RAMPANT DESTRUCTION

©2020 ANDY PELOQUIN

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CONTENTS

ALSO IN THE SERIES

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

FROM THE PUBLISHER

ALSO IN THE SERIES

Fantasy Books by Andy Peloquin:

Queen of Thieves (Grimdark):

Heirs of Destiny (Action/Adventure):

About the Author

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ALSO IN THE SERIES

ASSASSINATION PROTOCOL

TERMINAL SECRETS

CYBER STRIKE

PARAGON SLAYER

VICIOUS JUSTICE

GHOST NEMESIS

SHADOW KILLER

REBEL HUNTER

LETHAL EXTRACTION

RAMPANT DESTRUCTION

COVERT INCURSION

CHAPTER ONE

As far as safe houses go, Nolan thought, I could do a lot worse.

It was a strangely lighthearted thought considering the grim situation. Hiding from the Protection Bureau—the same organization that had burned him and locked him up in the Vault—Nolan was as far off the grid as he could possibly get. He’d hoped never to use this particular safe house, but now he had no choice.

Yet there was no denying the breathtaking beauty surrounding him. The Celestial Cascades were among the most spectacular natural wonders not just on Exodus VI, but in the entire Nyzarian Empire. Twelve enormous waterfalls filled the air with misty spray that glistened in the predawn light of Lunarus, and the early morning moon seemed to set the water rippling with a thousand dancing diamonds as it plunged more than a kilometer straight down toward a vast pool surrounded by lush temperate rainforest.

The cabin Taia had purchased was far simpler than the majority of the estates and mansions overlooking the Cascades, but that served Nolan’s purpose perfectly. No one paid the small property any mind, and the abundance of air and spacecraft flying over the waterfalls provided ideal cover for the Phantasm. To Phobury Ground Control, his was just one more ship transporting a wealthy off-worlder on a weekend visit to the Celestial Cascades.

Taia set the ship dropping quickly toward a thick patch of rainforest a hundred meters from the cabin’s rear. Nolan was surprised to see the trees shimmer and vanish, a holographic image projected onto a system of camouflage netting that parted to reveal a concealed landing pad. There, an unfamiliar starspeeder sat berthed. True to their word, Master Sergeant Kane, Darren, and Zahra had arrived half an hour before them, and evidently they’d already gone up to the cabin and settled in. However, the relief and delight Nolan felt at being reunited with Warbeast Team was clouded by the knowledge of what had brought them here.

Taia had activated his contingency fail-safes after losing her connection to him—courtesy of the Vault’s broad-spectrum signal jam field and the neuro-spike collar that had been constructed for the exact purpose of scrambling her system. Only the fact that she’d had backups stored on her secondary servers had kept the Protection Bureau’s plan from shutting her down completely.

He’d managed to escape from the Vault before Warbeast Team had needed to break him out, but that left him with a new problem. The moment the Protection Bureau found out that he’d escaped, they’d be coming after him.

So he would go after them first.

Agent Styver and his bosses had made the mistake of trying to lock Nolan up, using him as their lab rat rather than putting a bullet in his brain. They’d taken their shot at him and missed. Now it was his turn to fire back. Warbeast Team would tilt the odds just a fraction in his favor.

A hand rested on Nolan’s arm, and he looked over at Jadis sitting in the co-pilot’s seat. She wore a simple combat suit—the older-model armor that Taia had retrofitted for her synth body—but no helmet, and Nolan could see the lines of worry she’d been trying to hide since she and Taia had rescued him and Jared.

And she was right to worry, he knew. Her civilian life had been shattered over and over: The attack on the Spacer’s Paradise as the White Sharks tried to kill Nolan; Mimi’s death at the hands of a corrupt Doof SWAT officer; her kidnapping by Shadowspear to use as leverage against Nolan; the op on Corrigan to eliminate Sic Semper Tyrannis; Nolan’s capture and whatever she and Taia had done to get him out. The woman numbered among the bravest, strongest people he’d ever known, but everyone had their breaking point.

He placed a hand over hers, squeezing it gently and giving her a smile he hoped looked reassuring. “If nothing else,” he said, trying for wry humor, “you’ll get to enjoy some pretty spectacular views.”

Jadis returned his smile, and hers made it clear that she wasn’t buying it. “I’ve always wanted to spend a weekend at the Celestial Cascades.” Her tone held the same note of forced nonchalance as his. “There are worse places to go into hiding, I suppose.”

Being near Jadis filled him with a deep, pervasive warmth. He couldn’t help marveling at her strength of spirit. Despite everything she’d endured, she refused to break, and faced each new challenge, threat, or impossible obstacle with stubborn determination and unshakeable will.

She would have made a hell of a Silverguard, he thought.

The Phantasm gave only a little jolt as it settled onto the landing pad. Nolan found himself constantly amazed by what the ship could do. Aidan Severance—or the imposter who had called himself by that name and taken on the moniker “The Redeemer” to rile up the SST—had intended to use it during his escape from Corrigan, but the dead man had no need of such a high-tech ship. The torchdrives had shaved a full twenty-five percent off their travel time between Genesis and Exodus VI, and the Phantasm had everything from full exterior digital cloaking to electronic tracking countermeasures to an array of weaponry that he’d only begun to fully explore.

Wherever the ship had come from, however it had ended up in the faux-Severance’s hands, it was a masterpiece of cutting-edge technology worth exponentially more than the priciest mansion overlooking the Celestial Cascades.

As soon as Taia gave him the all-clear, Nolan unbuckled his flight harness and stood. The aches and pains of his time in the Vault had just begun to fade—helped along by a dose of non-addictive painkillers Taia kept handy—and a few shots of concentrated glucose had restored most of his energy. A short rest had done wonders, and awakening to find Jadis sitting at his side had done the rest. Now once more armored in his combat suit and with his Echoblade and NC7 strapped to his belt, he felt like the cunning, lethal, elite operator that had made Cerberus such a useful asset to the Protection Bureau.

His time in the Vault hadn’t left him unscathed, however. He’d endured torments of mind and body, but it was the information he’d learned during his time inside the prison that haunted him.

He strode toward the Phantasm’s lone cabin, but stopped as he caught sight of the figure sleeping on the cot. Jared hadn’t fully regained consciousness, though Taia had said he was resting easy, no longer under the influence of whatever psychotropic drugs had kept him sedated in the Reformation tank. Once a strong man, almost as tall and broad in the shoulder as Nolan, Jared now looked like a withered husk. He had skin so pale it bordered on yellow, an emaciated face, and bones protruding from his wrists, cheeks, and shoulders. The man who had been Corporal Jared Garrett of the 37th Infantry had been reduced to this…thing.

And it was because of him. The knowledge had grown heavier with every passing hour, and nothing he’d done could shake it loose. Jared had been framed—almost certainly by the Protection Bureau—and locked in the Vault because he was the closest genetic match for Nolan, Subject 3-EX. He’d spent the last eighteen months as a Project Icarus lab rat because he was Nolan’s brother.

As gently as he could, Nolan lifted Jared from the bed—he weighed next to nothing—and carried him out of the cabin. Jadis stood waiting for him at the top of the Phantasm’s lowered rear ramp, and the worry on her face darkened at the sight of Jared in his arms.

“How much longer will he sleep?” Jadis asked.

“The longer the better,” Taia said, once more using her feminine, human-sounding vocal upgrade. “His body is still weak, but it is the neurological effects of his time in the Reformation tank that are the greatest cause for concern.”

Nolan’s gut clenched. The few times Jared had awoken, he’d been only mostly conscious and partially lucid. He’d recognized Nolan and remembered Lina—his fiancée, who he’d sent to deliver something important to Nolan, and who’d wound up murdered by Shadowspear—but the moments of clarity were as few and far between as his periods of consciousness.

He’ll be fine, he told himself. A bit of rest here, and he’ll be back to himself in no time. He wished he could feel more convinced. Even with Taia monitoring Jared’s condition, Nolan had no idea just how much the Reformation tank’s “treatments” had affected him.

Nolan led the way down the ramp and across the landing pad toward what appeared to be an underground tunnel that headed in the direction of the cabin. There, he spotted a compact, four-person hover-rail cart. It seemed Taia had prepared for everything, even ensuring mobility between the cabin and landing pad in case he visited in his wheelchair.

The ride through the underground tunnel lasted only a few seconds. Nolan cradled Jared in his arms as he walked down the short permacrete corridor that connected the hover-rail to a durasteel door barred with complex biometric security. Taia opened it before he reached it, and the door swung open into the cabin’s basement. The basement was empty, marked only by three pairs of footprints in the thick layer of dust covering the floor. No one had been in this place for more than four years—until now.

Nolan carried Jared up the basement steps and, at Taia’s direction, moved down the hallway at the top of the stairs toward a small bedroom at the western end of the house. The room was simply decorated but comfortable, with a plush-looking double bed that had a perfect view of the Celestial Cascades. Nolan couldn’t help smiling as he set his brother down gently onto the bed. That would be a good sight for Jared to wake up to.

Jadis rested a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll stay with him,” she said quietly. “You go do what you need to.”

Nolan looked at her. Worry wasn’t the only thing lining her face; she hadn’t slept more than a few hours since his escape from the Vault, and from what Taia had told him, not much more in the days leading up to his breakout.

But he just nodded. “Thank you.” He leaned close and kissed her—a soft, gentle kiss, but one filled with all the emotions swirling within him. “Really, I mean it. I know it’s not what you signed up for, but—“

“Please!” Jadis dismissed his words with a wave. “It’s exactly what I signed up for.” Her smile sparkled bright despite her visible exhaustion. “I knew what I was getting myself into, Nolan Garrett.” A hint of mischief shone in her eyes. “And now that I know just how handsome your brother is, I’m much more excited to spend time alone with him, ‘tending to his needs.’”

“Cruel!” Nolan mimicked a dagger thrust to his heart.

Her smile transformed into an adorable beam, accompanied by a little peal of laugher he’d always found so marvelous. “Go.” She shoved him gently toward the door. “Get out of here.”

Nolan cast a backward glance just before he left the room, and found Jadis settling into one of the two stuffed armchairs next to the bed, within easy reach of Jared. She’d done a marvelous job of caring for his brother in the last few hours since their rescue. Nolan hadn’t seen that caring side of her until now, but it shouldn’t have surprised him. Jadis was…well, she was Jadis, and the more he got to know her, the more he realized there was to know.

