Chapter 27

  We disappeared into the Red Desert. A day later we circled back to pick up the Techborn trail. Hammer was a decent tracker, and I’d been trained that way myself.

  Days passed as we rode through the unforgiving Red Desert. The sun beat down mercilessly, baking the sand into a shimmering hellscape. We pushed on for three days, trailing our enemy. An hour after dawn on the fourth morning, we crested a dune, and there it was—Arabella.

  The Techborn stronghold lay in a massive crater, the starship’s hull gleaming in the harsh sunlight. Wrecked or no, Arabella was still the seat of power on this craptastic planet.

  We didn’t dare cross the rim of the crater and ride down any closer. I pulled up a dirty strip of cloth, shielding my face from the blowing sand. The Techborn war party had returned to their ship, bragging to everyone inside about the ambush.

  Overlord Janson was in that big ship somewhere, protected by his lackeys. He was untouchable—for now.

  Hammer dismounted beside me, his eyes fixed on Arabella. “We need to get in there, Tanner. We need to make them pay for what they did.”

  “Yeah…”

  Hammer was a good man and a loyal friend, but subtlety wasn’t his strong suit. He started pacing around, kicking at the sand. “Maybe we could tunnel in, huh? That’s an idea! We might dig up right inside Janson’s bedroom. How about that?”

  “That’s… one plan.”

  “Or maybe… maybe we could set the whole place on fire! You know, smoke them out...”

  I let him ramble on. His plans became more and more absurd. A frontal assault was suicide. We needed to be smart. Needed to find a weakness.

  Finally, something hit me. I stood up, dusting off my pants. “Hammer, I’ve got an idea.”

  “Praise the sun!”

  “I’m going to walk up, real calm and collected. When you see me talk to the robots, go crazy and get them to chase you.”

  Hammer blinked. “Is that a good idea?”

  “It is, as long as you don’t get caught.”

  He thought it over and nodded. “Okay. Let’s do it!”

  I rode my walker up to the gates of Arabella like I was a Techborn noble. The ship’s hull loomed before me, its metal walls glinting in the sun. The robot guards stood there, dumb as rocks. I kept my face calm, my voice even. No need to spook them.

  “I’m here to see Overlord Janson,” I said. “Got some important information for him.”

  The robots transmitted this back and forth. They weren’t the smartest kind of robots. They were old, and they probably needed a software update. Nothing like that had come from Earth for decades. I could practically hear gears grinding in their metal skulls.

  Before they could make a response, a commotion erupted behind me.

  I turned to see Hammer racing towards us on his own walker, screaming like a madman. He waved his arms, taunting the guards.

  “Come and get me, you toaster-fuckers!” he yelled. “I’ll sell you for scrap!”

  The robots reacted instantly, their programming taking over. They charged after Hammer, their metal feet pounding the sand. I watched as they receded into the distance, Hammer’s taunts echoing back to me.

  It wasn’t the most subtle thing I’d ever done, but it worked. I slipped off my walker and left it there at the gate. Walking inside the big, shadowy ship, my steps were muffled by the chaos outside.

  The halls were a maze of gleaming metal and pulsing lights. I kept my head down and one hand on my buzzblade. Fortunately, there were lots of people inside that looked like me—farmers selling goods, slaves wearing torcs. I got a few strange looks, but the guards had let me through, so I wasn’t stopped in my tracks.

  I ducked into an alcove as a patrol of real human Techborn passed by. They seemed to be in a hurry. Had an alarm gone up?

  I held my breath until they were gone.

  My mind worked as I walked through the ship. I didn’t have all day. Sooner or later, someone would demand some ID, or ask me to state my business. I had to find Janson—fast.

  First off, I tried the direct approach. Baroness Callista had taken me to his lair once, and I remembered where that was. Climbing up several ramps, I soon reached a more heavily guarded zone. Hmm…

  I rounded a corner and froze. There, at the end of the hall, was a door—a big-ass one. It was made with reinforced steel. Standing guard in front of it were two of the biggest Tuskers I’d ever seen.

