ë Archer - Collision Course

It wasn’t a damned ugly scarf after all, but a weapon. A lash, with a jagged, cutting edge that deployed only when in motion. And Kell wielded it masterfully, beating back mercenaries charging across the floor toward him. She wanted to watch his fluid, deadly grace, but other things needed attention. Like the half dozen guards headed in her direction.

She ran to the side of the platform and took cover. Then, careful to draw fire away from Kell,

shot at the advancing guards. Three went down, and Mara kept up her assault. As she continued her cover, Kell leapt up onto the dais. With brutal efficiency, he used both his whip and his fists to mow down the mercenaries trying to take him down. She had witnessed fights both sanctioned and spontaneous from one end of the galaxy to the other. Nothing and no one ever fought as beautifully, as capably as Kell. He was action and purpose, a blur she could barely track. Something primal within her heated to see him transform fully into a lethal warrior.

Mara continued to hold back advancing mercenaries, giving Kell the time he needed to free the lieutenant. Though, she confirmed with a quick glance, Jur seemed to have the situation in hand—she took advantage of the confusion to kick free of most of the mercenaries holding her. Nobody could match Kell for fighting skill, but Jur made an impressive sight as she grappled with the last guard holding her.

As the guards fell back to regroup, Mara sprang up onto the platform. She picked up another dropped weapon so she held two pistols. She fired a plasma round into a mercenary lunging for Kell, then slipped behind the guard still struggling with Jur.

One gun barrel pressed to the back of the guard’s head, the other jammed up between his legs.

The mercenary froze.

“Good boy.” Mara nudged the pistol she held between his legs. “Let go of your shiny toy.”

His hand opened, releasing his grip on Jur’s arm. The moment he did, the lieutenant punched him in the jaw and he slid to the ground, out cold.

Shaking out her hand, Jur said, “I’m not complaining, but who are you?”

“A friend of Kell’s,” seemed the easiest, and shortest, explanation.

“Thank you, Kell’s friend.” Jur looked toward where Kell fought three guards. “Let’s give him a hand.”

Gods curse it, she really didn’t want to respect the lieutenant, but it was a challenge. She and Jur shared a nod, then sprang into the fray. Between Mara, Lieutenant Jur and Kell, they cleared the platform in less than a minute.

Kell turned to Mara and Jur. “Appreciate it.” His dark gaze moved over Mara, quick and attentive. “Hurt?”

She shook her head. “You?”

“Feels like old times.” He grinned, and her chest constricted at the sight. His smile dimmed a little when he looked at Jur, finally acknowledging her torn and dirty uniform, the bruises on her face.

“Which of these fuckers hurt you?”

“Just a few knocks, Commander.” She waved off his concern, but said, more gently, “The next time we meet, it should be under better circumstances. Maybe at the mess hall on base. Though the food’s better here.”

The contraction in Mara’s chest tightened. Kell and Jur bantered easily with each other, revealing a long history—far longer than Mara could claim. It doesn’t matter now.

Kell seemed satisfied that they were all in one piece, then leapt off the dais. “Weapons,” he said over his shoulder.

They followed him out of the warehouse, darting through the chaos of the panicking crowd outside. Smugglers, scavengers and slavers were trying to cram themselves through the gate to get to their ships. A small, smoldering pile of debris indicated that at least one hysterical smuggler tried to run through the plasma fence rather than go through the gate.

No one ever said a scared smuggler was a smart smuggler, Mara thought.

She and Jur caught up with Kell as he took down the guards outside the weapons storage structure. Kell grabbed the decoder from an unconscious guard’s belt and pressed it to the control panel beside the door. It opened with a hiss, and then he, Mara and Jur stepped inside.

All three of them smiled.

“It’s like Solstice Morning.” Mara sighed.

“And Lunar New Year, and Birth Celebration all rolled into one.” Kell’s smile widened into a grin.

Weapons of every size, shape and variety were lined up on tables and hung in cases on the walls.

Pistols, rifles, plasma shredders, heavy and light guns. Plasma grenades. Ion muskets. Even a surface-to-air blaster.

“Smugglers and scavengers aren’t always smart.” Mara stroked a plasma shredder. “But they are well-armed.”

