Beyond the Shadows Page 5

  He purred.

  A hollow grinding echoed through the bay as the cargo ramp cracked open.

  “What’s out there?” she demanded. She needed to know what they were facing.

  “Spiders.” Cyn cocked his gun and fired the first shot into the void.

  4

  YARA FOUGHT HER TERROR AS NINE LARGE BOTS THE SIZE OF WOLVES PULLED their fat and dented bodies through the gap in the cargo ramp. Their glowing red optic sensors scanned the bay while scorpion-like tails whipped over their bodies. At the end of each tail a paralyzing shock charge glowed with an eerie light.

  “Aim for the eye, and don’t get stung,” Cyrus shouted as he fired three quick shots off the DEC. Two of the bots tumbled back toward the ramp, their bodies crashing in a cacophony of noise as they hit.

  The seven remaining bots hugged the edge of the bay, scurrying around the outer rim of the compartment. Four moved to the left as three shifted to the right to fill in the gaps in their loose arc. Yara fired at the one closest to the bulkhead door, but the blast dissolved into a sizzling web of fractured light spreading out in a dome in front of the metal creatures.

  “Shit.” Cyn threw his gun at one of the bots. “My DEC is out of charge and they’re shielded against blasters. We need to bash them.” He whipped two knives out of the bracers on his forearms and flung them through the air. The knives sank into the eyes of two different bots. Electricity shot out of the damaged scorpions as they collapsed on the deck in spasms, their legs flailing in the air like dying roaches.

  Yara turned just as a bot pulled his tail back to strike. “Cyrus, look out!” Yara shoved him to the side as she gripped her own knife and force-kicked. Her heel connected with the hard shell of the machine’s body. The tail swung dangerously close to her as it crashed back into another one.

  Yara ran to the fallen scorpion and twisted her body to lure the bot to strike. She felt her shoulders strain as she bent backward to avoid the stinger, while simultaneously grabbing the tail and guiding the jab into the eye of the other overturned bot. Yara leapt back toward Cyrus, the sting of the discharge searing into her legs as both bots froze in a net of webbed lightning before sparking out.

  “Bug! Reactivate the hatch locks,” Cyrus shouted at the security link in the corner. “Yara, cover me.”

  Cyrus yanked up a floor panel.

  The three remaining scorpions inched closer, stabbing their tails in the air. Yara could feel the numbing energy of the shock charges tingle over her skin. She gripped her knife tighter as Tuz leaned against the back of her calf. He hissed, the sound blending with the hum of the bots.

  In the corner of her eye, Yara spotted the handles she’d used to spar with Cyrus.

  “Tuz, handle.” Yara reached her hand down and Tuz curled his tail around her wrist. With all her strength, she whipped the cat straight up into the air.

  The motion distracted two of the bots, but the third struck at exactly that moment. Yara had to dive into Cyrus to prevent getting hit. He cursed at her then connected a conduit as Tuz landed on the far side of the room.

  The cat pounced on the metal pipe, knocking it across the cargo floor and through the spiderlike legs of one of the scorpions.

  Yara grabbed it, ducking under the glowing stinger as it flew over her head.

  “Got it,” Cyrus shouted as he kicked out, knocking three metallic legs off balance.

  Tuz ran around the bay, looking like a black streak of shadow as the bots tried to follow him. They couldn’t get a fix on her scout.

  Yara leapt in the air, spinning the bar over her head as she landed to the side of one of the bots. She brought the bar down on top of the optic in a smashing blow that shook the bones in her arms and shoulders.

  She didn’t have time to lose her breath or focus. Counting on her training for survival, she charged after the one chasing her scout.

  “Yara!” Cyrus shouted as a bot righted itself. She tossed him her knife, then gripped the very end of the pole and slashed it into the body of the creature ahead of her.

  The blow knocked the bot into the crates strapped to the bulkhead. She had to dodge to her right as its tail whipped back at her. Yara flipped the bar into her hands and used the end to crack the stinger, then jabbed the bar with all her force into the optic.

  She spared a glance back at Cyrus, just in time to see him sink her knife into the optic of the final bot.