  Janson had to be behind that door. But walking up there and messing with those guards—that would be suicide.

  I retreated back around the corner. There had to be another way in. A vent, maybe. Or a maintenance hatch. Something they wouldn’t expect.

  Shit, I was starting to sound like Hammer. This assassination wasn’t going to be so easy.

  Retreating, I walked downstairs to the only other place in this ship I was intimately familiar with. I found Baroness Callista’s private chambers.

  Now, a suspicious person would think I had something else in mind—other than murder. That would be true. After all, the baroness and I had enjoyed each other’s company when I’d come here last.

  Fortunately, there was no guard mounted outside her apartments. One-Tusk was probably still in recovery.

  I tapped at the door, hoping it would recognize me as her property—that worked. The door was a smart-door, and it knew me. Apparently, she’d never bothered to update the software.

  Walking inside like I owned the place, I drew my buzzblade from its sheath. The room was dark and quiet, but I could feel her presence—and smell her perfume.

  I found her in the bedroom. She was standing by the window, reading something on a slip of plastic that served her as a computer. Her body was silhouetted by the desert landscape outside. Nice.

  She didn’t hear me approach until I was right on top of her.

  “Hello, Callista,” I whispered in her ear. Her hair puffed up at the touch of my breath.

  She spun around, her eyes wide. She was clearly shocked to see me. That was good. That probably meant I hadn’t been identified yet. This ship had crappy cameras or AI—probably both.

  My buzzblade came up level with her breasts. Her heart was under there, pumping like crazy. She froze.

  “Dane?” she whispered. “How did you get in here?”

  I smiled and moved closer. My eyes locked onto hers. “I didn’t get enough of you… last time.”

  Callista swallowed hard. I could see both fear and desire in her eyes.

  My hands found her waist and pulled her close. She didn’t resist. She did nothing to push me away.

  Our lips met in a fierce kiss. It was a desperate, hungry act. I could feel the heat of her body against mine. The softness of her skin.

  We tore at each other’s clothes, fumbling at catches and buttons. I dropped my knife—I wouldn’t need it, not right now.

  I lifted her up, carrying her to the bed. She wrapped her legs around me, urging me on.

  We made love with a ferocity I’d rarely known. It was raw, primal. Like animals in heat. She clawed at my back, her nails leaving bloody furrows. I bit at her neck, marking her as mine.

  We collapsed onto the bed, spent. Exhausted. I held her close, feeling the rise and fall of her breasts and the beat of her heart.

  This situation—it was unexpected and almost shocking. I’d realized I desired her, and she desired me, but I hadn’t really expected for both of us to lose our composure.

  I laid there with Callista draped across me like a satisfied cat. Her fingers traced lazy patterns on my chest. It felt good. Too good.

  Sitting up abruptly, I swung my legs over the side of the bed. Callista made a sound of protest, reaching for me. I ignored her, grabbing my pants off the floor.

  “Dane? What’s wrong? I still have two torcs left, you know. Either one of them would suit you. I’ll even let you choose the color.”

  I shook my head, pulling on my clothes. “This was a mistake.”

  She sat up, sheet falling away to reveal her perfect form. “Don’t say that. I captivated you, that’s all. Don’t feel ashamed. We both wanted this.”

  Snorting, I looked her over. “It was nice—but not why I came here tonight.”

  “Not for me?”

  “I came here for help...”

  Her eyes narrowed. “What kind of help? For what?”

  I lean in close, our faces inches apart. “Your code key. I need it.”

  She laughed. It was a sharp, mocking sound. She poked a long fingernail into my chest. “You really think I’d give that to you? Just because we fucked?”

  I grabbed her wrist, twisting it away—just shy of pain. “I think you’ll give it to me, because you don’t want Janson to find out about how you sent his son after me. You got that dumb kid killed.”

  Her face paled. “You wouldn’t…”

  “Try me.”

  We stared at each other. It was a battle of wills. Finally, she looked away. “Fine. It’s in the drawer.”

  I released her, crossing to the dresser. The key, a small metal cylinder, was right where she said. I pocketed it, feeling the weight against my thigh. It felt like winning.

