second. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath.
The panel flashed a warning in front of him, but Mace kept heading toward the Guardians.
“What are you doing?” Nia asked. The warships grew in size as they neared. They should be trying to get away, not heading to their deaths.
“It’s the only way out. We don’t control the mines anymore.”
Nia tried to swallow around the dryness in her mouth. They were so close to the one Guardian she could see the individual windows on the port side. “But what about the—” A loud thunk cut her off. “—grappling hooks?” she finished. The magnetic grappling hook punched through their shielding.
“A little too close.” He had the nerve to sound unconcerned.
Their trajectory abruptly changed, throwing Nia’s nauseous stomach into her throat. Bile coated her tongue.
When they were captured, Mace would be executed as a Tellusian terrorist. No. She couldn’t accept it. There had to be a way out.
Mace unbuckled his restraints first, then hers. He stood, tugging Nia to her feet. The cabin darkened as they were pulled into the mouth of the hangar. He took his gun out of its holster, changed the settings, and pressed her clammy hands on the stock. He forced her to aim the weapon at his stomach.
“Shoot me,” he demanded.
Nia dropped the gun. “What?”
Two more low thunks echoed through the ship as stabilizer cables connected with the outer hull.
He snatched the gun, shoving it at her again. “Shoot me. It’s the only way we can play this. Like you’re trying to escape.”
Nia backed away, refusing to grab hold. The cabin brightened as they entered the hangar. “I can’t shoot you.” More bile rose in her throat.
Defenders hurried around the ship as they were taken further and further into the Guardian’s belly.
“Shoot me, goddamn it!” he yelled, forcing her finger on the trigger.
“No,” she whispered a second before the ship lurched and hit the deck. Nia fumbled, the gun pressed between them. A shot went off and he crumpled.
What had she done? Nia couldn’t move as the ramp of the shuttle was forcibly lowered from the outside. Her gaze remained fixed on Mace’s inert body. So lifeless.
Lights flashed in her face from the defenders’ weapons as they swarmed the ramp. They screamed at her, but her head was in a fog, and she didn’t understand the words.
“Drop your weapon!” One voice broke through her haze.
She jerked, not realizing she still held the thing, and let go like it was an infectious disease. She placed her hands on her head.
Her eyes shifted to Mace. Was he okay? He was so still.
Through the yelling, she heard a voice demanding she identify herself.
That she could do.
“Surgeon Lieutenant Colonel, Euphenia Jannex, Elara Five, ID number 435801.”
She squinted against the lights in her face, heart pounding. Mace’s weapon had been set to stun, right? He wouldn’t have made her really shoot him, would he? She couldn’t see any blood, but he lay face down and could be hiding a true wound.
A defender stepped forward, blocking her view of everything except the width of his chest in his silver uniform. She looked up. Her blood-splattered face reflected off the defender’s visor. He grabbed her wrist.
Unadulterated panic bubbled in her chest. She rolled her eyes into the back of her head, imitating the loss of consciousness as best she could. Fewer questions to answer.
Nia fell, not expecting the defender to let go. When she bashed her head against the side bench of the ship, stars exploding behind her eyelids, she hoped to hell the performance had been worth it.