Dark Ice (Mercenaries Book 2)

  Dark Ice

  A.R. Knight

  Contents

  1. Prologue

  2. Leaving Ganymede

  3. Viola Returns

  4. The Doctor

  5. Precise Shot

  6. Boxer

  7. Neptune

  8. Hotshot

  9. Picking the Crew

  10. Split

  11. Descent

  12. Newcomers

  13. Go Time

  14. The Karat

  15. Interrogation

  16. Reflex

  17. Boarding Party

  18. The Jumper

  19. The Halls

  20. Digging

  21. Hijackers

  22. The Lost Pilot

  23. Mechanical Offensive

  24. Paralyze

  25. Aftermath

  26. Engineers

  27. Traitors

  28. The Bridge

  29. Outside

  30. Blow the Door

  31. Last Man

  32. Wind

  33. Escape

  34. Hunted

  35. Cargo Hold

  36. To the Rescue

  37. Dodge Kick

  38. Blue Gold

  39. Crash Landing

  40. To the Bridge

  41. Reunited

  42. Mutiny

  43. Interrogations

  44. New Orders

  45. Perspective

  46. Turret Game

  47. Guarded

  48. Bridges

  49. Legacy

  50. Frantic

  51. Reversal

  52. Release

  53. Flight Plan

  54. Shooter’s Past

  55. Improvising

  56. Vacuum

  57. Falling Apart

  58. An Escape

  59. Seek and Find

  60. The Metal Man

  61. One of Them

  62. Eden’s Orders

  1

  Prologue

  The face appeared on the screen and Alissa kept herself from flinching. Webs of scars played across the visage. Patches of skin the false white of cooked meat. That could have been her. Or worse. Alissa forced a smile.

  "It is good to see you smile," The man said. "I feared you'd forgotten how."

  "We survive through hope, Bakr," Alissa said. "I don't think many would follow me if I showed nothing but sorrow."

  Not that sorrow was hard to find. Their ships were near each other, Bakr's frigate and Alissa's transport, swirling in a dead spot in space where the only distinguishing feature was that there was no distinguishing feature. A far cry from Mars' red hills and domed cities. From those crowded halls where arms raised in defiance against the corporations and their wage slavery.

  Her sister, Marl, would have been there, echoing the call, instead of buried beneath broken Europan ice.

  "So where will we find hope now?" Bakr asked. "We have no planet. Only scattered remnants for forces. No coin left with which to pay the ones who stay with us."

  They had held a third of Mars. The largest spaceport. The Red Voice had been respected. Now, it was only desperate. Alissa pressed her eyes shut for a moment. Desperate also meant dangerous.

  "My sister can help us with that last," Alissa replied. "I'll send along the details. It won't be a short trip, but necessary."

  "And after?"

  "With the coin, we rebuild. Without it . . ."

  Speaking the words lacerated her. They didn't warrant an end like this, obscured and defeated. The men and women of Mars deserved more than what the corporations deigned to give them. But powerful speeches didn't make fleets, didn't turn the minds of those with their hands on the triggers.

  "Then I will secure the coin," Bakr said.

  "Please, Bakr," Alissa said. "You saved my life once. I need you again."

  "You have me."

  At the nod from the burned captain, Alissa cut the feed. Sat back on the soft couch in her cabin, surrounded by the remnants of her luxuries. A pair of pictures still hung on the walls, not the usual projections but actual paintings. Landscapes, from Earth. Taken when her family first made its leap to the stars, with Alissa barely born. They had been full of hope then. Of possibility. She needed that now.

  2

  Leaving Ganymede

  The solar system sprawled out on the glass in front of them, planets, space stations, and passing comets spiraling around each other. Davin Masters reached out, pressed his finger on the small shape of Ganymede and traced a line back to Earth. As Davin moved his hand away, the line wavered, shifting as the Whiskey Jumper's computer calculated the time it would take to get there, and the optimal route.