  Callista watched me, eyes hooded. “What now? You just leave? I could call the guards. You’re still an escaped slave, you know.”

  “Right.” I grabbed a length of cord from her frilly curtains and advanced on her. “Can’t have that.”

  Her eyes widened as I looped the cord around her wrists, binding them tight. I stuffed a gag in her mouth before she could scream. She thrashed against the bonds, but it was no use. Strangely, she looked kind of turned on all over again. She squirmed against the cord.

  I had to give my head a shake. This girl was trouble. She had cast a spell over me from the start.

  “Sorry, Baroness. I have trust issues. I can’t have you raising the alarm.”

  I took one of the torcs she’d laid out for me—the red one. It made a nice decoration, but as there was no bomb attached, and I’d only tied it around my neck rather than clicking the buckle, it only served me as a disguise.

  Callista lay tied and helpless on the bed. My eyes lingered until the door clicked shut behind me, the lock engaging. I fingered the key in my pocket, and my eyes narrowed.

  It was time to pay Janson a visit.

  Moving through Arabella’s maze-like corridors, my boots echoed on the metal grates. The ship was a monstrosity, all gleaming steel and pulsing conduits. It felt like being inside the guts of some giant beast.

  The place was crawling with Techborn, naturally. There were guards on the upper levels, all armed to the teeth.

  At one point I passed a viewport. The red sands of Haven-7 stretched out to the horizon. That was freedom, right there. An easy escape.

  I didn’t have to do this. I could walk out of this ship and disappear. It would be so easy to just walk away, to leave this foolish quest behind. If I went back to the Preacher, he’d call XCU, and I’d get off this rock.

  That was the smart man’s play—and I knew it.

  Telling myself I was no chicken, I headed for the exit. There had to be a better time, a better way to reach Janson later on. Sure, I’d come in here full of piss and vinegar, with balls bigger than cantaloupes. But there was no way I could just waltz in and kill the Techborn leader—and I was even crazier if I thought I was walking out of here again.

  Leaving now and regrouping seemed like a much smarter play.

  When I reached the exit of Arabella, I knew freedom was just a few steps away.

  But then… I saw it. Hammer's body, strung up in the archway like a piece of meat. A warning. A message.

  They killed him. The Techborn had killed that lamer… my friend.

  It was my fault. I’d told him to cause a distraction, but he’d done it wrong, somehow. Maybe he’d fallen off his walker, or been shot by a Techborn patrol when they saw the robots chasing him. Who knew?

  The important part was he’d died because of me—because he was trying to help me.

  Shit.

  Turning around, I marched back into the back into Arabella. I couldn’t get Hammer killed then chicken out on the mission he’d died for.

  I stalked through the corridors again, heading upward. My buzzblade was hungry for blood—Techborn blood. I didn't care about stealth anymore. I didn't care about being quiet. My torc got me past various guards, and I made it up to the top again.

  There, as before, two monster Tuskers stood guard.

  I didn't screw around this time. I marched right up to them. I flicked on my vibrating knife, and when they reached for me, I took off two massive hands at the wrist. The first guy was looking in dumb-ass bewilderment at his fountaining stumps. He didn’t seem to be able to process what had happened to him.

  Ignoring him, I dealt with the second. He was forewarned, now. But he didn’t hit any gongs or blow any whistles. There was an alarm button not far from his left elbow—but this went untouched as well.

  That kind of moment—that’s when you need a guard with a brain. But this guy—he didn’t have that. He just seemed pissed and determined to take me out, to avenge his friend.

  Wary of my buzzing knife, he came in carefully. When he got close, he lunged. I let him have that—putting one hand on my wrist and the other around my neck.

  That’s when his belly opened up and disgorged an improbable volume of guts. I’d dropped my knife from my pinned hand and caught it with my other, free one.

  He was squeezing the life out of me by this time, making my world go dark as first the air to my lungs was cut off, then the blood from my beating heart to my brain faded away.