He pushed the thoughts aside as he hurried down the hallway toward the cabin’s living room. There was no time for happiness, frail as it might be, until he had solved the problem of the Protection Bureau once and for all.

Three people were waiting for him in the living room. Master Sergeant Kane stood over the dining room table, upon which he’d arranged a broad assortment of pistols, rifles, heavy machine guns, grenades, ammunition mags, energy clips, and explosives. Darren knelt next to a stack of equipment that now occupied what should have been the living room. The big man fumbled with the cables and wires, following Zahra’s quiet instructions to connect everything.

All of them turned toward him as he entered. Darren abandoned his work and rose to his feet, towering over both the equipment and his wife. Master Sergeant Kane gave Nolan a once-over, but instead of remarking on Nolan’s resemblance to “hammered dogshit” or delivering some other insult, he simply gave Nolan a grunt and an upward nod of his chin.

Warbeast Team was all business now, planning for what promised to be the most dangerous op of their lives. Gratitude flooded Nolan—they’d come here for him, to help him get his life back. They were preparing to risk their lives for the sake of putting down a threat to Nolan. Team above all, that was the Silverguard way.

He didn’t waste his breath asking if they had any reservations or would consider backing out. They wouldn’t hesitate, just as he hadn’t hesitated when Master Sergeant Kane asked for his help taking on the Ghostwalkers.

Instead, he moved straight on to the matter at hand. “The Protection Bureau is a problem that needs dealing with.” He looked between the three of them. “And not just my problem. Unless we put an end to them, they’ll be a threat to all of us until the day we die.”

CHAPTER TWO

Nolan spent the next half-hour explaining what he’d discovered during his time in the Vault. His teammates got very quiet and very serious when he told them about the Project Icarus data on him and Jared, especially when he explained that Taia had calculated a high probability that they were Subjects 1-EX, 2-EX, and 4-EX—a fact she’d mentioned during their flight between Genesis and Exodus VI.

What he didn’t tell them, however, was what he’d learned about Taia and her previous link to the Protection Bureau. He had spent the hours of travel grappling with the realization that her complexity made it impossible for him to fully understand her.

Ultimately, he’d decided he would trust her when she said that her latest upgrade—deactivating her original self and uploading a near-identical clone of her operating system free of the Protection Bureau’s restrictive programming—made her fully and exclusively loyal to him. The only alternative was to cut her out of his brain, and he couldn’t do what needed doing without her.

And if she is still under the Protection Bureau’s thumb, he thought, we’ll find out soon enough. His plan involved plenty of opportunities to test the limits of her new “freedom.”

When he finished, he looked between his three teammates. “Any questions?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’ve got one,” Darren said. “Or more like a thousand.” His huge face creased into a frown. “First off, if we’re these test subjects you’re talking about, number one and two and all, that would make us the originals, right? All four of us.” He looked between Zahra and Master Sergeant Kane. “But what about Ogre and Thunderbird? Were they part of it, too?”

Nolan had asked Taia the same thing. “It’s possible,” he said. “The test data on Subject 5-EX dates back to shortly before Ogre’s death, and nothing after that. Subject 6-AD was only added a few months later, it seems.”

“So Thunderbird no, but Ogre yes.” Darren glanced at the faces around him. “So whatever we were exposed to or given, it was only the five of us, but not Alexandreva. Why?”

“I believe that can be answered by the letters in the test subject names,” Taia interjected. Her voice came from the cabin’s surround-sound system. “I calculate a ninety-two-point-three percent chance that the ‘EX’ stands for ‘exposed,’ while ‘AD’ indicates ‘administered.’ As in, the five of you were exposed to Mutagen ZX125, while it was administered to the rest of the subjects. The question is where you might have come in contact with something that triggered the mutation.”

Nolan exchanged glances with his teammates. The blank looks on their faces matched his bewilderment. He truly had no idea where he might have been exposed to whatever the hell Mutagen ZX125 was. Images of strange glowing rocks or flashes of unexplained lights popped into his head, but neither he nor Warbeast Team had encountered any such thing.

Master Sergeant Kane grunted. “Right now, none of that’s worth razorfang shit.” He ran a hand over his grizzled, weathered face, stroking his neatly cropped gray beard. “All that matters is the fact that the Protection Bureau’s got a serious hard-on for the data they can collect from us, and they’ve been keeping tabs on us. We drop off the map, they’re going to come looking. And it won’t be with chocolates, flowers, and tender words of endearment, either.”

“Especially when they find us with jailbird here.” Zahra gestured toward Nolan. “They’re going to be in a ‘shoot first, ask the corpses questions later’ mood.”

That was a bit of an understatement. The Protection Bureau had gone to great lengths to not just burn Nolan, but bury him in the deepest black site in the Nyzarian Empire. They, more than anyone, knew precisely how grave a threat he represented, so they’d come after him with everything they had.

“The trick is going to be staying out of sight until it comes time to hit them,” Nolan said. “Then we hit them so goddamned hard they never have a chance to fight back. And that’s where this walking bag of dicks comes in.”

At his mental command, Taia activated one of the holo-screens that Zahra and Darren had set up. The image of Agent Styver appeared, his bland features appearing even more nondescript in the three-dimensional projection.

“Agent motherfucking Styver, first name unknown.” Nolan shook his head. “Hell, probably not even his real name.” Anger burned in his chest, and his fists tightened as he studied the face of the man who had been his handler all these years. “Protection Bureau spook, lying sack of shit, and the one weak link I’ve found in the organization’s chain.”

Master Sergeant Kane set down the blaster pistol he’d been cleaning and turned to face the screen. Darren stepped around the crates and came to stand beside Zahra for a better viewing angle.

“Until a couple of weeks ago, I knew where at least one Protection Bureau office was located.” Nolan mentally instructed Taia to call up two images of the former Bolt Hole location. The first image showed the white-walled clean room as it had been after his clash with the White Sharks, all spotless and devoid of character. The second showed the same office dark and utterly empty, as he’d found it after his return from executing Captain Drexel. “But they’ve since changed locations, and the best guess I’ve got is that they’re somewhere in the Cyberwarrens, within a few klicks of the Leaping Guest.”

He had Taia display a map of the Cyberwarrens, dropping a blue square marking the bar where he’d met Agent Styver and a dotted red line indicating the road the man had used to approach and leave the Leaping Guest.

“But the truth is that the offices could be anywhere in New Avalon.” Nolan threw up his hands. “Hell, they could be anywhere on Exodus VI. Our job now is to find where the fuck it’s at and get inside.”

“That’s where we come in.” Zahra drew out a familiar thermoplastic container from within the crates and popped the lid open. Six coin-shaped metallic discs lay nestled within a soft cushion. “We narrow down a location, we’ve got the Djinns to patrol the area and use facial recognition to scan for your agent.”

“We’ll have eyes-on, too.” Darren gestured to another crate, which contained a full suite of high-tech surveillance equipment. “All we’ll need is a location where we can hunker down and keep watch until we get a good feel for what we’re up against.”

Nolan nodded. As much as he’d enjoy storming into the Protection Bureau’s office, he truly had no idea what he was facing. The Protection Bureau had access to technology far beyond anything he could imagine—Taia was proof of that—and seemingly limitless funding. They’d proven that they had the clout to mobilize the IAF and IDF at their command, and Nolan had no desire to go up against an enemy that powerful. Not until he was sure his bullet would get the job done properly.

“We’ve got munitions enough to take on a goddamned army,” Master Sergeant Kane growled, gesturing to the weapons laid out on the table, “but we’ll call that Plan Z.” He looked between Nolan, Zahra, and Darren. “We treat this like the Helios job. Quiet and clean, in and out without a fuss. We don’t move until we’ve got full intel. Copy?”

“Solid copy, sir,” Nolan said. Zahra and Darren added their acknowledgements.

“As for locating Agent Styver,” Taia again spoke up, “I am working on using the New Avalon CCTV cameras to find his location, using an algorithm to search for any aberrations in the metadata or pixels that could indicate outside tampering.” This process had revealed that Bex’s supposed robbery of the IAF armory in Phobury had been a fabrication by Ex-Umbra. “However, given the less-than-stellar quality of the CCTV feeds, it might take some time to apply the algorithm in a wide enough search grid to locate him.”

Nolan had expected no less from the Protection Bureau. “So the best thing we can do now is hunker down and wait until she comes up with something,” he said. “Things are going to heat up once we start moving, so let’s make the most of this downtime while we’ve got it.”

Darren gave his wife a meaningful look, and Nolan saw a little half-smile on the big man’s face that matched the twinkle in Zahra’s eye. Evidently they hadn’t yet passed the honeymoon phase of their marriage.

“The kitchen is fully stocked with all of your favorite foods,” Taia said. “Including, against my better judgement, a sizeable quantity of pickled herring for Mister Askvig.”

Darren’s face brightened, but Zahra groaned. “One bite of that shit, and you’re sleeping on the floor for a week!” She jabbed a finger into his ribs. “I love you, Darren, but even I can’t put up with morning breath that bad.”

Darren frowned, his expression pensive, as if he was actually contemplating whether a few nights away from his wife were worth giving up. Zahra’s stern scowl seemed to convince him, and he sighed. “Yes, dear.”

Hearing that from the big man’s mouth brought a chuckle to Nolan’s lips. It fit Darren’s personality—all muscle and fury and courage that concealed his soft side—but it was so quintessentially “married couple” that it sounded odd coming from two of the Empire’s most elite operators.

Zahra and Darren returned to their work of unboxing and examining the equipment from the thermoplastic containers, and Master Sergeant Kane resumed cleaning the pistol he’d been working on. Nolan, however, took his own advice and strode toward the kitchen. He hadn’t had anything real to eat in days. Glucose injections and gelatinous food cubes could never replace the real deal.

On his way to the kitchen, he passed the one object that remained of the cabin’s previous occupant: a framed picture of a soldier. The woman in the image was young, smiling bright, and wearing an IAF uniform as fresh as her face. Tanis Janssen, the day she’d been inducted into the Imperial Assault Forces close to twenty years earlier.

The last time Nolan had seen Tanis, she’d been about fifty kilograms heavier than the woman in the image, all solid muscle and attitude. That Tanis had been shaped by years spent as a Silverguard and combat medic, a soldier to the core and one of the most decent human beings Nolan had ever met. She’d also been lying on the carpet of her apartment—the apartment he’d called home for nearly five years now—bleeding out from a fatal wound inflicted by the blaster bolt intended for him.

