Chapter 30

CHAPTER THIRTY

Gromm's remaining few scout ships came roaring back to the landing area, all of them moving with the haste that made their employer's wishes quite clear to anyone watching. Get back here, now! It was obvious what he had ordered without needing to have actually heard his command.

Margot wisely moved out of sight, staying well out of the way of the men now hurrying around the camp. As for the commanders of each team, they all headed straight for the mothership where a visibly agitated Gromm stood at the entry waiting for them.

Rylinn hurried ahead of them, rushing right up to the burly brute of a man.

"What do you think you're doing?" he blurted, his face reddening with agitation.

"Careful, Rylinn."

"Careful? You're blowing this whole operation. I can track it. You know I can. It'll just take a little more time, is all."

"We're done talking, Rylinn."

"No, we're not. There's a lot of money on the table, Gromm. And I?—"

Gromm grabbed him by the neck, his hand enormous even on the quite large man's throat. "You'd best think very carefully about whatever comes out of your mouth next, tracker . Remember who hired you. Whatever money is on the table , as you say, is mine, and I'll do with it as I please."

He released him with a little shove. All eyes watched in silence, wondering if this might explode into something more, but Rylinn bit his tongue, lowering his head in the slightest of bows.

"Of course. My apologies, Gromm. I got carried away in the heat of the hunt."

Even from a distance, Margot could see the veins in his neck distended with barely contained fury. But he knew his place. That, and he had clearly done the math. He couldn't win in a one-on-one fight, and there was no way for him to change Gromm's mind. The die was cast, whatever the plan was. All that remained now was to wait and see.

It wasn't long before the team commanders exited, each of them hustling off in a hurry to get their crews geared up and their ships ready for flight. Margot noted they were now pulling large crates from a storage tent and hauling them to the ships as well as their usual gear. They also had what looked almost like hazmat suits in bins being dragged aboard as well.

"What's going on?" she asked one of the men scurrying on a task.

He took one look at her, scoffed, and ignored her entirely.

"Oookay. Hey, you," she called to another. "What's the commotion?"

"Fuck off, bitch," he growled as he passed.

"Well, at least he said something, so I suppose that counts as an improvement."

She made a few more attempts, but each met with pretty much the same type of reply, and by the time the ships all took off a short while later, she was still entirely in the dark.

The ships accelerated hard, the air ringing out with their booms as they hurried off to whatever task they had at hand.

"You. Woman. Come help carry this!"

It was the cook. He was still an ornery son of a bitch, but he had use for an extra pair of hands, and hers were readily available. She hurried over and hefted the crate. It was heavy, but her new runes were stronger by the day, and where it would have been a lot of effort previously, she actually found it quite manageable now.

"Fucking madness," the cook grumbled as he picked up two boxes of rations in his sweaty arms. "Follow me. And don't drop that."

"You can count on me," she replied. "Will we be coming back for more?"

"Yes. The bastards took everyone . Even my prep cooks. Every able-bodied man save for a skeleton team staying here. It's unprofessional."

"You're right. They really left you in a bind. That's not fair at all."

"It isn't!" he agreed.

Margot felt a little surge of excitement. This was working.

"You know, they really should appreciate you more. You do so much for them, and they don't even show any gratitude."

"What do you know about that? You're just a prisoner."

"Well, yeah. But anyone can see how they look down on you. I know it's not my place to say, but I think they're assholes for not realizing all you do for them. I mean, your cooking? It's fantastic. And they just eat it and leave a mess for you to clean up. You know, I don't think I've ever heard even a single one of them say thank you."

He scowled at her, but she could see her words were having at least some effect on him. They'd never be buddies. Hell, he'd keep her for his own if he wasn't so scared of Gromm. But this tiny modicum of comfortable rapport just might loosen his lips.

"Why did they leave you behind?" she asked innocently. "Seems you'd be a valuable part of the team."

"Not for this I'm not."

"Oh?"

She wanted to ask more but knew she had to let him be the one to broach the subject. The seconds felt like hours, but she held her tongue, waiting.

"It's a fucking waste, if you ask me. Going out there and just carpet bombing the whole place. I mean, sure, they'll nail the thing, but it's just so damn crude. And, of course, they'll want me to be the one to cook up the blasted bits of whatever game they wipe out in the process. I've seen it before, and let me tell you, it's not pretty. I mean, have you ever tried pulling a thousand tiny bits of shrapnel from meat before you cooked it? No, of course not. No one has because no one hunts like that." He sighed, taking a deep breath, then another. "But Gromm gets what Gromm wants. And today he wants to be done with this world."

Margot's heart had nearly exploded out of her chest at the words carpet bombing but she somehow managed to keep her expression neutral. But inside? Inside she was screaming. She touched the band around her neck. It was keeping her trapped in this place, but she had to warn Braxxos. Somehow, she had to find some way to get to him before?—

The air rumbled as blast after blast boomed out from the distance.