  "You think they'd even let us land?" Phyla, her fiery hair pulled into a tight ponytail, said. "I know the readings say we're still good for one G, but I'm not sure."

  "Could get sick too," Davin replied. "Bones turn to mush while we're coughing up our lungs."

  "You still want to go."

  "I hear the beaches are incredible."

  Phyla laughed, shook her head. Davin smiled at himself, but the grin faded as he looked at the line, now a solid green tracing an elliptical path from Ganymede to Earth. It would only take a few weeks. Doable with the Jumper's engines. But everything cost coin, and there wasn't any waiting for them there. Especially for people still wanted for murder.

  "It's nice, hearing you laugh," Davin said. "Haven't heard that lately."

  He hadn't commented on Phyla touching her right side after laughing, a tender acknowledgment of laser burns still painful after Marl shot her on Europa. Shot trying to clear their own names. And the one left who could do that was holding them hostage. Davin had more than a few choice insults ready the next time he saw Bosser, and the punch line would be the business end of his sidearm.

  "You haven't been funny," Phyla said, the smile dying on her lips. "Not that anyone could be."

  Davin reached back out to the glass, swiped away the path to Earth and drew another. This time farther away from the Sun, out past the large rings of Saturn, past Uranus, to the frozen edge of humanity's expansion. Neptune. The icons showing space stations all but disappeared past Saturn, with only two outposts sitting on Uranus for mining. Neptune itself was beyond the profitable reach of most corporations, a time-sink full of risk due to the planet's high winds and isolation.

  "Guessing the beaches won't be quite as inviting out there," Davin said.

  "You think they're ready?"

  "Don't have a choice," Davin said. "It's leave tomorrow, or he'll send more androids after us."

  The captain stood up from the co-pilot's chair.

  "And after this?" Phyla said. "Are we going to do whatever Bosser says forever?"

  "If Bosser pays us what he's offering," Davin said, putting a hand on Phyla's shoulder. "The rest of you can go. Set yourselves up however you want."

  "And you?"

  "He killed Lina." Was all Davin said. Was all he needed to say.

  3

  Viola Returns

  "You realize you nearly die every time you leave, right?"

  Puk spoke as it buzzed around Viola's head, stuffed deep inside her bedroom closet. A suitcase, designed for weeks of travel and covered in Galaxy Forge logos, sat spread on the bed. The luggage vacuum-sealed sections to force out all the air and allow for maximum space.

  "But I die inside every day I'm here doing nothing!" Viola's reply muffled by a sweater.

  "That's an exaggeration. Your vitals are actually much more stable here than with the Wild Nines."

  "That's not what I meant," Viola said, pulling out of the closet with a clutch of clothes in her arms.

  A knock came at the door. Three sharp taps, the signature en
try Viola's father used ever since a much younger, half-asleep Viola thought he was intruding and launched a lamp at his face as her dad came through the door. Her father had fought aging to a stalemate, achieving a plastic-like forty year-old face through patchwork treatments. Her mother, and most anyone with the coin, looked the same once they were old enough that their lives were at risk. There was no clearer mark of status.

  Viola turned away from her father's stare, focused on folding her clothes. He wasn't going to like her decision, and she didn't want to see the disappointment on his face.

  "So you're going," Her dad said. It wasn't a question. Puk heard the tone and quietly floated to its charging cradle. Some conversations didn't need a sarcastic bot's input.

  "Did you ever really think I'd stay?" Viola said.

  "I hoped," The words carried an edge of hope on them, a tint of self-awareness. "I remember what it's like being young, no matter what your mother says. But there's a difference between seeing the solar system and doing it in the company of wanted criminals. Did they even say you could join?"

  "I haven't asked them yet," Viola said. "I don't know why Davin would say no."

  "Have you thought about how all of them, and I know, because I've run checks on their names--"

  "You did what?"