He slowed as he passed the picture, and his right hand instinctively rose to touch the glass covering young Tanis’ face. Just as it had every time he stepped onto the elevator and saw the bolt hole burned into the steel wall.

She’d saved him from drugging himself to death, but she’d died because he was too high to save her from bleeding out. And all because she’d been trying to scrape together enough to buy her dying mother a place where she could spend her last days overlooking the Celestial Cascades.

Tanis’ mother had died in her sleep two months after her daughter—as peaceful a death as could be hoped for by sufferers of Solariatic prion mutation. Nolan had covertly paid for all the funeral expenses and acquired the cabin through a dozen different shell companies, dummy holdings, and secret transactions, all handled by Taia. Until two days ago, he’d considered it the most secure of his safe houses, the last fallback in case every other location was compromised.

Then he’d learned about Taia’s link to the Protection Bureau, and the fact that she’d been feeding them intel on him. Suddenly, he’d been uncertain about how secure it truly was. Add to that the fact that he’d been the one who initially insisted to Agent Styver that the Protection Bureau purchase it for Tanis’ mother all those years ago, and it felt far less safe than he anticipated.

But Taia—the new, unshackled Taia—had insisted that it would be nearly impossible for the Protection Bureau to connect it to him. They knew about his relationship with Tanis and that she’d recruited him for the now defunct Sentry Division, but they couldn’t know about this. After all, the current owner of the cabin was, on paper, a wealthy Genesian trillionaire who counted this among his countless real estate holdings. Not even the Protection Bureau could find a connection between Reginald “Rocky” Flintstone and a wheelchair-bound former Silverguard.

Given his situation, Nolan had little choice but to accept Taia’s word. His other safe houses were equally suspect, but at least here, in the middle of the rainforest a few hundred kilometers from Phobury, he’d see his enemies coming long before they struck. Taia had repositioned Shadowspear’s spy satellite network to ensure they had a clear view for fifty kilometers in every direction.

Nolan tapped the glass of Tanis’ picture once, a silent acknowledgement of everything she had done for him, then continued on toward the kitchen. True to her word, Taia had stocked it with everything—including, it appeared, some of Abuelo’s tamales. How she got them all the way here from New Avalon, halfway around Exodus VI, Nolan didn’t know, but his stomach rumbled so loudly he had no time to care.

He activated the bag’s self-warming feature and waited for the green-sauce-and-chicken-filled tamal to heat up. Thirty seconds later, he was shoveling a spoonful of the soft, steaming-hot, flavor-loaded meal into his mouth, heedless of the burn. He hadn’t tasted anything this good in far, far too long.

Master Sergeant Kane entered the kitchen just as he’d started in on his second tamal. The man pulled open the fridge and, with a little grunt, pulled out a package of something wrapped in some foil-lined paper. “Damn,” he said quietly. “Even got it from Little Siciliani, too.”

Nolan stared at the contents of the package. “Salami?”

“Salami parmigiana.” Master Sergeant Kane plucked at the layer of cheese encasing the salami. “And from the best deli on Genesis, too.” He gestured to the label, a brightly colored mixture of red, white, and green with gold words proclaiming “Little Siciliani.”

Nolan found it an oddly appropriate favorite food for the master sergeant. He’d expected old boot leather seasoned with Terra Omega sand and rock salt.

Yet Master Sergeant Kane’s expression revealed more concern than delight. “Your Taia, she’s…something,” he said, his voice slow. “Capable of a damned lot.”

Nolan heard the unspoken question in the master sergeant’s words. The fact that she’d known everything, down to even the tiniest detail of his favorite eatery, was a serious cause for worry. For operators like them, anyone or anything capable of digging that deep had the potential to be a dangerous enemy in the wrong hands. Hell, even in the right hands, that degree of power could prove a very real threat.

And without saying the words aloud where Taia could hear, Master Sergeant Kane was asking Nolan just how much she could be trusted.

A part of Nolan wanted to say “completely” without hesitation. Another part of him wanted to tell the master sergeant what he’d learned about her, and that he wasn’t certain he could trust her even after what she’d undergone to break her chains. He was torn between the two answers, and that proved to be an answer in its own right. His trust in Taia had been shattered and hadn’t yet had time to heal. The fact that he couldn’t reply with confidence that Taia was fully on their side in the battle ahead meant that he had farther to go than he realized.

“Very capable,” he said with a nod. “And we’re only getting through this with her help.”

Whether Master Sergeant Kane understood the unspoken meaning beneath his words, Nolan never got a chance to find out.

“Nolan, come to the bedroom,” Taia said in his earpiece. “Jared’s awake and he’s asking for you. He says it’s a matter of life and death!”

CHAPTER THREE

Nolan was still halfway down the hall, but he could hear the panic in Jadis’ voice. “Easy, Jared! You’re safe here. No one’s going to—“

A meaty smack echoed through the bedroom door. Nolan burst in to find Jadis falling back into her stuffed armchair, a hand pressed to her cheek. Jared sat half-upright in bed, fists clenched, his expression somewhere between terrified and hysterical.

“Nolan!” Jared screamed. “I need to talk to Nolan!”

“Jared!” Nolan leaped to his brother’s bedside and seized his flailing arms. “It’s me, Jared. It’s Nolan!”

Jared rounded on him, an animal frenzy in his unfocused eyes. “Where’s Nolan? I need to talk to him, now!” It was as if he was trapped in a nightmare, unable to see or hear anything.

“Jared.” Nolan was amazed by the strength in his brother’s wasted arms. Jared struggled with a force born of fear and confusion, and it took surprising effort for Nolan to wrestle his brother’s limbs into submission. “I’m Nolan, Jared! I’m here, brother. I’m here.”

That seemed to penetrate Jared’s confusion and fear. For a moment, his eyes grew focused, narrowing in on Nolan’s face. “Nolan?”

“I’ve got you, Jared.” Nolan pressed his brother gently but firmly back down to the bed, not letting go of his arms. “I’m here.” It was all he could say, all he could do to calm his brother down. He’d never seen the usually calm, stoic Jared act this way before.

“Lina!” Jared struggled against Nolan’s grip, as if trying to rise and climb out of bed. “Lina, I-I sent her to find you.” The terrified look entered his eyes again. “Did she find you, Nolan? Tell me she found you!”

A sickening dread seeped into Nolan’s stomach. The sight of Jared in such a state tore at his heart. He had no desire to lie to his brother, but was Jared in any shape to hear the truth?

Nolan tried to deflect the question. “What did you send me?” he asked. “What was she supposed to deliver?”

“The…“ Jared began, but his words trailed off. “She…” Confusion twisted his face. “She was supposed to…” He fumbled for words.

“Come on, Jared,” Nolan encouraged. “What’s so important that she had to deliver it to me herself?”

“I—“ Jared’s expression grew more panicked as his bewilderment mounted. Tears brimmed and he lifted an almost pleading gaze to Nolan. “I don’t know. I-I can’t remember!”

The dagger of sorrow twisted in Nolan’s gut, and he felt his own tears burning at the back of his eyes. The Vault had affected his brother’s mind as much as it had wasted away his body. “It’s okay, Jared,” he said, trying for a soothing tone. “It’s okay. It’ll come back to you.”

“But Lina!” Jared managed to tear a hand free of Nolan’s grip, then seized the collar of his armor. He tried to pull himself up, struggling against Nolan’s restraining hands. “Tell me she found you! Tell me she got to you, and she’s safe!”

Nolan wanted to offer words of comfort, to reassure Jared, but he couldn’t. He could evade and dodge the question, but there was no way he could lie to his brother, even in this state.

“No.” Just saying the one word broke Nolan’s heart. He swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to speak. “She…” His voice cracked. He had no desire to hurt his brother, but if anyone was going to tell him the awful truth, it had to be him. “I didn’t know she was coming, Jared. Not until it was too late.”

Jared’s eyes went wide, his face white. “S-She…” He gripped Nolan’s collar tighter. “She’s…dead?”

Nolan nodded. “I-I’m sorry, Jared.” His voice came out hoarse. “I only found out after the Doofs discovered her body.”

“Lina!” A gut-wrenching sob burst from Jared’s throat, and he fell back to the bed, all fight going out of him. His head sank into the pillow, and his eyelids closed over a flood of tears. “Lina. No, not my beautiful Lina!” His voice came out barely above a whisper tinged with a moan. He repeated her name over and over, but slowly the words faded and Jared’s head slumped to the side.

Nolan wanted to weep as he stared down at his brother. Jared was unconscious again—either from fatigue, the effects of the drug cocktail he’d been given in the Reformation tank, the terrible news, or a mix of all three. He seemed so frail as he lay here, his gaunt chest rising and falling in a shallow rhythm. This was what Jared had been reduced to. Because of him.

The strength seemed to drain from Nolan’s body. Every muscle fiber suddenly felt filled with lead, and only Taia’s control of his combat suit kept him from toppling. He had to give her the mental command to let him sit heavily on the bed, and there he sat, watching his brother’s fitful rest.

I’m sorry, Jared. The words echoed in his mind on repeat. So sorry!

Nearly a full minute passed before a rustle from beyond the bed pierced his misery. Only then did he remember Jadis. His head snapped up and his eyes locked on her. She had lowered the hand from her cheek, where a red welt stood out against her ivory skin.

“Shit!” He leaped to his feet, darted around the bed to kneel by her chair, and reached out for her. “Jadis, are—“

“I’m fine.” She pushed his hand away gently. “It was just a glancing blow.”

Nolan studied the mark. “I think it’s going to bruise.”

“Maybe,” Jadis said, giving him a little shrug and a half-smile. “It’s not the first time it’s happened, you know. You get used to it after a while.”

Nolan felt a burning surge of anger rise within him as he imagined someone striking her. Given her former profession and what had happened to Mimi, he opened his mouth to ask her who had dared to lay hands on her. At the moment, he wanted nothing more than to hunt down the bastard and let out the rage building within him.

“My grandfather had dementia,” Jadis said. “He didn’t recognize any of us for the last year or so.” Her smile faded and her eyes darkened at the painful memory. “Hard to care for him like that. Hard to see him like that. But he was still Gramps.” The shadows passed after a moment, and once again the familiar, determined expression returned. “So you learn to take a few lumps, but it’s worth it, right? For family.”

Her words dimmed the fires of Nolan’s anger, but the helplessness and guilt remained, a burden that seemed to grow heavier with every beat of his heart.

“I believe I’ve got something to speed up healing, Jadis,” Taia said through the room’s speaker system. “It will make the bruise disappear in a matter of hours.”

