“A run and gun is going to be tight,” she said. “Three armed robots against two humans. Not good odds. They’ll reduce us to vapor while you hack the door.”

He frowned, deep in thought. “Might be able to equalize the odds. Turn them to our favor.”

“Tell me what you’re thinking.”

He rifled through his pack until he produced a hand-held device. “This will hack into their wireless command net and override it.”

“And have three robot sentries on our side.” She grinned. “Excellent plan.”

“Same principles of Nifalian chess. Transform the opponent’s pawns into your own, surround the king, take the crown.”

“Why’s it always chess with you?” But she smiled as she asked this.

He shrugged. “Before this mission, it was my sole referent for excitement.”

“And now…?”

His raffish grin charmed her, even in the midst of danger. “I’m going to have some good stories when we get back to base.”

A thought flared—when they returned, would he brag to his Engineering pals about getting into Stainless Jur’s flight suit?

She pushed that troubling thought from her mind. It would only distract her. “Let’s get these robots off our backs.”

He got to work on the device, swiftly manipulating its controls. “The command codes are constantly rewriting themselves,” he muttered. “I’ll only be able to control one of the sentries.”

“Do whatever you can.”

A moment later, he said, “It’s done. I’ve sent the guard a new command stream.”

One of the robot sentries stopped in its patrol. As another sentry passed, it turned its devastating weapon on one of the approaching sentries. Destroying the gun turret. The fired-upon guard was now a smoldering collection of metal.

The remaining sentry began to fire on their robot ally.

“The sensors will read this as a system malfunction.” Nils pocketed the hacking device. “Not an attack.”

“Then we take advantage of the distraction.” She jumped to her feet and ran toward the main building. He was fast at her side.

They reached the entryway to the main building, and she kept watch as Nils worked furiously to hack the system.

Finally, the entry door opened, but only wide enough for a person to slide in sideways.

“Now where?” she muttered once they were inside. She glared at the maze of metal panel-lined hallways that stretched on all sides. The building certainly hadn’t looked so large or complex from the outside.

He consulted the tracking device he’d taken from the Phantom. It continued to trace the location of the disruptor. “This way.”

He jogged down one of the corridors, with her trailing after him, her eyes and weapon in constant motion as she scanned for threats.

They rounded a corner, and another, then flattened back as a hail of plasma fire erupted. Carefully peering around the corner, she saw the PRAXIS guards had taken up position outside an interior chamber. The door behind them closed quickly, its locks engaging with a loud hiss. The PRAXIS officer was nowhere to be seen.

“He’s got to be inside with Marek.” She returned fire.

“Then that’s where we need to be,” answered Nils. He also shot back at the PRAXIS troops. Quickly, he glanced down at the tracking device. “The disruptor’s in there, as well.”

She smiled grimly. “One-stop shopping.” He frowned at her, not understanding, and she shook her head. “An ancient expression. Someone used it in a history vid.”

Three PRAXIS guards to two 8th Wing soldiers. Unbalanced, but she’d been in worse spots. She shot as fast and accurately as two ordinary soldiers—resulting in a stalemate. She and Nils kept trading fire with the guards, unable to advance. There was no other way into the inner chamber, however.

“Marek could be finalizing the deal right now,” Nils said through clenched teeth. Frustration tightened his words. “He might directly upload the plans for the disruptor to PRAXIS. Which means it doesn’t matter what we do out here.”

“A download isn’t instantaneous. We’ll get in.”

Glancing around, she looked for something, anything, she could use to their advantage. Her gaze fell on the metal panels that lined the corridor. She’d seen plasma blasts ricochet off the panels, so they had to be reinforced, or made with a special alloy that resisted plasma fire. She hoped that a different metal was used to bolt the panels to the walls.

“Got anything to remove rivets in that pack of yours?”

“Ion cutter. Why?”

She flicked a glance toward the panels, and he gave a little smile of understanding. “You lay down cover,” he shouted above the gunfire. “I’ll take care of the metalwork.” He snapped on a pair of goggles and got to work.

She continued to shoot at the PRAXIS guards, hoping the charge in her blaster lasted long enough. Sparks cascaded as Nils used his ion cutter to take down a large panel.

