Chapter 9

Zenith swirled the contents of her glass, stirring up the phosphorescent flakes within. The drink itself was a generic blended whisky from Brightstone mixed with a generous amount of soda. She had ordered the drink knowing that the conversation with Sturdy might go sideways. Getting smashed before potentially outing a spy seemed like a bad idea.

“Do you drink at all?” She asked.

“Not often, and only when I’m not on a job. I prefer these,” Sturdy said, pulling a cartridge from his pocket.

“Nox? That stuff is pretty addictive.”

“No more so than the normal vices,” he said, nodding at her drink, “and these will let you keep your senses sharp.”

“You worry about losing control?”

“No. I’m always in control.”

“Because you don’t drink?”

“Because I’m trained to be.”

“Do you worry about other people losing control?”

The question made him pause.

“Depends on how dangerous they are.”

“Oh yeah? Alright, how about Adam?”

“Mild concern, given his training.”

“Odybrix?”

“Very concerned.”

“Obviously. BOB?”

He hesitated, his posture stiffening ever so slightly.

“Negligible.”

“Me?”

“Also negligible, unless you’re piloting.”

“Ooh, big mistake. You haven’t seen me with a sniper rifle.”

“I didn’t take you for the shooting type. How did you pick up the skill?”

“My brother,” she said, a note of sorrow entering her voice. “I wouldn’t call our relationship healthy, but we did like to challenge each other. Didn’t take long before I was a better shot than him. Pissed him off, being career military and all.”

“What are you going to do if Remington wants him dead?”

“Save him. Blood’s worth more than credits, even if it’s bad. Anyway, speaking of skills, how does a mercenary learn to sneak into spacecraft and hack databases?”

“Experience.”

“Oh yeah? Because it sounds like professional training to me. Less merc, more spy.”

“You’ve met a lot of spies?”

“If I have, they obviously weren’t very good ones,” she said, taking a sip from the glass. “I’ve dodged a few teams working covert ops, so I recognize the profile of a spook.”

“Wait,” he said, lifting his fingers, but not his hand from the table. “Take a look around, but don’t turn your head.”

It wasn’t an attempt to derail the conversation. Dwarves in suits were quietly approaching patrons throughout the club, handing them what must have been vouchers, and escorting them out through side exits. The club was being systematically cleared out around them. Zenith’s finger twitched and she felt the alarming absence of her sidearm. This was bad.

She began to rise but, Sturdy took her hand. Her eyes met his and he gently nodded downward. A kinetic pistol rested on his lap.

“How did you get that past dock security?” She asked.

“I didn’t. I’ve got another under my shirt. We’ve been set up.”

“Yeah, got the feeling this is about to get hairy. We need to get to the others.”

“I can. I’ve got the stealth tech. Plan: we flip the table, you draw their fire, I get the crew.”

Zenith hesitated, knowing what he had been tasked to do to BOB, but there wasn’t much choice. She took his hand and said, “I’m trusting you to get them out of there.”

Sturdy nodded. “On three. One. Two.”

The countdown stopped when a dark-skinned infernum stepped into the Perihelion and was confronted by two of Tibor’s goons. One pointed to the door she came out of, clearly trying to get her to leave. Instead, she made a quick series of hand gestures and suddenly one dwarf was tackling the other. Tibor stood by the bar, shifting his gaze from the infernum to his grappling allies, then to Zenith and Sturdy. He reached for something tucked behind his back.

“Three!” Zenith yelled, flipping the table and grabbing the gun.

Sturdy actived the stealthweave causing his body to disappear in expanding blotches of invisibility. Zenith heard his first few footsteps before the table started getting peppered with bullets and the occasional plasma blast. The kinetic fire didn’t pierce the impromptu shield, but bright orange circles blossomed where the plasma struck. It wouldn’t be long before her cover was torn to shreds.

She waited for a lull in the hail of gunfire, then popped out and took two shots at a nearby thug. The first hit triggered a personal shield generator, causing blue light to cascade around the dwarf. The second took him in the head. The dozen or so remaining thugs took cover—they hadn’t been expecting resistance.

Zenith caught a glimpse of the infernum woman before ducking back into cover. Her own shield flickered as she took a shot from Tibor. In response, she raised a hand and a mote of flame flew from her fingertips, catching the dwarf in the head and searing his face. An instant later, she drew a small metal cylinder and a blade of crackling energy erupted from it. In a few seconds, she closed the distance between a group of gunmen and began their systematic dismemberment.

Who the fuck is that?

Buddy choked as she inhaled the searing vapor. Her hands automatically went to her hips for her pistols, but found none. The crew was still reeling from the ambush and barely able to dodge the first blast from the shotgun. The murder-bot took aim at Odybrix’ head and fired as she dove to the side, catching some of the spray in her shoulder.

The murder-bot swung the shotgun in Buddy’s direction, levelling it at her chest as pain lanced through her lungs. She wasn’t going to be able to dodge it. The muzzle flashed and, in the same instant, BOB sprung up in front of her, taking a direct blast to their chassis. They landed on their side with a heavy clunk.

“BOB!” She cried.

Adam surged forward, tearing one of the chairs in front of the desk from its fastening to the floor and smashing it over the bot’s head. Seeing a chance, Buddy ducked behind their would-be assassin and jumped on top of it, furiously attempting to kick, elbow, and otherwise bludgeon the weapon from its hands. A pink glow enveloped the shotgun a moment later, pulling it, the bot, and Buddy forward. Three successive shots blared in the death chamber, two hitting the wall and the last catching Jim in the hand as he jumped out of the line of fire. Buddy gave one last powerful downward kick and dislodged the weapon from its grip, then rolled forward, grabbing the shotgun and unloaded five shots into the murder-bot.