  Just then a hole opened up in the sidewall to the left. Cyrus ran at her and pushed her inside. She tumbled backward and down, crashing onto a grate below her.

  “Shakt,” she shouted, clutching her bruised shoulder as Cyrus landed next to her. Tuz jumped through the gap just before it closed, landing on Cyrus’s head.

  “Damn it, get off,” he tried to grab her cat by the scruff, but Tuz sank his fangs into his hand.

  “Tuz, let go,” she commanded.

  Tuz growled and leapt down to her. The light from the open hatch went out, throwing them into complete darkness.

  Tuz activated his collar, illuminating the room in a pale blue light. Where were they? “What in the name of Fima the Merciless is going on?” she shouted.

  “Keep it down,” Cyrus ordered as he pressed his hand to a nasty scratch on his forehead. “Spiders are pirates, bloody opportunistic mercenaries. They send the bots in to paralyze any crew, then ransack the ship for anything they can sell, including people. They usually hit weak trade vessels too poor to travel by macrospace or defend themselves. They aren’t planning on us fighting back.”

  Yara looked around the cramped hole. They were in a protected pocket built into the side of the ship. Unlabeled shipping crates rose in tall stacks wedged between the solid frames of the ship.

  “With what?” Yara whispered. “I only have one sono, the DEC burned out, and we left all our knives up there.”

  Cyrus placed his fingertips on a lock, and opened the top of one of the crates. He pulled out two projectile rifles and tossed one to her. Yara nearly let the thing clatter to the grate. It felt hard and dirty in her hands. With a long barrel and the worn black casing of a highly efficient discharger, it was a weapon of deadly practicality, a cruel and bloody thing.

  “These are illegal.”

  “I don’t think Spiders are going to turn us in to the Union for breaking arms treaties.” Cyrus snapped an ammunition charge into the rifle. “Listen to me. They will kill us if we don’t get them to back off. Bloody them, and they’ll do a little profit analysis in their head. They don’t fight well as a group, and if the ones coming in think they won’t make it back out, they’ll go find an easier target.”

  “How many?” Yara asked as she gripped the rifle tighter.

  “I don’t know. If we can take out more than ten, we should be good.” Cyrus pointed above them. “Climb up to the top-load hatch on this side. I’ll be on the far side. That will get us above them, and we’ll catch them in our crossfire.”

  Yara saw him for the first time in a new and uncertain light.

  He wasn’t lying when he said he was smuggling illegal weapons. He was no honest or harmless trader. He had every intention of spilling a lot of blood to protect what was his.

  Her hands shook with the letdown of adrenaline and her dawning horror.

  “Do you know what they’re armed with?” she asked. She had to keep her head clear and rely on her training.

  “Anything you can buy on the shadow markets, which includes things a lot nastier than projectile weapons. We have to shoot first or we’re dead.” He held no apology in his hard expression. His dark eyes, made even darker by the deep shadows, turned as deadly as the rifle in his hands.

  Yara felt the chill slide down her back.

  Cyrus cocked his gun, the sharp click echoing through the dark. She watched the muscle in his jaw twitch as he reached back into the crate and pulled out several long knives. Their sharp blades gleamed in the dim light. “If one of us drops for some reason, stop shooting. The ricocheted projectiles are going to get nasty
. We’ll have to go in with these.”

  “That doesn’t sound like good odds,” she commented.

  “Don’t fall.”

  Yara tested the weight of a half-meter blade. It was as nasty and cruel a weapon as the projectile beside her. Blades injured. They cut and bled. And yet she had trained with them from the time she was three.

  But she had never used them in earnest until now.

  Without saying a word, he was pointing out her hypocrisy once again.

  She checked her sono. It was a cold, clean weapon. A guilt-free, no-mess solution. The end result was the same, and so it was no kinder.

  Blaster or knife, she had to come to terms with the idea that whoever was up there was going to kill her, if she didn’t kill them first.

  She arranged her grip on her sono so she could more easily fire.

  The freezing air seeped into her skin as she listened to the footsteps on the floor above them.

  Cyrus offered her a hand then pulled her in close. His warm breath caressed her cheek as he whispered in her ear.