  "They're dangerous. It's one thing when they're dropping you off. Another when you're going with them," Her dad said this as though he was explaining simple math to her. That digging into the history of the Wild Nines without Viola's, without their consent was perfectly logical. "You know what I found?"

  "That they're a bunch of evil, terrible people who'll only get me killed?" Viola said. She walked over to her suitcase and dropped clothes inside, shuffling them into their proper positions. Easier to hide the anger in her eyes with her back turned.

  "No. That they're trained, Viola. That they have experience. Most of them were military. What are you doing on that ship besides getting in the way?"

  He meant well. Viola knew her dad was just trying to convince her to stay. That he wasn't trying to say she was useless. But all Viola could focus on was the idea that she wasn't good enough. Not worth a spot on the Jumper.

  "Maybe that's all I'm doing," Viola said slowly, feeling her way through the reply. "Maybe I won't last long. I'll get hurt. Or scared and run. But if I stay here, I'll always wonder. Always regret not even trying. So yeah, I'm going."

  As she spoke, Viola looked up from the suitcase and stared straight at her father. Not a flinch in her face. Not a touch of blush. When she'd run from Ganymede before, Viola had done it facing no one. Without having to defend her choice. Saying the reasons gave them new life, and Viola stood straighter, matched her father's look.

  Her father took the words in and nodded. Then, before Viola could react, he stepped forward and wrapped her in a tight hug.

  "We love you, Viola. Just come back to us," Her dad said. "Davin and his group are lucky to have you."

  "Sure, now you say it," Viola murmured, but her voice had no edge left.

  An hour later, the suitcase rolling along under its own power behind her, Viola walked into the bay dominated by the modular bulk of the Whiskey Jumper. The big ship wasn't real aerodynamic, built by attaching different components, like crew bays, the cockpit, and a secondary cargo hold with a medical unit onto the large central cube. In the zero gravity of space, though, that didn't matter.

  A ramp extended from the central cargo module, and disappearing up it was the thick, metal-laced legs of Mox. The man,a gigantic ball of muscle, wore an exoskeleton at all times. It gave him more strength, speed, and the choice to wear a laser cannon that spat fire too fast for Viola's eyes to see. Compared to Mox, what was Viola going to do here? How could she even compare?

  "Hey!" Trina's bright voice came from near the back of the ship, her purple-haired head poking itself out from behind the engines. "Look who showed up! Come back here!"

  Viola looked around, but there wasn't anyone else standing there in the bay, so she walked around the ship to the back, where Trina stood on her tiptoes looking into one of the four, two right and two left, large circular nodules that directed the Jumper's thrust.

  "You're taller than me," Trina said. "Can you take a look in here, tell me what you see?"

  Viola nodded, moved to where Trina was standing and looked into the deep dark of the nodule. The Jumper generated its thrust through ionized gas expelled out through the nodules, which meant small pipes pushed the compressed gas to the open nozzle. Allowed to expand, the gas pushed the ship forward. If the Jumper needed more power, a mechanic in the engine room could ignite the gas through a small switch capable of igniting extra tanks, burning the fuel quickly for an extra jolt. Viola's eyes went right to that switch, mostly because sparks were popping off of it like the world's tiniest fireworks show.

  "It's the sparker," Viola said.

  "Think you can fix it?"

  "I think so, yeah,"

  "Then show me," Trina said. "This ship could use a back-up mechanic."

  The next twenty minutes had Trina tossing one tool after another to Viola, while Puk hovered nearby projecting a bright light on the nodule. For the first time that day, Viola could immerse herself in pure problem-solving. A twist here to unlock the access to the circuit, a pull with the pliers to separate the wires that had tangled themselves, thus getting keeping the circuit complete and sparks triggering away. It wasn't hard, but when the flits of light stopped popping in her face, Viola couldn't stop herself from grinning.

  "You two figure that thing out yet?" Davin's voice came from behind.

  "Well, I don't think your ship's going to blow up anymore," Viola replied.

