Chapter 15

FIFTEEN

" B ravo-Two, what's your position?"

Behind the wires and pipes that camouflaged the bulkheads of the service corridor on this deck, Zed froze. His right leg was starting to cramp from the awkward position he'd jammed it into, and his left foot—the injured one—ached from holding most of his weight for the past five minutes. The patrol lingered in the main corridor that ran parallel to the smaller one housing circuitry and cables. He'd hoped they'd been heading out, but the voice over the comm had halted their progress out of the section. Through the maze of wires that blocked most of Zed's view, he spotted movement—one of the marines keying his combat wallet to reply.

"Just finishing our sweep of aft deck zero-three, sir." The marine shot a grimace at his partner and continued. "No contact, sir. I repeat, no contact."

"Bravo-Two, can you explain to me how a single man has managed to evade your patrols for more than a day?"

"No sir."

"He's injured, dehydrated and hungry. He has not been an active duty soldier for nearly a year. And yet, he's outsmarting every single one of your men."

"Yes, sir."

Zed smirked at the marine's growling tone.

"It's unacceptable. Return to command," the voice barked.

"Copy, sir."

Zed held himself still as the marines marched down the corridor and out of sight. He waited, counting off the seconds, before forcing himself out of his hiding place. The wires and pipes scraped his skin and tugged at his new piercings. He grimaced, but he'd already anticipated the payment for the tight fit. His grimace deepened as he heard the familiar and unwelcome sound of fabric tearing.

"Shit." Free from the wall, he looked down at his thin shirt. Any smart fibers embedded in the fabric had wilted and died. In addition to the grime and oil he'd picked up in the service tunnels and the various creative—and small—hiding spaces he'd visited, it now sported a wide gash to the left of his abs. That was going to be a pain in the ass in the next tight space.

Zed shrugged off the shirt and stuffed it behind the wires he'd just emerged from. A stray draft of air brushed his bare skin and he shuddered, but going without the shirt was a better idea than risking it getting caught and tearing more at the wrong moment. Wasn't as if it provided much protection from the chill of the lower decks, anyway. Idly, he flicked one of his nipple piercings. They still hurt—but they damn well would hurt more if he managed to yank out one of the barbells.

Fuck it. He wasn't taking them out until Flick had a chance to see them.

"I'm clear," he whispered to his cuff.

Ryan's voice sounded loud in the quiet corridor. "Did you avoid the patrol?"

"Yeah, man. Thanks for the heads-up." Zed smiled, even though Ryan couldn't see it. He could've managed this cat-and-mouse business on his own, but it was so much better to have company—even if it was only a disembodied voice. "The plan is still a go? Am I good to head for the medical wing?"

"Yep. The Chaos is closing in and I'm not detecting any major obstacles between you and the target. I'll let you know if that changes."

He couldn't let himself get excited about the thought that the Chaos was nearby, or would be soon. He had only so much energy and he had a job that needed to be his focus. After crawling and hiding for going on a day and a half—thirty-three hours—he felt like shit, but he had to keep going. Kinley was counting on him, even if she didn't know it yet.

Darting down the dimly lit service corridor, Zed kept all his senses attuned to his surroundings. The hum of the ship's engines, paired with the power coursing through its metallic veins, permeated everything. Vibrations skittered upward from the deck, through the unprotected soles of his feet into the bones of his legs. It didn't resemble the Chaos at all; the little ship hummed, but at a gentler frequency, one that only spiked just before or after a jump into j-space. In comparison, the Cambridge 's voice was too loud, too omnipresent. In the brief moments of sleep he'd managed to snatch, it invaded his dreams. He hated it.

He swallowed, trying to work some moisture into his throat. The dryness of his mouth and the pain radiating out from his foot had been constant companions. In between crawling and hiding, he'd raided a couple of cabins, grabbing some painkillers, water and a couple of protein bars. Enough to keep him going, not enough to make him happy about it.

Pausing at the end of the service corridor, Zed eyed the hatch across the main hall that headed up-ship. Four meters sternward, another corridor crossed the main one. From the service corridor, Zed couldn't see if any marines lurked at the junction. They'd all headed back to command, though—his window to move should still be good.

He ran across the corridor, his bare feet all but soundless on the metal. His hands latched on to the ladder heading up and he pulled himself up two rungs before swiping his right hand at the hatch. His Guardian cuff flashed and the hatch popped open obediently. He ducked through and limped in the direction Ryan told him to go without acknowledging the commands verbally.

The medical wing was not going to be easy to infiltrate. He and Ryan had discussed crew rotations briefly, so he knew how many soldiers, doctors and nurses to expect. If their plan unfolded as expected, a chunk of the medical staff would be racing to an emergency two decks and a whole ship away. That would still leave at least half a dozen people to avoid or take out. Couldn't be helped.

Zed hovered in an access shaft, adrenaline starting to pump through him. "Ready?" he whispered.

"Steady," Ryan replied, nudging a smile to Zed's lips. Just like the Academy.

"Go," he said.

"Booyah!"

Alarms and announcements clanged through the corridors. Zed picked out the important keywords—nature of the emergency, deck it was on. Feet thundered on the deck plates, shouts reverberated off the walls. Before things quieted down too much, he darted out from the maintenance area.

No point in trying to hide. Nothing offered cover and anyone who spotted him would know he didn't belong. The first obstacle came at a T-junction. A white-coated doctor rounded the corner and slammed into Zed—an accident. Zed didn't grab for the Zone, unsure whether the dosage of stin poison had fucked it up, but he didn't need the altered state of consciousness to deal with the doc. His hand whipped out, catching the man on the temple, and he crumpled to the floor.