Nooooo! her mind shrieked in wild distress, but the explosions kept coming.

"Sounds like they've started," the cook said. "Shouldn't take long now. I don't think they're doing too huge a campaign, but then what do I know? I'm just the damn cook who has to deal with their damn mess." He turned and stormed into his kitchen tent, pissed off at the hours of extra work this whole thing was going to dump on his shoulders.

Margot slumped to the ground hard, tears streaming down her face. No one said anything. No one was in the camp to even notice. They were out there bombing. Killing her mate.

She managed to pull herself together long enough to relocate to a spot out of sight and let her sobs flow, the intensity of her pain wracking her body, her heart breaking with anguish at the thought of him scared and alone as the bombs fell.

"Braxxos," she whispered, curling up in a ball. "My love."

She stayed like that for several hours. She'd have remained immobile even longer if not for the roar of the ships' engines as the teams returned, victorious and laughing as they departed their craft, each of them hauling their prizes.

Margot peered out from her hiding place and immediately vomited at the site. Dozens of carcasses, scorched, shattered, some mostly intact but the majority of them missing large chunks, were all laid out in several rows. And with them the bodies of a handful of man-shaped corpses, burned to a crisp. One was a little larger than the others.

The size Braxxos had been.

She felt her stomach churn but had nothing but bile left to vomit. Even that soon left her body as she heaved and cried and pounded the ground, stifling her screams.

Gromm kicked at a couple of hard remnants embedded in a few of the bodies, noting they still had the remains of armor sticking to them, making it clear that at least those had to be Dohrags.

The enemy troops were blown to bits despite their armor, cooked alive in an instant. Nothing could withstand that sort of bombardment, and they'd all died without getting off so much as a shot.

"So, good hunting?" Gromm asked as he surveyed the death before him, a satisfied grin on his face.

"It was utter carnage, Boss," one of the team leaders replied with a laugh. "Got all the Dohrags by surprise. Even took out their ship. Weren't a lot of them intact enough for a bounty, but we brought back what we could. Maybe someone with a grudge will pay for them. You never know."

"Stranger things have happened," Gromm replied with a chuckle. "And if not, we dump them in space. And what of the rest? What of the escapees? We have bounties to collect.

" Hunting was good. The blast drove a few out of the woods and our guys snatched them up as they ran. And as for animals, well, you can see, we've got enough fresh meat to last us a long, long time. Once Cookie cleans them up, of course."

"I can see that, but what of the other hunting. What about the one I really want?"

The man shifted uncomfortably on his feet, unaware that their target was not only beast-sized, but also man-sized.

"We didn't see it."

Gromm's veins began to become more prominent, but he held his temper. For the moment, at least.

"What do you mean you didn't see it? Are you saying I just wasted a small fortune in explosives for nothing?"

"No, no. Not at all, Boss. It's just, we found some of the bounties dead out there—and we brought them back too. I know dead isn't nearly as much as alive, but waste not want not, right? Anyway, there was so much just blown to pieces we weren't able to find a corpse for you. I'm sorry, but just rest assured, there's no way anything could have survived that barrage. No way."

Gromm took a deep breath, flexing and releasing his giant fists. His underling stood stock-still, barely inhaling as he silently waited for whatever might come next. Gromm let out a sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly, his hands relaxing.

"Damn," he muttered. "Damn, damn, damn. What a fucking waste." He turned and surveyed the encampment. "Listen up, you lot!" he bellowed, the entire place going pin-drop silent in an instant. "We are done here. I don't know about you, but I've had enough of this world. It's time to leave this rock and cash in our bounties."

The men let out a cheer, but Gromm held up his hand, demanding silence.

"You all fought hard, and I'm proud of the work you did. And, I see you have brought in quite a haul of local game." He swung his arm, gesturing toward the mountain of mutilated beasts. "And, as you have so kindly provided the meal and saved me the cost of feeding you lot, I feel you have earned a celebration. Tonight we feast!"

Now the men truly cheered, loud and sustained. A few even started chanting Gromm's name, but their companions quickly smacked them silent. Gromm enjoyed being the boss, but he did not like suck-ups.

"And, as a gesture of my appreciation, extra booze rations for all!"

Again, the men roared with delight. What they didn't realize was Gromm had already calculated how much additional alcohol he had now that he'd lost so many of his men. Those were lackeys he no longer had to pay, which was a boon, but also less mouths to feed and ply with morale-boosting alcohol. Extra rations he would now give to the others. It was already paid for, after all. And the good-will bought from distributing it rather than keeping it for his next mission bought was well worth it.

"All right. Cooking team, get to it," he called to the kitchen staff. "You've got your work cut out for you and a lot of hungry mouths to feed. Enjoy, my men. You deserve it."