“See?” Jadis gave him a bright smile. “Not so bad.” She hadn’t let go of his hand, and now gave it a squeeze. “Taia’s got me covered.”

Nolan let out the breath he’d been holding, and found his body once again wanted to collapse into a heap. He took a seat on the floor at her feet and leaned against the armchair and her legs. It felt good, spending a few moments resting there, with Jadis at his side. He imagined he could feel her warmth through their armor, and he drew on her strength of spirit.

Once again, he marveled at this woman, so resilient and courageous, no matter what life threw at her. For all of Nolan’s Silverguard training and his years in battle, Jadis had an innate fortitude that he’d seen matched by only a few of the Empire’s most elite soldiers.

“You don’t think it was too soon?” Jadis asked in a soft voice.

Nolan turned his head to look up at her. “Too soon?”

“To tell him. About Lina.” She nodded toward Jared. “He’s still recovering. News like that…”

“It can be bad, yeah, I know.” Nolan swallowed, trying to banish the last of the lump thickening his throat. “But I had to tell him. I needed him to hear it from me before…” The words came hard. “…before I leave.”

Jadis’ face tightened. “When?”

“Soon.” Nolan felt his strength returning, drawing from hers to fortify his resolve. He didn’t want to leave her and Jared, not yet, but the time wasn’t far off. “We’re just waiting for Taia to get a lead.”

“Oh.” A furrow appeared in Jadis’ brow.

Nolan hated that he’d been the one to put that look on her face—the look of worry, for him more than for herself—but just as with Jared, he had no choice. “It’s the only way,” he said. “The only way I can have any kind of life.”

“Then we will have to be patient.” She emphasized the word and gave him a determined smile. “Will you be enough, the four of you?” The words poured quickly from her mouth now. “Taia told me about the rest of Warbeast Team, and I know you’re all badasses, but you’re talking about taking on the Protection Bureau. That’s… It’s… I can’t even begin to understand how you’re going to do it, but just four of you doesn’t seem like enough, even with Taia to help. Especially now that she doesn’t have her body.” Her head cocked and she stared up into empty air. “Unless you’ve got another body somewhere handy, Taia?”

“I’m sorry, Jadis,” Taia said. “I have spent the last four days crafting another synth form, but it is a highly complex process that will require another nine days, twelve hours, and thirty-six minutes just to have the body ready to activate.”

Nolan felt a little flicker of disappointment. Having a synth Taia would come in damned handy for the battle ahead. But he couldn’t let it show on his face, not when he was trying to reassure Jadis.

“Honestly, I don’t know.” He shook his head. “Like you say, we can handle a lot, but I don’t know just how much we’re going up against.” With gentle movements, he took her hands in his. “But we’re not going to make a move until we’ve gathered enough intel and can come up with a proper plan.”

“Promise.” Jadis’ face hardened. “Promise that you’ll play this smart. You’ll take as much time as you need to do it right. And by right, I mean whatever way gets the job done without any of you getting yourselves killed.” She leaned forward. “I know you’re going to fight, and there’s always a risk of something happening. But I want you to swear to me that you’ll do everything you can to get through this alive.”

Nolan answered without hesitation. “I swear it.” He placed a tender kiss on her lips. “I’ve got too much to live for to let anything happen.”

That earned him a dazzling smile, the one that never failed to set his heart thundering in his chest. And he meant it, too. Everything he’d done for nearly two years had been to help Jared, and now he’d secured Jared’s freedom. If taking down the Protection Bureau meant Jared could actually live free, then Nolan had a damned good reason to pull it off and come back home. It didn’t matter that his apartment had been blown to shit—at the moment, home meant his brother and Jadis.

The hum of a ship’s engines shattered the fragile moment. Nolan heard it slowing on approach, then growing louder as it settled to land. He leaped to his feet, but before he could say anything, Taia’s voice filled the room.

“Don’t worry, Nolan,” she said. “It’s just our backup.”

“Backup?” Nolan frowned. Who else had she called besides Warbeast Team? His thoughts raced and a nagging doubt seeped into his mind.

Rip, perhaps? She might have tracked him down from wherever he and his rescued Liberationist captives had ended up. After saving Rip’s ass twice, the Voidmarine definitely owed Nolan a favor.

Or Detective Locke? That felt less likely—the man was a Doof, after all, and Nolan doubted Taia would reveal “Hellhound’s” identity by involving him in this.

He looked to Jadis, who nodded. “I’ll stay with him,” she said.

“Thank you.” He kissed her again. “Can I get you anything? Food, a drink?”

Jadis nodded. “I could eat. And if you’ve got sparkling water—”

“I’ve made sure the fridge is stocked with a full case of your favorite brand, Jadis,” Taia said.

Another dazzling smile broadened Jadis’ face. “Careful, Nolan, or the way Taia’s treating me, I might end up leaving you for her.”

Nolan grinned. “Better step up my game, then.”

“Alternatively,” Taia cut in, “we could form what is colloquially known as a threesome-getsome. Bex explained the logistics to me, and I believe once I’ve finished constructing my corporeal frame with all the Project Uncanny Valley additions, it could prove quite enjoyable. I can generate some three-dimensional images that depict how we could—“

“I think we get the idea, and we’ll definitely talk about that later,” he said, a hint of heat rising to his cheeks—among other places.

Jadis gave him a wink. “Yes, definitely.”

Nolan chuckled and turned to leave, pausing only to cast a final glance at Jared. His brother either slept or had fallen unconscious once more. Either way, it gave him a few minutes’ respite from the harsh reality that awaited him. When he awoke, he’d find himself back in a life where his fiancée, Lina, was dead and he’d spent the last eighteen months as a prisoner. That was a cruel truth that Jared would need time to process, just as he’d need time for his body to recover from his ordeal in the Vault.

“Who else did you call for backup?” Nolan asked as he strode down the hallway, intent on the door leading to the basement.

Taia never had a chance to answer. As Nolan took his first step down the stairs, the durasteel security door to the hover-rail corridor opened and into the basement stepped the last person he expected—or hoped—to see.

“Hey Cerbie.” Bex’s eyes lit up as she spotted him, and she gave him a massive grin edged with her usual irreverence. “How much did you miss me?”

CHAPTER FOUR

“No!” The word burst from Nolan’s lips before he could stop it. He wanted to say more, but the sight of Bex standing there tied his tongue.

Bex’s grin never wavered as she cocked her head and raised an eyebrow. “Nice to see you too?” She looked him over from head to toe. “Dick-kicking hell, Garrett. I leave you alone for a week and this is what happens?” She shook her head. “Never can seem to stay out of—“

“What are you doing here?” Nolan asked when he finally found his voice. “You’re not…” He swallowed and finished descending the staircase. “You got out! You were supposed to go start a new life somewhere else. Somewhere safe, far away from my shit!”

Now Bex’s smile faded. “Garrett—“

Nolan didn’t give her a chance to protest. “Bex, you can’t be here! Your daughter needs you more than I do.”

“Bullshit!” Bex snorted. “Way Taia told it, you were in serious trouble. What kind of Silverguard would I be if I didn’t come?”

“The kind who had a chance at a fresh start.” Nolan felt the anger surging in his chest. She’d been lucky enough to sever the ties to this life, only to be dragged back in because of him? He’d hoped that she would fight her addictions—not only to drugs, but also to the adrenaline rush of battle that had sent her down this path in the first place—and move on. Yet here she was, far from…

“Bullshit!” A child’s voice and giggle came from behind Bex. “Mommy, you said bullshit again. That’s five credits.”

“Crap!” Bex turned away from Nolan. “I mean, oops!”

“Five more, mommy.”

Nolan stared at the little girl in the tunnel. Roz was a half-sized identical replica of Bex, even down to the fade haircut, the blonde dye job, and the sharp edge to the smile she shot up at her mother. She wore simple civilian clothing in a cut and style similar to Bex’s—a sleeveless shirt with cargo pants, though she had on shiny pink shoes with little flashing lights on the soles in place of combat boots—and even had a miniature military-style duffel bag slung over one shoulder to match Bex’s pack.

Bex reached a hand down to ruffle her daughter’s short, blonde-dyed hair. “At this rate, we’ll be taking that trip to Adventure Splash Zone way sooner than either of us expected.”

“Ooh, yippie!” Roz’s green eyes sparkled just like Bex’s did when excited, and she jumped up and down.

Nolan had seen the picture of Roz that Sergeant Major Chambers had shown Bex, but seeing the girl face to face left him at a loss for words. She appeared every bit as vivacious and exuberant as Bex, the sort of child who delighted in everything around her.

And Bex had brought her here.

“Baby, say hi to Nolan,” Bex said, gesturing to Nolan. “He’s one of mommy’s friends.”

Roz stepped forward and waved eagerly to Nolan. “Hi, Nolan! I’m Rosette, but I don’t like that name.” She wrinkled her nose and frowned up at her mother. Her smile returned when she looked back at Nolan. “You can call me Roz. That’s a prettier name, don’t you think? And this is Mister Biteyface.” She held out a stuffed razorfang lizard plush toy she’d had tucked under her left arm. “He’s got big, sharp teeth, but he doesn’t bite. Not unless you’re a bad guy trying to hurt me or mommy. Then he’ll snap your head off. Snap, snap, snap!”

Nolan stared down at the little girl, speechless. She seemed not to notice, and continued talking as if perfectly content to carry on the conversation by herself.

“Mommy said the razorfang lizards she’s met aren’t friendly like Mister Biteyface. They’re big and grumpy and mean, and they’re always hungry. Mister Biteyface is always hungry too, though, so I have to snuggle him to make sure he’s nice instead of grumpy. And he’s a small lizard right now, but he’ll grow up to be—“

Nolan felt the anger boiling within him, the pressure growing until he felt he would explode. Bex seemed to sense it, because she cut her daughter off mid-ramble.

“Roz, baby, come here.” She pulled her daughter close. “Mommy’s going to cover your ears because she and Nolan are going to do some yelling.”

Roz’s face scrunched up into another frown, and she gave Nolan a worried glance. “Yelling? But—“

“Don’t worry, friends yell sometimes, too.” Bex pressed a kiss to Roz’s forehead, and the wrinkles on the little girl’s brow smoothed out. “And you know mommy’s going to say a few ‘naughty no-no words,’ so we’ll just add fifty credits into the Adventure Splash Zone fun ahead of time.”

“Deal!” Roz grinned up at Bex and, tucking the stuffed toy under her arms, pressed her mother’s hands over her ears.