  I fought him, of course, slashing away at that slippery mess that was still coming out of his abdominal cavity and straining every neck muscle I’d exercised for years against this very moment—but it wasn’t enough. I blacked out.

  To my surprise, when I awakened, I found it was only moments later. I was on the floor, in a chunky pool of nastiness. The Tuskers had both succumbed to the horrible injuries I’d given them and quickly bled out.

  Fortunately, the Tusker who’d made it his final mission to throttle me, had relaxed in death. His huge hand was still on my windpipe, but it hadn’t closed it off completely.

  Gasping and pushing away the sinking mass of meat that was once two genetic monstrosities, I staggered up and took stock of things.

  There was no alarm up, and I wasn’t seriously injured—but it was only a matter of time until someone noticed these two piles of death.

  Callista’s key came out. With fumbling hands, I touched it to the lock on the door. A tone sounded—then nothing.

  Crap.

  I touched the key to the lock, again and again. No dice.

  “Callista?” a voice came through the door, out of a hidden speaker. “What do you want at this hour?”

  Again, I touched the key to the lock—still, nothing happened to let me in. All I was doing was marginally identifying myself past the appropriate time to visit someone.

  Maybe Janson didn’t trust that crazy bitch Callista anymore than any man should. Maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t an idiot.

  I heard an irritated sigh. “Very well, if you must—”

  The door buzzed open. I couldn’t believe it. He must not have checked his cameras.

  As I pressed my way inside the massive portal, I wondered if Callista had made previous midnight visits to see Janson before…? I wouldn’t put it past her. She was the sort that would.

  Janson came out, yawning and stretching. When he saw me, however, he froze and looked stunned instead. I was quite the sight, with my knife at the ready and all covered with Tusker guts and cold rage.

  Chapter 28

  Janson’s shock didn’t last long. His eyes flew wide, and he tried to run.

  He was too slow, and my vibrating blade slashed across his back, drawing blood. The first blood went to me in this contest—but I wanted more.

  Janson moved faster now that I’d given him some incentive. His hand darted to his wrist, activating something. A shimmering field sprang up around him.

  A personal shield? I didn’t know the Techborn had that sort of thing. Damn.

  I crashed into him, knocking us both to the floor. We grappled, rolling across the deck. I stabbed at him again and again, but the shield turned my blade each time. Janson snarled, lashing out with fists and feet. He was strong—stronger than he looked, anyway.

  We slammed into a wall, struggling. My blade locked against his shield. It was a stalemate.

  Janson glared at me, face twisted with rage.

  “You’re a dead man, slave,” he spat. “You’re just too stupid to know it yet.”

  I headbutted him in the face. My skull wasn’t metallic, so the field didn’t repel it. There was the distinctive crunch of breaking bone. Janson reeled back, blood streaming from his nose. The shield flickered.

  Pressing the attack, I threw fists at him with everything I had. The man was tough, I’d give him that, but he was bleeding now and falling back.

  But just as I was beginning to grin, thinking I had this fight in the bag, he pulled a move. The stumbling retreat was a ruse. He wasn’t staggering away from me in terror—not entirely. He was backpedaling until his hand found his own knife. He lifted it and began to advance, slashing at me.

  For the first time, I was at a disadvantage. My blade couldn’t get to him, only my fists. But he had a knife—and he knew how to use it, too.

  He saw the direction of my gaze, which was fixed on his blade.

  “Still thinking you can win, huh? You’re even more deluded than I thought. When will you Dusters learn? The Techborn will always rule over your kind.”

  “I’m not a Duster, genius.”

  Janson raised an eyebrow. “No? Then what are you?”

  I didn’t answer. It wouldn’t do me any good to tell him I was from Earth. Instead, I tried a new move.

  Charging straight at Janson, I caught him off guard. Slamming my shoulder into his chest, I sent him reeling back. I hadn’t really hurt him, but I’d bought myself a precious second to think as he climbed back to his feet.

  On a desert planet, nothing was more valuable than flowing water. Just to show off their wealth, the top of the Techborn hierarchy tended to have things like water fountains in their apartments.