Kell threw her another devastating grin, before he made his way up and down the rows of firearms, loading himself down with as many weapons as he could carry. She and the Lieutenant followed his example, and soon they bristled like a very small, very dangerous army. Even so, there were only three of them and dozens of mercenaries waiting outside.

“How’s my Wraith?” Jur asked.

“Unbreached, for now.” Kell checked the power supply for a long-barreled plasma rifle before slinging it over his shoulder. He tucked a few grenades into his belt for extra measure. “Let’s not keep her waiting.”

They stepped outside the storage structure, then flattened against the wall as a volley of plasma fire erupted around them. Mara cursed when she saw the mercenaries positioned in the alley between the weapons structure and the building that contained the Black Wraith. Clearly the guards had been ordered to protect the ship. The alley was a long, vulnerable dash, hemmed in on every side.

Though the route to the Black Wraith was heavily guarded, none of the mercenaries were focused on the way out of the compound, and the ships docked there. Provided one could push through the still teeming, frenzied mob, all that remained was a fairly straight shot to an escape.

More plasma fire burst around Mara, Kell and Jur. They crouched low and shot back.

Kell’s mouth flattened into a determined line. “Mara, you and Celene head back to the Arcadia.

Blend in with the others and you can get through. Take off immediately.”

“What about you?” Mara demanded.

“I’ll go for the Wraith.” He glanced at the treacherous path leading toward the ship. “If I can’t fly it, I’ll be sure to destroy it.”

Jur’s eyes widened, but she nodded with understanding.

Mara was less understanding. “You’ll be stranded.”

He fired off several rounds at the mercenaries. “There are other ships.”

“If you can reach them.” Mara gritted her teeth. What Kell proposed meant his death. He was beyond capable, but the odds against him were monumental. It would take more than skill and brains to survive. Only the intervention of the gods could keep him alive.

She wasn’t certain if she believed in the gods. But there was something she did believe in.

“I’m staying with you.”

The explosions had been loud, but not loud enough to damage Kell’s hearing. Still, it took him a moment to realize he hadn’t misheard Mara.

“Someone’s got to fly Celene out of here,” he said above the plasma fire hammering around them.

Mara threw Celene a quick glance. “How are you at piloting modified trawlers?”

“If it has wings,” she answered, “I can fly it.”

Turning back to him, Mara said, “Your odds go up if you’re not alone, but you can’t risk two Wraith pilots on this mission. Jur gets to safety first. She flies herself out of here and I give you backup.”

“She’ll pilot the Arcadia.” He couldn’t keep the disbelief out of his voice.

“And I help get us to the Black Wraith.” Mara held his stare coolly, almost defiantly.

He felt gut-punched. She’d made it abundantly clear on many occasions that she’d suffer no one but herself to take the Arcadia’s controls. The ship meant everything to her, weighted with her sense of freedom and self. She hadn’t even allowed him to pilot the ship through the dangers of Ilden’s Lash or the energy storm. Now, she was poised to hand off control of the Arcadia to someone she had met just minutes ago. Someone she didn’t like very much.

To help him.

He relied on other members of the squad. They watched each other’s backs, trusted each other.

But that was part of being in Black Wraith Squad. Unquestioning loyalty to one another. Mara owed him nothing—less than nothing, actually. But the enormity of what she proposed stole his breath and made his heart pump as if he’d run a dozen geomiles.

Now wasn’t the time to wonder at it, or her. If they survived this mission, then, and only then,

could he sit down with a bottle of Deianeiran whiskey and figure out what it all meant.

“Any way I can talk you out of this?” The route to the hangar was a dangerous one. He wasn’t even certain that he’d make it, not without taking some hits. The thought of Mara being hurt, or worse, felt like ice in his veins.

“Not a damn chance. The likelihood of your getting to the Black Wraith is much better if you aren’t alone.” She raised a brow. “You do want the mission to be a success, don’t you? Think of the consequences if it fails.”

Fuck. She knew his weakness and exploited it ruthlessly. He’d admire her for it, if he didn’t want to throttle her. And, unfortunately, what she proposed made sense. The possibility of reaching the Black Wraith went up if he had additional eyes and firepower. He just wished it wasn’t her providing them.