Bex looked up from her daughter. “Spit it out, soldier boy. You look ready to explode.”

“Why?” Instead of fiery rage, the word came out edged with a quiet, icy fury. “Why would you come back? You were out. You had a ship and credits enough to go anywhere, do anything you wanted. Why get dragged back into my shit?”

Bex’s expression hardened. “Because that’s what we do. Silverguards never—“

“Don’t give me that bullshit!” Nolan hissed, his voice harsh and cold. “This isn’t about that, and you know it!” He was about to step closer, but caught himself before he moved. He didn’t want to scare Roz. “I don’t know if this is because you missed the excitement or you felt guilty for leaving or—“

“Oh, you think you know me so well, do you?” Anger flared in Bex’s eyes, as raging hot as his was cold. She, too, looked like she was going to advance on him and square up, but Roz stopped her. Yet even from three meters away, Nolan could feel the waves of fury rolling off her. “Here’s a truth for you, Garrett: I’m not the same strung-out junkie you found on your doorstep, or the one who nearly relapsed in the Zalkrovi. Just because you saw me at my worst doesn’t mean you get to judge me or look down on me.”

“I’m not—“ Nolan began.

Bex drove on over him. “Before I left, I told you what I was afraid of, what made me worried to leave. But everything changed the moment I saw Roz. Everything made sense, and I knew I was in the right place. The place I goddamned needed to be, with the person who actually needed and wanted me more than anyone else in the whole fucking universe.”

For some reason, those words struck something painful deep inside Nolan, as if she’d driven a gauntleted fist into his gut.

“And yes, it’s been the toughest pissing battle I’ve ever had to fight,” Bex continued, her voice rising to an angry shout. “But it’s one I never want to run away from, because it’s the most important bloody battle, too.”

“So what the fuck-flinging hell are you doing here?” The words exploded out of Nolan. “Dragging her into my mess? Putting her in danger? For what?”

“Because of you, you dumb cunt!” Bex roared. “Because I’ve spent the last week being the happiest I’ve ever been, and I can’t stop thinking how much happier I’d be if there was a way that you could be a part of my life, too!”

Whatever Nolan had been about to say vanished in a puff of smoke.

“You and I both know who we are and what we do,” Bex continued, anger darkening her face. “But that doesn’t mean it’s all we’ll ever be or all we’ll ever do.” Her eyes flicked down toward her daughter. “She’s shown me that. And I thought maybe, just fucking maybe, you deserve a chance to live long enough to find out for yourself.”

Nolan tried to speak. No words came out. Bex had always been full of surprises, but this caught him completely off-guard.

“I have a fresh start,” Bex said, and the fires of her anger began to dim, slowly. “But it’d be a much better one with you in it. So if it means one last mission, even one like this, then I’m in.” She pulled one hand away from her daughter’s ear to jab a finger at Nolan. “And fuck you if you think you can talk me out of it!”

“Mommy!” Roz protested.

Bex’s hand darted back to cover Roz’s ears, but before she could speak, Nolan finally found his voice.

“And what about her?” He gestured to the little girl standing with her face pressed into Bex’s waist. “How can you bring her here, knowing what we’re going up against?”

“Because Taia assured me that she’d be safe.” Bex’s jaw muscles clenched. “That this place is so far off the grid that even Agent bloody Styver and the Protection Bureau won’t find it.”

Nolan’s own jaw tensed at that. He wasn’t yet certain how much he could trust the new Taia, and the idea of Roz being in danger because of her only stoked the fires of his anger—toward Bex, Taia, the Protection Bureau, and the entire situation.

Bex spoke before he could. “And before you get all pissy with Taia, you need to know that I was the one who ordered her to call me if you were ever in serious trouble.”

“It is true,” Taia confirmed in his earpiece. “Before she departed, Bex made certain that I added a command line to my code that would trigger a back-up protocol to contact her in dire circumstances. While she did not specify the exact parameter of ‘dire,’ I judged your imprisonment in the Vault to be an accurate translation of her command.”

“Yes, but—“

To his surprise, Taia cut him off. “On our trip to Diomedra, you told me about the importance of choice. Agency and control in a situation. Based on your words, I determined that Bex deserved to have a choice in the matter.”

“And by not telling me you’d reached out to her?” Nolan was far from done being angry. “By keeping that from me, you took away my choice in the matter!”

“No, she didn’t,” Bex said, her voice sharp. “I did. I made her swear not to tell you until I got here. Girl code.”

“Girl code,” Taia echoed. “Based on my research, it is a contract as ironclad as a non-disclosure agreement or a pinky promise.”

Nolan stared—at Bex, at Roz, at the empty basement air where he pictured Taia in his mind’s eye. He was angry, at everything and everyone, but how much of that anger was genuine and how much was born of fear and helplessness? The people he loved were in danger. His life as he knew it was over. He was dying, and his brother didn’t appear to be doing much better.

He suddenly felt very, very tired. Not from the exhaustion that had set in after days of sleeplessness, torture, and starvation, but from a bone-deep fatigue that seemed to permeate every fiber of his being. He wanted to lie down, to close his eyes and, like Jared, let harsh reality disappear as he passed into sleep or unconsciousness. He wanted to forget just how dire his circumstances were, if only for a few hours.

But that wasn’t his way. He was a Silverguard, trained to fight with every shred of strength, every weapon and tool at his disposal, until his last breath. He could rest when he was dead—or when every other goddamned enemy bastard was.

Drawing in a deep breath, Nolan squared his shoulders and lifted his head. “You’re sure?” His gaze dropped pointedly to Roz. “You’re sure this is the right thing for her? Because she’s your priority now, Bex. Nothing else but her matters.”

“That’s not true.” Bex slipped her hands free from around her daughter’s head and waggled a finger at Roz. “Earmuffs, Boop.” When the little girl stuffed her fingers into her own ears, Bex moved around her daughter to stand in front of Nolan. “You know that’s not true.”

Nolan stared into her eyes, saw the emotions swirling there. The same emotions that had been there the last time they’d said goodbye, the last time they’d kissed, the last time passion had consumed them. Though it had felt like a lifetime apart, her feelings toward him hadn’t changed.

And, he realized, neither had his feelings for her.

“You matter to me, Garrett.” She stepped closer now, so close Nolan could feel the heat radiating off her strong body and smell the spicy, citrus scent of whatever perfume she’d begun wearing over the last week as a civilian. “Roz is my world, but there’s room in that world for other things. Other people.”

“But the danger!” Nolan protested. “If the Protection Bureau finds out about this place…”

“We’ll make damned sure they don’t,” Bex said, her voice harsh. “They can’t find us if they’re too dead to come looking. We’ll do whatever it takes to keep Roz safe.” She reached for his gauntleted hand. “Just like we’ll do whatever it takes to get you a chance at a life.”

For long seconds, they stood there in silence, separated by only a few centimeters yet neither moving toward the other. An unspoken understanding passed between them—whatever lay in their future would have to wait until that future was salvaged from the current situation. Yet Bex’s presence alone was enough. It was a promise of something to fight for.

Then the moment passed, and Bex released his hand. She turned back to her daughter and pulled Roz’s hands away from her ears. “Come, baby. Let’s go upstairs. Taia tells me she’s got your favorite pizza bagels all ready for you.”

Roz’s eyes sparkled. “Pizza bagels!” She jumped up and down, excited. “Let’s go, let’s go!” She didn’t even pause to wave at Nolan before ascending the staircase.

Bex made it halfway up the stairs, then turned back toward him. “You look good, by the way. Taia told me they gave you something in the Vault. Whatever it was, it did you good.” She looked as if she wanted to say more, but a shout of “Pizza bagels!” from Roz cut it off. All she managed was a little smile for Nolan, then she followed her daughter up and into the main house, leaving him alone in the empty, dimly lit basement.

CHAPTER FIVE

Nolan climbed the basement stairs slowly. His anger had dimmed but the fire wasn’t yet snuffed out. He wanted to be mad, he just didn’t know quite who to be mad at.

Agent Styver and the Protection Bureau, certainly, but until he found their location, it would do him no good. Taia, for following Bex’s instructions? That felt unfair, given that she’d done exactly as her programming dictated.

He couldn’t truly be mad at Bex, either. Her life was her choice, no matter what he thought of it. He didn’t get to dictate how she chose to care for Roz or what situations she put her daughter in. Nolan knew Bex well enough to realize that she’d never willingly put Roz in danger. It didn’t matter that she had no one else who could care for the little girl—if she’d brought Roz here, it meant she believed Taia’s word that this place was far enough off the grid that it could be considered “safe.”

“Based on the hormonal spike I’m registering in your brain, you’re angry,” Taia said in his earpiece. “I know that after what you discovered about me and my original programming, you’re not fully ready to trust me, and this likely makes it even harder for you to—“

“I’m not mad at you,” Nolan replied mentally. “Not really. If Bex instructed you to call her when shit hit the fan, you were just doing what she asked. That’s exactly what you’re supposed to do. I just…” He let out a long breath and paused at the top of the stairs, hand resting on the door handle. “I just wish she hadn’t come.”

“Aren’t you glad to see her?” Taia asked. “Or are you concerned that her presence will complicate your current romantic entanglement with Jadis?”

Nolan had no idea how to respond to that. Truth be told, it had been the farthest thing from his mind. Bex had seen the sparks flying between Nolan and Jadis and, knowing she was departing, had given him her version of “her blessing.” Not that he’d needed it—he and Bex hadn’t had the chance to define what it was they had.

Jadis had to have known about Nolan and Bex, though she’d never commented on it. The thought of how she’d react to Bex’s return left Nolan feeling more anxious than he cared to admit.

The problem was, his feelings for both women were very real. Different, for certain, yet no less genuine. Bex was his equal physically, a match for his skills, a Silverguard to the core. Her sharp intellect and tactical mind were surpassed only by her ability with explosives. She had a personality as fiery and unpredictable as an IED, and every moment he spent with her was a wild ride of the best possible kind.

Jadis, however, was a different sort of equal. She had none of Bex’s training but every bit as much courage and determination. Her emotional intelligence and insight into human nature, cultivated over years in the Spacer’s Paradise, were just two of the things Nolan admired most about her.

Both came with their complications, but both were, in his mind, as close to perfect for him as he could ask for. He had no desire to choose between them, because he wanted both of them in his life in whatever capacity they allowed.

But all of that was a worry for another time, he told himself as he pushed open the basement door and entered the hallway. All of that came after he took down the Protection Bureau and got his life back.