"Green," Ryan murmured in his head, their agreed-upon code for whether or not the op was still running smoothly.

An elbow to a jaw took out another guy in scrubs. A woman jumped on his back before her colleague thudded to the floor and Zed spun, slamming her into the wall. He jerked his head back, hard, uncomfortably satisfied when he heard and felt the crack of bone on cartilage. She went limp and he stepped away, unsurprised when she tumbled to the floor.

"Yellow."

Shit. Zed jumped forward, hissing at the extra pressure and weight on his injured foot. Clenching his jaw, he limped quickly toward the room containing Kinley. A wave of his Guardian cuff sent the door retreating into the wall with a whisper. Zed stumbled over the threshold and stuttered to a stop.

Kinley sat in a chair, staring at the door. No, staring at nothing. She looked the same as he remembered—her ebony skin, gorgeous high cheekbones and wide-set eyes the color of autumn leaves more suited to modeling or acting than a soldier's rough life—but the light in her eyes, the spark of her intelligence and wit, was gone.

"Kinley," he said, not expecting a response. He didn't get one. She didn't blink. Her eyes never flickered. If Kinley was ever present anymore, it was infrequently at best.

Zed blew out a breath. He'd hoped she'd be able to walk, at least. Maybe he could encourage her to move? Bending down beside her, he scooped one of her arms over his shoulders. She stood when he did, not quite a dead weight. When he took a step forward, her feet dragged, but on a second step, they held her up.

Better than nothing.

"Okay, Kinley, we're out of here."

"Red. Shit. Zed—they figured—damn it, they weren't supposed to find—smartass doctors—fuck."

"Take a breath, Ryan."

"Don't tell me to take a breath. Fucking covert ops," Ryan muttered. It sounded like a curse he said often. "Look, they're coming back."

Zed hobbled out of the door. Kinley helped with maybe every third step. If they got cornered now, he'd have to let her go to fight—and that would leave both of them vulnerable. Evasion was the best bet. "How long?"

"Not—Christ, not long. They're—okay, you know what? No. Just no."

The tone in Ryan's voice made Zed's heart skip. "Ryan, don't?—"

Bulkhead doors slammed shut behind Zed. Alarms blared, a different cadence than the ones Ryan had triggered earlier to signal a medical emergency. These ones indicated that the ship was under attack. Zed's eyes widened as the implications of Ryan's actions set in.

"Fuck, what did you do?"

"You're getting out. You and Kinley. You've got a clear shot to the shuttle bay. Quadrant EC76. I've got the bridge and other areas locked down." Ryan chuckled grimly.

Oh, God. "They're going to trace this back to you. Charge you with treason."

"Just get to a shuttle. The Chaos is out there, waiting." He made a sharp noise as Zed drew in a breath to continue the argument. "Stop. You're wasting time, Major. You've got a mission and so do I."

The woman braced beside him wasn't a friend—not the way Emma had been or Ryan was, buddies since childhood—but she'd been a teammate. Someone he'd made promises to, the same promises he'd made Emma and the rest of the team. The ones he'd promptly broken. Kinley deserved more than this end. He hefted her weight, securing her against his side, and started in the direction of the lift that would take them to the shuttle bay.

"Make them fight for it," Zed growled.

"You know it." The breath Ryan exhaled sounded shaky, but his voice was sure. "Follow the pulsing lights. Your route is clear. If that changes, I'll let you know."

With every corner Zed turned, he expected to come face-to-face with a squad of soldiers—but it never happened. True to his word, Ryan kept the path to the shuttles open. Shouts reverberated on the other side of doors as Zed passed, but he didn't slow down, didn't pause. His foot burned with each step. His muscles ached, still feeling the abuse of the stin poison and its aftermath. Kinley seemed to grow heavier, less capable of helping.

By the time they stumbled into the shuttle bay, Zed was running on fumes. He'd been a soldier in worse conditions—his body remembered, even if he didn't want to, and it carried him to the nearest shuttle. Zed had half thought that the massive shuttle bay would have some personnel, but it was echoingly empty.

When he mentioned it to Ryan, he couldn't mistake the pride in the other man's voice. "I faked an airlock failure. Not too many guys willing to risk that, even if they know the system is being fucked with."

"Good thinking."

"I know."

Zed strapped Kinley into one of the shuttle's seats, then collapsed into the pilot's chair. The dash wavered and he braced his hands on it, blinking, until his vision straightened itself out. Not a lot of sleep in the past couple of days, not enough water, definitely not enough food, paired with the adrenaline in his system—yeah, no wonder his stamina stuttered at the first hint of safety.

"We're in." Zed triggered the holo interface, hoping and praying that the shuttle still had its emergency tutorials in place. In theory, a shuttle wasn't much more complicated than a skipper, but at least a skipper stayed close to the ground. And in the atmosphere of a planet. If he fucked up a command on one of the small, agile military transports, it probably wasn't going to kill everyone on board. Unless he really fucked up. A little mistake here, though…

Think positive.

The tutorials were there. Zed engaged them and followed the steps they recommended, running the shuttle through its preflight diagnostics. It wasn't something Flick ever did with the Chaos —that was more Qek's style, though even she skipped the full array.

"Okay, head to—" A crash sliced across the comm. Muffled shouting. Then, "Shit! Zed, go! The Chaos will find you. Tell Marnie ? —"

"Ryan!" Zed held up his cuff and screamed into it again. "Ryan!"

Silence.

"Fuck. Fuck." He scrubbed a hand over his face, then repositioned his fingers over the shuttle's controls. Ryan had given up everything to make sure he and Kinley had this shot at freedom.

Zed wasn't going to blow it.