He appeared at her side with the broad sheet of metal. She thought about telling him that he still wore his goggles, then decided against it. He looked dashing in them, like a sand corsair.

“Ready to move in?” she asked.

He hefted the panel. “This stof and tand game is pissing me off.”

At her signal, with him in the lead, they rounded the corner, putting them directly in the firing line. But the PRAXIS plasma blasts bounced off the makeshift shield. She followed Nils, firing at the guards as he slowly advanced down the corridor.

A guard went down. Leveling the odds.

Nils planted the shield down and fired, as well. He took out another PRAXIS guard. Leaving only one.

The remaining guard immediately threw down his weapon, then lifted his hands in surrender.

She kept her blaster on him as Nils took the PRAXIS trooper’s gun, then pushed him to the ground. Nils pulled a length of touw cord from his pack and quickly tied up their captive, feet bound, hands behind back.

Stepping forward, she knocked the trooper unconscious. Nils stared at her, brow raised.

“Added security,” she explained. “Don’t want him wriggling free while the mission is ongoing.”

He muttered something about bloodthirsty pilots as they collected the fallen guards’ weapons. She had a gun for each hand. They readied themselves outside the door to the inner chamber.

He worked to hack into the final control panel. Voices sounded on the other side of the door. Marek and the PRAXIS officer shouted at one another.

It took Nils several minutes before he managed to crack the control panel—attesting to Marek’s extreme paranoia. As Nils labored to break into the system, the yelling inside grew even more heated.

Finally, the last door slid open, revealing the man they had traveled millions of miles to find.

And he had a massive plasma shotgun pointed right at them.

Chapter Eleven

Nils stared up the length of the gun, fury vibrating through him. He’d been thinking of this moment ever since he learned Marek was the one behind the disruptor’s creation. Now, here he and Celene were, face to face with the traitor.

Marek kept his weapon pointed at them, but Nils and Celene did not lower their blasters. They stepped in a chamber crammed full of equipment, walls covered in monitors and control panels, spare components littering the ground. The room smelled of stale body and electricity. Empty ration plates stacked in the corner, food drying into crusts. Clearly Marek seldom left this chamber, despite the size of the compound.

As they entered, both Nils and Celene caught sight of the PRAXIS officer escaping through a small hatch at the back of the chamber. Nils took a step forward, intent on pursuit, but Marek’s shotgun held him back.

In the middle of the chamber stood a tower of circuitry and blinking lights. Judging by its configuration, the tower had to be the disruptor. It seemed like a harmless collection of electronics, yet it was the most powerful weapon he’d had ever beheld, capable of crippling the 8th Wing.

“Delightful,” Marek sneered. “Stainless Jur has come to pay a visit.”

“She’s come to kick your ass,” Celene answered.

“Calder,” Marek said, his gaze flicking over him. “Didn’t expect to see you outside of your Engineering cave. But I suppose if anyone would have found a way to track me, it would be NerdWorks’ golden boy.” His mouth curled into an ugly approximation of a smile. “Doesn’t matter. Neither of you will be leaving this planet alive, and then PRAXIS will chew up and shit out the 8th Wing.”

“You piece of lunc,” Celene spat.

Marek shrugged, though he looked far from relaxed. A film of sweat coated his waxen face, and he clutched the plasma shotgun tightly. “The 8th Wing pension can’t buy me a single-chamber dwelling in the Makell System, let alone a spread like this.”

“Except you keep yourself prisoner in this shithole,” Nils snarled.

Marek barked out a laugh. “Language, Lieutenant Calder. Spending time with this Black Wraith hotshot has ruined your pristine vocabulary. Besides,” he added, his eyes burning and manic, “I like this shithole. The devices I build here appreciate what I do for them. Unlike the 8th Wing.”

“That is why you built the disruptor? That’s why you’d throw the 8th Wing into PRAXIS’s jaws? Because you felt unappreciated?” Celene scoffed. “Calling you pathetic would be a compliment.”

Rage tightened Marek’s features as he stepped closer, shortening the distance between them. “There are two of you. One of me. You could rush me at the same time. But I’ll turn one of you into subatomic particles before the other can get a shot out. So…who will it be? Who will cross over into the Starfields of Eternal Bliss? Or,” he added, almost cheerful, “you could lay down your blasters and put your hands up. Surrender.”