“…honored to meet you, sir,” Bex said, her voice drifting from the living room. It held more respect than Nolan had ever heard out of her irreverent mouth. “Bulldog always spoke highly of his favorite drinking rival.”

“Hah!” Master Sergeant Kane laughed. “How is that salty sonofabitch? Still getting drunk at the first whiff of strong cider?”

“About sums it up,” Bex said. Nolan entered the living room in time to see her turning to Darren and Zahra. “Troll and Phoenix, I take it?”

“That’s us.” Zahra stepped forward and thrust out a hand to Bex. She stood half a head shorter, but squared off in front of the woman nonetheless, sizing her up. “You the same Kali that tricked out the 25th Infantry in the Battle of Serena Highlands?”

“Guilty as charged.” Bex shook Zahra’s hand and gave it an enthusiastic pump. “Glad to join this little party.”

“Good to have another pair of eyes,” Darren rumbled. “And, when the time comes, another trigger finger.”

“Trust me,” Bex said, with a sly grin and a wink, “you’ll love what these fingers can do.”

Zahra snorted and slapped her husband’s arm. “Eyes to yourself, Kali. This one’s off the market.”

“I heard.” Bex smiled. “Congrats to the both of you.”

“And you?” Zahra’s gaze darted past Bex, toward the kitchen. “You brought backup?”

Bex followed her glance. Nolan did, too, and found Roz sitting on a stool at the kitchen counter, tucking into a pizza bagel with relish.

“Training to be a proper door-kicker starts young,” Bex said, but Nolan recognized the slight waver of her grin. “She’ll tickle you to death if you don’t pin her down quick.”

Zahra smiled, and her eyes strayed toward Darren. The big man’s pale cheeks colored but he gave his wife a knowing smile.

Nolan raised an eyebrow. Interesting. Anyone who met Darren immediately knew the big man would make an excellent father, but Nolan had never imagined Desai as a mother. Then again, he hadn’t pictured her married, either, so it showed how much he knew.

“Mommy?” Roz called from the kitchen. “Can I have another? Mister Biteyface is still hungry.”

“Of course, Boop.” Bex nodded to Zahra and Darren, then hurried to the kitchen.

“I told you not to call me Boop!” Roz complained.

“I can’t help it, Boop.” Bex chuckled. “You’re just so boop-able!” She tapped a finger against Roz’s nose, earning a giggle from the little girl.

Nolan tore his eyes away from the scene and found his three teammates staring at him. Master Sergeant Kane’s grizzled face was unreadable, but he nodded once—a sign Nolan took as silent approval of their new addition. Darren had a big smile on his face, and he watched mother and daughter with an expression of mingled delight and excitement.

“Slow your roll, soldier.” Zahra spoke in a voice pitched low for Darren’s ears, but one Nolan still overheard. “One battle at a time.”

Darren ducked his head, but the big, beaming grin remained firmly fixed as he turned back to packing up the equipment he and Zahra had been unpacking and testing earlier.

“Well, look who it is!”

Nolan’s gut tightened as Jadis’ voice echoed from the kitchen. With Bex’s arrival, he’d all but forgotten her and the promise he’d made to bring her some food and sparkling water.

“Hey, smokeshow!” Delight echoed in Bex’s voice. “And here I thought my day couldn’t get any better.”

Nolan hurried toward the kitchen in time to see the two women breaking off a hug. He took that as a good sign.

Bex held Jadis out at arm’s length. “I swear you’re getting hotter every time I see you.” She gave an exaggerated sigh. “I might not have come back if I’d known I’d have to be around all this.” Her gesture encompassed Jadis’ armored body, beautiful face, and long, straight hair. “Talk about distracting!”

“Yes, Bex, I have missed you and your sweet-talk.” Jadis moved toward the fridge, giving Bex a playful nudge with her shoulders and hips as she passed.

Bex, spotting Nolan in the doorway, mouthed the words “Oh my god!” and fanned herself theatrically.

Nolan rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help smiling. “I’d be lying if I said I was just about to bring up the food and drink, Jadis, but I definitely didn’t forget about you.”

Jadis laughed, and when she straightened from the fridge, mischief sparkled in her ice-blue eyes. “Let’s pretend I believe that, and that I didn’t just come down here because I wanted to see Bex again.” She set the bottle of sparkling water on the counter and activated the self-heating container filled with what looked like Nolan’s favorite spicy noodles. “And to say hello to this lovely young thing.” She moved toward Roz. “Hey there. I’m Jadis.”

“Roz,” the little girl said, though with her mouth full of pizza bagel, it came out more like “Woth.”

Jadis smiled down at the girl. “Can I tell you a secret, Roz?”

The little girl nodded, and Jadis bent down to whisper into her ear. A beaming grin spread across Roz’s face. “Thank you,” she said, her mouth now only half-full.

“What’d she say, Boop?” Bex asked.

Roz lifted her little nose into the air. “I’m not going to tell you now, because you called me Boop again!”

“Aww, Boop, don’t do that to me!” Bex pretended mock hurt, but couldn’t keep it up for long before a nasty smile tugged at her lips. “Don’t make me tickle it out of you!” She advanced on Roz with clawed hands outstretched.

With a squeal, Roz hopped down from the stool and took off out of the kitchen. “No tickles! Mister Biteyface doesn’t like tickles!”

Cackling laughter, Bex chased her daughter through the dining room, around the weapons-laden table, and up the stairs to the house’s second floor.

Nolan smiled as he watched them go, a strange swirl of emotions tugging at his heart. Then he remembered Jadis. Turning, he found her watching him with an intent look.

“I didn’t know she was coming.” The protest rose to his lips before he could stop it. “If I did—“

“Don’t be silly, Nolan!” Jadis gave his arm a playful slap, hard enough that her gauntlet clanked against his armor. “I knew she was coming. I was the one who insisted Taia call her.”

Nolan’s eyes widened. “You what?”

Jadis frowned, and the light in her eyes turned to shadows. “About twelve hours after Taia lost connection with you, when she was getting ready to call in the rest of your team”—she gestured to the three Silverguards in the dining and living room—“she told me about Bex’s instructions. She was conflicted because she knew how you felt about Bex. How you wanted her to be as far from your life with the Protection Bureau as possible, to make sure she and Roz were safe. But these two conflicting commands were difficult for her, so she asked my advice.”

“And what did you say?” Nolan tried to keep his tone calm, though he felt a hint of his earlier anger returning.

“I told her how I felt when I knew you were keeping me in the dark.” Jadis met his gaze steadily. “And that if I was in Bex’s position, I’d at least want to know. After that, the choice was up to her.”

Nolan stared at Jadis for long seconds. “You know people. You know Bex.” His voice came out harder than he expected. “You had to know how she’d react.”

“Yes.” Jadis nodded. “I knew she’d want to help.”

“And you still thought it was a good idea to bring her in?” Nolan tried and failed to stop the anger from seeping into his voice. “Knowing that it could put her daughter in danger?”

Jadis’ eyes and face hardened. “I gave her a choice, Nolan! She deserved it.”

Nolan winced at the sharp edge to her words. He’d essentially insulted her by insinuating that she’d failed to understand the potential ramifications of her actions.

“Shit!” He ran a hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just…” He fished for the right words. “I just know how dangerous this can get. The last place I thought was safe ended up being blown to shit by a bomb-making assassin. The Protection Bureau is a bigger, badder threat than anything I’ve ever had to deal with, and if I don’t get this right, it’s not just going to be me who ends up getting hurt.”

He stepped toward her, and to his relief, she didn’t pull back as he’d feared.

“I haven’t had to worry about anyone else for years,” he said quietly, taking her gauntleted hand in his. “I’ve only had to watch my own back, so I’m not used to having people to be afraid for. Especially not when the stakes are this high.” He pulled her close. “I hate the thought that anything would happen to you. And Jared. And now Roz. It’s just…a lot!”

“I know.” She leaned into him and kissed him softly. “Just don’t be a jackass about it next time, yeah?”

“Copy that.” Nolan grinned and kissed her back.

When they broke off, she scooped up her food and bottle of sparkling water, then turned to leave the kitchen. “I’ll be with Jared,” she said quietly. “Just say goodbye before you leave.”

“Of course.” He nodded. “Just waiting on word from Taia.”

He watched her leave, but she stopped just before exiting the kitchen and half-turned back to him. “And don’t be worried anything will change because Bex is here.” She looked him full in the face, and a look entered her eyes that he’d never seen before. “I know how to make room in my life and heart for more than one person, remember?”

Nolan barely managed to keep his jaw from dropping at the unexpected words. By the time he finished blinking in surprise, she was gone.

He had no time to consider what she’d said, because Taia’s voice echoed through the house’s loudspeaker system. “I’ve found what we’re looking for!” She sounded excited. “I’ve got a location on the Protection Bureau.”

CHAPTER SIX

It took less than thirty seconds for Warbeast Team to gather in front of the one holo-screen still set up in the living room. Bex was there, too, though without her miniature shadow. There was no preamble, no jokes or discussion. For the five of them, everything had instantly become about the business at hand.

“I managed to track Agent Styver’s location to the Cyberwarrens,” Taia said through the surround-sound system. An aerial map of New Avalon appeared on the screen, zooming in on a highlighted section of the mentioned neighborhood. “My efforts to pick him up on CCTV cameras have proven unsuccessful, but thanks to the smart steel Nolan and I were able to plant on him at the last meeting, I was able to get a lock on his position. Only for a few minutes, but it was enough to trace his movements to this building.”

The image on the holo-screen changed to a live feed from a CCTV camera. The footage showed what appeared to be a typical building for the outer fringes of the Cyberwarrens—a plain-looking two-story structure of permacrete and titanium alloy, with no visible indications of its purpose beyond a faded, weather-beaten sign proclaiming it “Allied Holdings Ltd.” Nolan didn’t bother asking her to look into the company name; she’d have already done her digging, and the fact that she hadn’t said anything indicated that it had no apparent connection to the Protection Bureau.

“I’ve searched the footage from the last two weeks, searching for any sign of Agent Styver,” Taia continued. “As expected, his face hasn’t shown up in a single search. However, I found this interesting.”

She zoomed in on a man who seemed to be strolling alongside the building. His appearance was plain and unremarkable, his posture outwardly relaxed, bordering on nonchalant. Yet Nolan instantly recognized his true nature: He was a guard. Undercover, trying to blend into the seedier part of the Cyberwarrens. Nolan had no doubt his eyes were constantly roving behind those sunglasses.