  “Climb up the rungs between the stacked crates behind you. Take Tuz. When the hatches open, start firing. It needs to be a bloodbath, or they won’t retreat.” His fingertips brushed her hair, and she placed her hand on his chest for balance.

  She could feel the harsh ridge of his scar beneath the material of his shirt.

  “Yara?” he continued. She met his hardened gaze. “Don’t hesitate.”

  She nodded.

  With practiced stealth, she climbed up the rung ladder as he disappeared into the darkness. Tuz clung to her shoulder, his claws digging into the fabric of her shirt.

  Voices sounded muffled and tinny through the sidewalls. She didn’t understand the language, but the confused tone was unmistakable. Their prey would be wary.

  Would she have the strength to act?

  She thought about her old training partner, Cyani. Her rival beat her more times than not when they sparred, and for the first time, Yara realized why. Cyani knew what it was like to fight for her life.

  “Wherever you are, Cyani, thank you,” she whispered. She knew what to do. Cyani had shown her. Don’t hesitate.

  Yara reached the hatch and perched on the top of the stack of crates to her right. The hatch was large enough to push smaller top-load crates into the secret compartment. She’d be too exposed once it opened. Pressing her back as far as she could into the closest frame, she waited. Each noise echoed in her ears and made her heart stutter in her chest. She had never felt the rush of such stark terror. She fought to control herself, chanting training mantras over and over in her head.

  By Isa, my hands are swift. By Esana, my eyes are clear. By Fima, I have the will to strike and kill.

  She lifted her sono, ready to fire.

  The hatch doors released, clattering to the floor.

  Cyrus’s gunfire filled the bay, the staccato shots ricocheting off the sidewalls as they embedded themselves in the dirty group of men. The men scrambled, gathering weapons and looking up at the open hatches even as they shouted and fell, blood bursting from open projectile wounds.

  Yara focused, aimed, fired, repeating the pattern over and over. Some fell. She couldn’t tell how many she hit. They collapsed to the cold floor. She didn’t have the luxury to think. She had to wedge herself to the side of the open hatch and hold on for her life as a shock blast fired through the hatch, crashing into the fuselage behind her. The spent energy made her skin tingle and go numb, but she turned and fired into the fray below.

  Tuz leapt out of the hatch with a terrifying war-scream and landed on the head of one of the men. The man’s shout was cut short as Tuz’s thick tail wrapped around his neck, choking him.

  One of the pirates raised a blaster to her scout, and Yara fired on instinct. She missed. The pirate shot at Tuz, but her cat leapt just in time. She had to get him out of there.

  Yara held her breath and jumped.

  She landed on the ground, immediately swinging her blade. It cut across the back of the thigh of one of the men, as she fired her sono at the pirate rushing toward her.

  “Yara!” Cyrus shouted.

  She leapt and wielded the blade beneath her, feeling it connect with flesh again. Time seemed to slow, and her body felt heavy and weak as her muscles moved from instinct honed by years of repetitive motion and training. Her blade couldn’t swing fast enough. She couldn’t strike hard enough. The room sounded like it was filled with water, the only clear sound the constant drumming beat of her heart.

  She fired her sono again. In the corner of her eye she saw Cyrus drop into the thick of the crowd. He became a blur of deadly motion as his blade whipped through the air. “Bug!” he stabbed one of the pirates in the chest. “Initiate defense charges!”

  Sono blasts reverberated in the bay as Yara ducked. Tuz darted through the crowd, his claws and teeth sinking into the calves of the pirates, distracting them whenever they focused their wild eyes on her.

  She caught sight of one at the ramp. He started to enter, then turned around.

  “Cyrus,” she shouted. He turned and saw the pirate retreating, but one of the mudrats stabbed a blade into Cyrus’s thigh. He roared and swiftly cut through the man’s arm.

  Her distraction cost her. A ripping burn lanced into her shoulder, tearing her nerves as she watched a bright splash of blood fall to the floor. Her breath slammed out of her lungs as she fell forward onto her hands.

  Her vision blurred, but she rolled and fired at her attacker. She didn’t know what hit her but could feel her blood rushing down her arm.

  “Yara!” Cyrus shouted.

