“That’s enough chatter,” the Ithtorian cut in.
Brahm took the lead from there, signaling with a clawed hand for the others to fall in behind him. It took a while, but they searched the Warren completely. Though the place had obviously been ransacked, and there were dead bodies scattered from the failed defense, they were too late. No mercs. Ali slammed a massive fist into the wall and hung her head.
“I’m sorry. It seems we were too slow.”
“Perhaps not,” Tam said. “We’ll help you deal with your dead, then I’ll tell you what I have in mind.”
“That would be greatly appreciated,” Brahm answered.
Dred nodded. “You can’t just leave them. I know you’d probably prefer to have a service, but—”
“No, it’s enough not to leave them where they fell,” Ali said softly.
It was backbreaking because the corpses had to be hauled up two levels to the nearest recycler, and a few of them were too big for anyone but Ali to manage. From her body language, Jael guessed she had been close to one of the fallen Rodeisians, but she didn’t say a word from the moment she slung his body over her shoulder until Jael helped her push him down the chute. To make matters worse, it was a tight fit, and they had to shove, breaking bones in the process.
She pressed both palms against the chute door after it closed, then she whispered, “Good-bye, my love.” Her grief and sorrow were palpable.
Jael had no idea what to say to her, and it was bewildering even to contemplate what words might be right for the occasion. In the end, he simply followed her down to get the rest of the bodies. Afterward, Tam laid out his plan, using dust from a little-used passage to sketch in the particulars. Brahm and Ali agreed at once while Dred looked thoughtful.
“What’s the goal here, Tam? Revenge, carnage, or equipment?”
Jael nodded at Dred, indicating he wondered the same thing.
“Why does it have to be mutually exclusive?” Brahm asked.
“If we’re fighting to kill, we’ll go into the battle differently than if we’re planning a snatch and grab,” Jael answered.
And the Ithtorian acknowledged the truth of that with an inclination of his head.
“I want them all dead,” Tam said quietly. “It’s the only solution that will serve. But we don’t have the firepower to kill ten armored mercs with two rifles between the six of us.”
“So this is a robbery,” Ali said.
Jael had once known a Rodeisian female fairly well; she had been mated to a merc he called a friend. Despite their size, Rodeisians were typically calm and gentle unless you hurt their loved ones. And then there was no shelter from their wrath. So he was surprised to read bitterness and not rage in the twist of her generous mouth.
“Is that a problem?” Martine asked.
Ali shook her head, sorrow in her glittering eyes. “I was just thinking that it’s ironic. It took sending me to prison and murdering my mate to turn me into a criminal.”
15
Baiting the Trap
“This thing is sodding huge,” Martine bitched.
It had taken them hours to haul the gear up from the sublevel. Dred expected one of the men to respond with the obvious joke, but they were all focused on heaving the girder into place. The lattice of tension wires didn’t look strong enough hold the contraption, but Brahm was monitoring the process, and he seemed to have an engineering background. Ali heaved, shouldering the front of the metal beam as Jael shoved.
“Can’t do it with two of us,” he grunted.
Dred stepped underneath; Tam, Martine, and Brahm followed, but she didn’t feel much of a difference. If we had couple more like Jael and Ali, this should work.
With a moan that sounded as if she’d ruptured something, the Rodeisian lowered her end of the metal beam. “Need a break. I think we have to try this another way.”
“I can build a harness,” Brahm said. “It’ll take longer. Tam, can you scout and give me an idea how much time we have until they get here?”
“Certainly. I can extrapolate based on the numerical mean of their patrol times.” The spymaster took off, running lightly along the footbridge.
This cavernous space gave Dred the creeps. The common room was the largest place she was used to, and she could do without the long drop, too. She spun in a slow circle as Brahm muttered over the supplies. Then he tapped Ali’s arm with his talons, and she went to work with him, weaving scraps together, presumably to construct the harness he’d mentioned. As they worked, Dred developed an idea how the thing would work once it was finished.
“What can I do?” she asked the Ithtorian.
“See if you can find some rope.”
That might be easier said than done, but she moved toward the other side of the footbridge. Jael strolled after her, and she turned with a quirk of one brow. “You don’t think I can find salvage on my own?”
“It’s better with company, love. Plus, I’m a professional, you know.”
“You mean because you gave up being a merc to work salvage?”
“Who says you don’t listen?”
“Not you.” She flashed him half a smile as she strode into the offices. Hairline cracks threaded the glastique that had once shielded the managerial portion of the station from the industrial part. The lights were almost entirely broken, shards of glass crunching underfoot like the discarded husks of long-dead insects. A foul smell permeated the room—blood, sweat, urine, and dust. She climbed across an overturned desk and reached a hand back to help Jael. He took it with a bemused expression.
It’s like he doesn’t believe in . . . this, whatever it is. But it’s not going away.
“You think we’ll find anything in here?”
She was dubious. Rope was something they’d most likely find in the repair bays, but that was too long a trek. There was no way she and Jael would be back before the patrol arrived. “Maybe not rope, but something similar. Cables or cords we can loop together?”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Dred rummaged while Jael did the same across the way. She tried to be quiet, but the broken furniture made it tough. Occasionally, Jael swore softly as he ran into obstacles; she gave him a hand in pulling the junk out of the doorway. After scrutinizing each piece, she sorted them into piles: broken and worthless versus Ike might be able to do something with this gizmo.
Jael tilted his head. “Always thinking ahead, hey?”
“Can’t do otherwise, can I, pretty lad?” But her tone was soft, making an endearment of what had first been mockery.
“Hurry up!” Brahm shouted. “Tam says we’ve got ten minutes to put this together.”
THE trap was finished.
Based on what Brahm had told him about patrol routes, Tam had picked the perfect place to set it up. The station was divided, and the industrial side was separated from cleaner, corporate offices by a footbridge that connected the two hemispheres, and it was a long drop to the repair bays below. Mungo had laid claim to the offices, but once he trashed them, he evidently decided they were too small to be worthy of his empire, so he’d moved on, leaving the rooms reeking of blood, feces, and urine. That miasma didn’t improve after festering, either. So now nobody came through there.
But the mercs don’t know that. Now Tam just needed to bait them. Everyone else knew to stay out of sight until the squad committed.
The armor felt heavy; he wasn’t used to it. Hopefully, if the mercs noticed any damage from a distance, they’d assume it came from the firefight that killed their mate. Up close, it wouldn’t pass inspection, but Ike had patched it together enough that when the merc unit spotted a fallen comrade on the walkway, they’d investigate. Since this trap relied on muscle and not hidden wires, the mercs could inspect the area before approaching; it didn’t matter if they came in slow and cautious, only that they made the approach. Tam glanced up at the other five perched on the level above. Without Ali’s strength, this wouldn’t work, though Jael seemed to be holding up his end.