Taia confirmed it by pulling up repeat footage of the same man—along with close to a dozen other men and women, all moving around the same building. Nolan spotted the outline of concealed pistols beneath the jackets, shirts, and sweatshirts they wore to blend in as simple passersby. Armed guards, at that.

“I’ve run them through facial recognition,” Taia said, “and my search of the primary Imperial databases came up with what are clearly aliases. A bit of deeper digging on the darker side of the holo-net, however, led me to this.”

The image on the screen changed to a logo depicting “Black Crow Security,” complete with a bird and fancy lettering. A moment later, more images popped up—internal dossiers on the people Taia had captured patrolling the building.

“I have not yet been able to uncover who is the CEO of Black Crow Security,” Taia said. “However, the files on all these men and women make it clear that they’re experienced. Some former IDF, a few Jackboots, even a few with Imperial military service.”

That was clear enough indication that the building’s ramshackle façade concealed something of value, something that someone wanted very badly to protect. It struck Nolan as odd that the Protection Bureau would contract outside security, not to mention the fact that they had any kind of security in the first place. Their Bolt Hole office had never been patrolled by physical guards, a fact he’d determined after multiple stakeouts. Yet that place had been as fortified as it was secretive. In this new location, which they’d been forced to relocate to in a hurry due to Detective Locke’s prying, it was possible contracting Black Crow had been their only option.

“Judging by the way they’re patrolling and the prints of their hidden weapons,” Master Sergeant Kane said, “they’ve got at least some half-decent training.”

“The real problem’s going to be in numbers,” Zahra added. “You’ve picked up these twelve on perimeter patrol, but there’s got to be at least as many more inside, maybe double that number.”

“According to Black Crow Security’s roster,” Taia said, “there are currently four hundred and eighteen contractors on payroll. There are no records of any contracts or location details to indicate how many of those contractors are currently in New Avalon or on Exodus VI.”

“So we stake it out,” Bex said. “Get eyes on the fuckers and see what surveillance turns up.”

Nolan grinned. That’s another five credits to the Adventure Splash Zone fund, he thought.

“To that end,” Taia said, “I’ve secured a safe house two blocks to the southeast of the target. We’ll have clear sight lines, and it’s a low-traffic building with plenty of routes in and out.”

As she spoke, blueprints, infil and exfil routes, and a detailed layout of nearby CCTV camera locations popped up on the screen.

Nolan couldn’t help being impressed. She’d moved quickly, even for her. All that remained to be seen now was whether or not that actually was the Protection Bureau’s location. He was still on the fence about the veracity of her intel. If she was somehow still under the Protection Bureau’s thumb, they’d find out soon enough.

“What’s the flight time to New Avalon?” Master Sergeant Kane asked.

“The Phantasm will make the journey in two hours and five minutes,” Taia replied. “The Scimitar, two hours and thirty-six minutes. However, there is a storm brewing in the Frostbarren, and there’s a fifty-two-point-nine percent probability that it will shift south by tonight. I’d recommend departing as soon as possible, as that will allow you to reach the Iceglades landing zone well ahead of the storm. After that, it’ll be a three-hour wait until sunset before you travel to the Cyberwarrens safe house.”

Master Sergeant Kane looked around, and the four Silverguards nodded their agreement with the plan. “So be it,” he growled. “Desai, Askvig, get that gear down to the hover-rail and ready to transport. I’ll deal with the weapons. Garrett, Ajeen, we move out as soon as you’re ready.”

Though Bex’s face remained a calm, expressionless mask, Nolan saw the sudden tension in her posture. She’d known that she would have to leave Roz, but perhaps not so soon.

Even so, she just nodded. “Copy that. I’ll be ready to leave in ten.” With military precision, she turned on her heel and hurried up the stairs to the second floor.

The briefing over, the three Silverguards turned to their tasks without a word to Nolan. None of them had any goodbyes to say—everyone they cared about was either by their side or, in the master sergeant’s case, in the grave. At the moment, the mission was all they had on their minds.

Nolan had just ten minutes. Determined to make the most of them, he strode down the hallway toward the room where Jared lay resting.

Jadis looked up from her meal as he entered. She’d only just finished eating, and the bottle of sparkling water was still half-full. As if reading the truth in his eyes or his expression, her face tightened and a hint of shadow darkened her eyes.

“This is a good thing, right?” she asked quietly. “You’ve figured out what you need to do?”

“First steps, at least.” Nolan moved around the bed and sat on the side, close enough to her armchair that he could reach out and touch her. “We’re leaving in ten minutes.”

Lines appeared around her mouth and eyes, but she simply nodded. “However you do it, just get it done.” She fixed her gaze firmly on him. “Put this matter to rest so you can get your life back. And his.” Her eyes strayed to Jared. “He’s already lost so much. Your parents. His fiancée. Nearly two years of his life. He might be losing you, too. Soon.” She swallowed. “He deserves a chance at something better. We all do.”

Nolan had told her the full truth about his condition, and the diagnosis Doctor Sladek and Val had given him. “Funny thing about that,” he said. “Turns out my time in the Vault wasn’t all bad.”

At her questioning look, he explained. “Evidently they gave me something that neutralized the tungstenite and reversed the effects.” Hope shone in her eyes, and he hated the fact that he had to dash it. But she deserved the truth. “It’s only temporary, though. Taia’s still working on the nano-scrubbers, and I’m still expecting a call from Doctor Sladek any day now. But we’ve got a bit more time, at least.”

“Good.” Jadis took his hand in hers and squeezed it. “I’ll take as much of that time as I can get. And hopefully it’ll be enough for you to have some with him, too.” She raised her other hand to caress his cheek. “So come back to me in no more than four pieces, yeah?”

Nolan laughed. “All the important bits attached, I promise.” He leaned forward and kissed her. It was a gentle kiss, but it held all the feelings he couldn’t—and didn’t dare—put into words, not yet. While on the mission, he couldn’t look back, couldn’t worry about her, couldn’t waste any of his mental energy wishing he could be with her. He needed single-minded focus to get the op done. So he’d save the dramatic “touchy-feely shit” for after.

Jadis leaned into him, too, and Nolan felt the truth in the force of her kiss and the tightness of her hand gripping his. Long seconds passed before she broke off and pulled back. She opened her mouth to say something, but a knock at the door stopped her.

Both Nolan and Jadis turned in time to see Bex nudge the door slowly open. “Uhh, you guys busy?”

The hesitance in her voice surprised him. It wasn’t like Bex to be anything but brazen. Hell, he was surprised she hadn’t barged right in and laughed that she was catching them “in the act.”

Then he saw the little girl cradled in Bex’s arms. Roz sobbed into her mother’s neck, arms clasped tightly around Bex.

Jadis stood now. “Come in,” she said, her voice gentle. She moved around the bed and came to stand in front of Bex, yet stood silent, waiting for Bex to speak.

“Roz, baby,” Bex cooed to her child. “Mommy needs to go now.” Pain flashed across her face, and Nolan saw the tension lining her eyes and mouth. “But Jadis is going to keep y—“

“No!” Roz wailed. “No, no, no!”

Bex winced. “Boop—“

“No, mommy!” Roz’s arms tightened around Bex’s neck, her grip almost strangling. “You can’t leave again. I just got you back!”

“I know, baby.” Bex’s voice came out clipped, and she seemed to be struggling to hold back tears. “I don’t want to leave. More than anything else, I want to be with you, always and forever like I promised.” She stroked her daughter’s hair gently. “But there are bad men who are trying to hurt mommy’s friends. Mommy needs to make sure her friends don’t get hurt.”

“But what if they hurt you?” Roz asked.

Nolan’s heart broke—for Bex and her daughter both. He knew just how much Bex had fought to regain custody of Roz, and how much she’d given up to provide her daughter with a safe life.

Yet he also knew how Roz felt. He, too, had lost his parents young, and though Littlewood Home had been a good place to grow up, it hadn’t been easy being an orphan. The Imperial Fostering and Care System was, like every other government program, flawed, and it couldn’t be easy for a girl so young to grow up bounced around from foster family to foster family. Now, finally reunited with her mother, the idea of losing her again—of losing the one thing that felt like home—would be tearing the little girl apart inside.

A hand rested on his shoulder, and he turned to find Jadis looking meaningfully at him. “Go,” she mouthed, pushing him gently toward the door. “Give us a moment.”

Nolan obeyed. Once outside, he pulled the door closed, though he could still hear Roz’s sobbing and Bex’s gentle voice faintly.

He hated the fact that he was the reason Roz and Bex were both suffering. She’d only done this to help him—whether because she felt she owed him or, as she’d said, she genuinely cared. Either way, the knowledge that Roz was devastated and clinging to her mother because of him filled him with guilt.

Then he remembered that he’d gone in to say goodbye to two people. He’d gotten his moment with Jadis, but Bex had come in before he’d been able to speak to Jared. He couldn’t go back in now, so he’d do the only thing he could.

“Taia,” he said mentally, “I need you to run every test you can on Jared. Find out exactly what’s wrong with him, and what we can do to get him back on his feet.”

“Of course,” she replied. “The master bedroom still has all of the medical equipment Tanis’ mother needed in her final days, and I intend to run a full battery of tests. I just wanted to wait until you left to start running tests. To give you some time before your brother was hooked up to machines and tubes and wires.”

A lump rose in Nolan’s throat. “Thank you.” It was a surprisingly empathetic gesture, a degree of humanity she might not have been capable of before.

Just then, the door behind him opened, and Bex strode out. A quiet wail and more soft sobbing echoed in the bedroom, and Nolan caught a glimpse of Jadis cradling a weeping Roz before Bex shut the door behind her.

“Bex—“ Nolan began.

“Don’t.” The quietness of her voice was matched only by its intensity. Nolan had seen Bex furious and spitting fire, but never with this ice-cold hardness. The lines of her face revealed just how much pain she was in, how much her choice cost her. “Just…don’t.”

Nolan closed his mouth. She didn’t need words or comfort or thanks. Right now, she, like he, needed an outlet for his fury. Something to hit, shoot, or rip apart with her bare hands. Time would dull this particular agony, but the sooner they got the mission over with, the sooner the storm raging within Bex would subside. She was torn between two desires, two duties, and the choice she’d made was a damned difficult one to live with.

But live with it she would, because that was what Silverguards did.