  "I would also add that you will now have some redundancy in keeping the Jumper repaired," Trina said.

  "Great, cause it's time to go," Davin said as Viola put the sparker back together. "Viola, I had Mox put your stuff in the open cabin. Used to be Cadge's, so I'm sorry for anything weird you find in there."

  Her suitcase was already on-board? Not even a discussion? Viola turned to ask why, but Davin was already walking back to the front of the ship, Trina following.

  "Guess you're in," Puk said.

  "Guess so," Viola replied.

  4

  The Doctor

  Ion burns scarred black and jagged, spider-webbing slashes hard to coat precisely with ointment. Erick wrapped a bandage around the worker's thigh, the unlucky victim of a misfired engine test. A yellowed synthetic goo seeped out from beneath the wrap, but soaked its way into the worker's skin. Moisturize and numb while nanobots in the mix repaired the worker's nerves.

  "It won't ever go away completely," Erick said. "Unless you chop it off and get a new one."

  The worker looked confused.

  "I mean the leg. Amputate it," Erick tried.

  "Amputate?" The worker's voice jumped an octave. "I'm losing my leg?"

  "No, that's not what I said," Erick sighed and let his hand hover just over the spots where the goo leaked out. The air was markedly cooler above, a sign the goo was doing its job. Pull energy, heat, out of the air around it and use that same energy to repair broken cells, knit skin back together, make scars disappear.

  "But you—”

  "You'll be fine," Erick interrupted. "Don't put weight on it for the rest of the day. You'll be back at work tomorrow."

  "Not even a day off? You sure?" The worker glanced at the bandage, mouth twisting into a frown. "It hurt pretty bad."

  "I'm sure it did. Now, off you go," Erick replied, opening the room's door.

  The worker, limping, left. A look up at the waiting room camera showed plenty more with similar issues. A massive complex full of people playing with dangerous chemicals and machines will do that. Still, it was better than sitting on the Jumper, bored and watching the hours crawl.

  A knock, then the door opened. A woman walked in, hair a bright shade of green,grass on a sunny morning

  A sunny morning. Where did that come from? It'd b
een decades since he'd seen one of those, a real dawn over a real meadow. Too long.

  "Erick?" Trina asked.

  "Hmm?" Erick said, still holding onto that perfect morning.

  "What are you doing?"

  "Saving the sick and the wounded," Erick blinked himself back to the present. "Yourself?"

  "Telling you to get back to the ship. Davin says you're not answering the comm."

  "I don't keep it in the room with me. It's distracting."

  "From what? My assessment pegs those patients out there as minor. Not a test of skill for you."

  "Consider it courtesy, then,"

  "I've seen the logs, Erick," Trina said, tilting her head and staring at him. "Your comm volume on the Jumper barely registers. One, maybe two transmissions a day. The rest of us, with friends, family, each other, triple that or more."

  "Spying on an old man, Trina?"

  "Just looking for irregularities," Trina said. "I can't help it."

  "I have my reasons," Erick replied. "Guess I prefer face to face instead of those pings."

  Because those pings carried waves of happiness, guilt, and lost moments all rolled into one. Beamed out from Earth, warm and friendly reminders of the lives he was missing. Daughter, son, grandchildren spinning through birthdays and weddings and births while Erick was out here, gelling workers back together.

  "It's hard to explain," Erick continued.

  "People say that, but it's inaccurate," Trina replied. "When what they really mean is that they don't want to talk about it."

  "It's more polite."

  "See, you take a machine. Like this one here," Trina moved over to a Vitals, called such because if you stood near one and turned it on, it focused its sensors on you for a few seconds and give a full readout on your breathing, blood pressure, and heart beat. "If it's acting funny, I can take it apart. Find out what's broken inside, or where the code is going wrong. You do the same with people, right?"

  "More or less."

  "Isn't the brain just another collection of parts?" Trina looked at Erick.