  She barely comprehended the fall of bodies or the smell of death as she fought back to her feet, grabbing her blade in her weak hand.

  Tuz screamed, the haunting sound distracting their attackers as more of the wounded crawled back through the gaping ramp.

  Cyn rushed forward, desperately grabbing one of the blasters off the floor. He fired, dropping any pirate still moving, as he fought to reach Yara. She tried to swing her blade, but her bloody arm fell back to her side.

  “Get the fuck off my ship!” he shouted, his rage burning as intensely as the pain in his thigh.

  He shot another one in the head. The pirate spun as he fell, flinging blood in an arc against the sidewall.

  The pirates threw their bloody bodies back through the open ramp, dragging several of their fallen with them.

  Good, less for him to clean up.

  “Bug, fire charges now,” he shouted. Bug’s affirmative whistle broke through the speakers in the security link.

  He couldn’t give them time to regroup.

  The emergency lights flickered, then dimmed, covering him in shadow.

  Cyn accessed the control panel at the back of the bay and secured the ramp.

  Blood soaked into his jeans, trickling down into his sock. He spared a quick glance at Yara. She swayed, but remained on her feet, kicking weapons away from the fallen.

  “Damn it, Bug, hit the charge.”

  A series of loud explosions rocked the ship, and the ship groaned as it peeled away from the clutches of the pirate’s docking link.

  “Jump us forward,” he ordered. Bug’s loud beeps rang through the speakers. “I don’t care what it takes, just do it. Yara, you okay?”

  She turned to him, her eyes glazed. The blast wound cut through her shoulder. It looked ugly, like some beast had chewed a chunk out of her muscle. Blood dripped off her limp fingertips onto the slick floor. He had to stop her bleeding before they both passed out.

  Pressing a hand to the wound on his thigh, he limped to her and lifted her good arm over his shoulder. She accepted his help without protest as he opened the bulkhead door to the living quarters and helped her to a bed.

  “We don’t know if they’re all dead,” she stated, closing her eyes briefly, then shaking her head and blinking as if trying to wake herself up.

  He wiped his thumb over her forehead, smearing a trickle o
f blood there. “Tuz will take care of them. Are you wounded anywhere else?”

  The ship shifted beneath his feet, and he nearly fell over. His limbs ached, his head screamed, and amidst all of it, a choking feeling clenched in his chest. He didn’t have time to wallow in ugly memories. He had work to do.

  Using every milligram of mental strength he had, he focused on the task at hand.

  “I’m okay,” she insisted.

  “That’s a load of shit.” With a knife, he sliced Yara’s shirt away from the gaping wound. The torn and singed muscle wouldn’t pull together and heal easily. He’d have to use a knitter. “This is bad.”

  He had to stop the bleeding fast. He threw open one of the lockers and swiped all the contents onto the floor. He found his med kit and tossed it onto the bunk, then opened one of the cases and pulled out a large jug of kiltii water.

  “Drink as much of this as you can,” he insisted as he pressed a bandage into her wound and then poured some of the water on it. He tied the bandage as tight as he could, then found his cup and filled it with the water.

  “Are we safe?” she asked before downing the glass of elixir and coughing. The jarring cough made her shoulder bleed worse.

  “Don’t know.” He inspected a cut at her hairline then let her wispy hair slide through his bloody fingers as he reached for his med instruments.

  He took a deep breath, then let his mind loose. Shifting through the waves of information flowing through his consciousness, he plucked out the relevant medical data on repairing flesh wounds, and brought it to the forefront of his mind.

  “Bug, are they following?” he asked.

  “Pip!”

  “Let out a cluster of mines just in case.” Cyn grabbed the med sterilizer. His leg throbbed.

  “The next time your cat decides to drop into a crowd of bloodthirsty pirates, could he at least be considerate enough to get hurt, too?” Cyn grumbled. He had to keep her focused on him. “At least there’s some good news.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I think your lag is gone.”

  She huffed, but the corner of her mouth twitched.

  He took a quick drink of the kiltii water himself and shuddered as a rush of heat poured through his body. The plant extract in the water healed injuries quickly, but not quickly enough if he couldn’t stop her bleeding.