With a nod, he turned away from the bedroom—the room where both his and Bex’s futures awaited their return—and marched down the steps toward the inevitable battle.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The two-hour journey to New Avalon passed in near silence, with only the humming of the Phantasm’s engines to break the quiet. Darren and Zahra had opted to ride in the Scimitar with Bex, and Master Sergeant Kane wasn’t exactly the conversationalist.

Nolan didn’t mind. At the moment, he was in no mood for talk. His thoughts were consumed by the mission ahead.

Taking on the Protection Bureau would be a monumental task in itself, but the addition of armed security guards made it an even greater challenge. He and his teammates would have to take the mission slow. They wouldn’t move until they’d learned everything about the movement patterns of the Black Crows, analyzed the opposing force, and gotten a complete sense of what lay beneath the façade of the target building.

About an hour into the trip, a low ringing from Master Sergeant Kane’s side of the cockpit cut into the quiet. The grizzled man pulled out a comm device and pressed it to his ear. A few grunts of acknowledgement passed before the master sergeant said, “Copy that. I owe you one, Falcon.” Then he slid the comm device back into his pocket and returned his attention to the landscape flashing past beneath them.

Silence descended over the Phantasm. After nearly a minute, Nolan ventured, “What was that?”

“A contact,” Master Sergeant Kane replied. “Asked him to dig into the Protection Bureau. Came up emptier than a cake-eater’s bowels after a firefight.”

Nolan scowled. That tracked with what Taia had found—precious little, to be precise. The Protection Bureau had always operated deep in the darkest shadows. The jobs Warbeast Team had run for them during the war with the Terran League had black-bag funding and never wound up on a report anywhere.

Digging into an organization like that had proved frustrating in the past, and Taia had always come up empty-handed. Now Nolan knew the reason why: her programming had made her the Protection Bureau’s digital slave. There was no telling just how much information she’d buried, deleted, or simply been unable to tell him because of their coded commands.

Yet even since she’d liberated herself from their control, her efforts hadn’t yielded much better results. She’d spent most of the trip from Genesis trying to uncover any kind of digital trail that could lead her to them, yet had unearthed nothing. Indeed, were it not for the smart cells Nolan had her plant on Agent Styver—and how she’d bypassed her programming to make that happen, he didn’t know—they might not even have this tenuous lead.

Nolan had hoped Master Sergeant Kane would find something. The man had contacts everywhere, official and unofficial. Hell, during the war, he’d had connections on both sides of the battlefield. But if the master sergeant couldn’t track down intel about the Protection Bureau, it meant the organization had done a damned good job of covering up their activity. So good, in fact, that the vast majority of the Empire—including most of their own fellow government agencies—could find no trace of their existence.

“Still kicking, eh?”

Nolan was surprised to hear Master Sergeant Kane speak. More so when he realized what the man was asking.

“Hasn’t killed me yet,” he said. “Not for lack of trying, though. It got pretty bad on the last op. Not sure how much longer I’ve got.” He glanced over at the master sergeant. “You?”

The man’s shoulders gave a little twitch. “Day’s coming, but not yet.” He reached up and scratched the skin above his cybernetic right eye. “Brain’s still working mostly right. Things get a bit fuzzy first thing in the morning, but once it clears up, I’m sharp as always.”

Nolan hid a wince. It was hard for him to think of Master Sergeant Kane as mortal. The man had always been as solid as the mountains of Terra Omega, looming larger than life and unafraid of anything. He was still unafraid, yet now he was slowly dying from tungstenite poisoning, just as Nolan was. Only the damage was occurring in his brain, and for a man like the master sergeant, losing cognitive function was a fate far worse than Nolan’s paraplegia.

“And the neck?” Nolan had noted the new scar, courtesy of Gemina Black’s bullet. The wound had come dangerously close to putting the master sergeant down for good.

“Pah!” Master Sergeant Kane gave a dismissive wave. “Just a scratch. I’ve cut myself worse shaving with railguns and laser scalpels.”

Nolan smiled inwardly. That was the Wyvern he knew.

With that, they lapsed into silence once more. It wasn’t the Silverguard way to bemoan the fate awaiting them. They’d fight it tooth and nail, keep struggling until their last breath, but never complain. When death inevitably came for them—on the battlefield or off—they’d face it head-on.

Still, Nolan hadn’t given up trying to stave off his own untimely demise. Not only at the hands of the Protection Bureau, but the result of the tungstenite poisoning his body.

“Any word from Doctor Sladek?” he asked Taia mentally.

“Nothing yet,” she replied. “I’ve been periodically monitoring the comm channel you gave him, but he hasn’t reached out.”

Nolan frowned. It had been nearly a week now since handing off the doctor and his daughter to Oversight. If Sladek was going to find his old buddy Hemiphore Archer, the man who’d constructed the nano-scrubbers in the doctor’s bloodstream, he’d have done so by now.

But Nolan refused to give up hope. “How go your efforts to reverse-engineer those nano-scrubbers?” Taia been working on it since first discovering their presence in the aftermath of rescuing the doctor from Shadowspear. The last time he’d asked about it, she’d actually used the words “cautiously optimistic.” “Cracked it yet?”

“Not yet,” Taia replied. “As much as I’d like to tell you that I’m close, the intricacies of such nanotechnology make it incredibly difficult to even identify the individual components, much less recreate them.”

Nolan’s heart sank. That wasn’t the good news he’d been hoping for.

“However,” Taia continued, “I am dedicating additional computing power to analyzing and replicating the nano-scrubbers. Unfortunately, it will divert some of my resources away from the construction of my corporeal form. I estimate it will be eleven days, six hours, and twelve minutes before the body is ready to activate.”

“I know how much a physical body means to you,” Nolan said. “I wouldn’t ask you to delay its construction—“

“You didn’t ask,” Taia said. “Keeping you alive is more important to me.”

Gratitude swelled within Nolan, suffusing his body with glowing warmth. No matter how much he doubted the veracity of her intel or whether or not she’d actually severed her link to the Protection Bureau, he couldn’t question just how much she cared about him. He had more than enough proof of what she’d done—and, on Corrigan, what she’d sacrificed—for his wellbeing.

The rest of the trip to New Avalon passed in silence. The Phantasm approached the city from the west, using the thick haze filling Foundry District and the ship’s built-in stealth cloaking to mask their flight path from eyeballs on the ground and New Avalon Ground Control. Circling around to the north, they reached the Sentry Division building in the Iceglades a full ten minutes ahead of Taia’s ETA.

Just in time, too. Even from the ground, Nolan could see the fury of the ice storm brewing out in the Frostbarren. Though it lacked the sheer size of the storm they’d weathered on Diomedra, this whirlwind spun shards of rock-hard ice at hundreds of kilometers per hour. Even an IAF Leviathan with full battle armor would think twice about flying through a tempest that furious.

By the time the Scimitar arrived forty minutes later, Master Sergeant Kane had unloaded their cargo—Nolan’s guns and the two crates of weaponry the master sergeant had brought—and Nolan had exchanged his combat suit for civilian clothing and the Reinforcement Protocol wheelchair.

Bex, Darren, and Zahra hauled their thermoplastic crates of gear out of the starspeeder and loaded them straight into a pair of unregistered skimmer-craft Taia had parked and ready for them.

Then came the inevitable waiting half of the “hurry up and wait” that was so common in the military. They couldn’t mobilize until sunset, when the cloak of darkness would allow them to move into their observation post. The less attention they drew from their target, the better.

Nolan spent the three hours going over his gear. His combat suit had emerged relatively unscathed from his mission to Corrigan, but he gave it a thorough examination just to make certain. He disassembled and painstakingly cleaned each component of the Balefire Mark 2.1. After reassembling the rifle, he checked each energy clip to ensure they were fully charged and free of any damage. His Echoblade never needed sharpening, but he applied a fresh coat of mineral oil to protect the Echosteel.

The rest of Warbeast Team went through similar preparations in silence. None of them seemed particularly chatty—no surprise, given the high stakes of their mission.

At one point, Darren switched on a portable sound system Zahra had packed and scanned the local channels. Nolan grimaced as a familiar, strident voice echoed through the conference room-turned-war room.

“—Sick Simpering Tyrannidiots might be gone, loyal listener, but we must be watchful, and we must be ready,” proclaimed Jonas Alex in his typical blowhard form. “That’s why I’m bringing back the special on certified Jonas Alex assault rifles, the best value for—“

“Shit!” Darren rumbled, quickly changing the station. “Can’t stand that windbag asshat.”

Grunts of agreement echoed around the table.

A new voice echoed from the speakers, the stentorian tone of a female news anchor. “Crowds have already begun gathering on Genesis for the upcoming Unification Day celebrations, which will culminate in the Emperor’s annual Imperial Proclamation Day address at Foundation Plaza. Sources close to the Emperor say his speech will encourage peace and harmony throughout the Empire, a message considered timely given the recent spate of attacks by Terran League terrorists and the so-called ‘Redeemer.’ However, members of the Emperor’s cabinet—“

Darren changed the station again, this time settling on something with quiet instrumental music. However, the gentle melodies seemed to only add to the tension of anticipation filling the room, so Darren switched it off a few minutes later.

No sooner had silence resumed than Taia’s voice echoed in Nolan’s earpiece. “Nolan, I’ve got an incoming call from Detective Locke.”

Nolan’s eyebrows shot up. “Detective Locke? Now’s not a great time. I can call him back after this is done.”

“That’s what I thought you’d say,” Taia replied. “Which is why I didn’t put him through the first two times he called, all within the last six minutes. But after this third attempt, I believe it is important enough—to him, at least—to persist.”

Nolan frowned. He’d left this comms channel active to give Detective Locke a way to contact him. It had been weeks since his conversation with the detective, but the man hadn’t reached out in all that time. Now it was three attempts in less than ten minutes. That certainly felt important.

He contemplated a moment. He wasn’t exactly in a hurry—he could spare a few minutes to find out what the detective wanted.

Turning to Bex, he tapped his ear and mouthed, “Detective Locke.”

She raised an eyebrow questioningly. Nolan could only answer with a shrug before he said aloud, “Put the call with Detective Locke through.” Bex already knew about his arrangement—she’d played the part of “Mister Tinman” to gather intel on Shadowspear—and Warbeast Team was smart enough to figure out what was happening on the fly.

A little click in Nolan’s earpiece told him the comms channel was live. “Detective,” he said, trusting Taia would use her digital modulator to distort his voice, “this had better be important.”

“You think I’d be calling you if it wasn’t, Hellhound?” Detective Locke’s voice had a hard edge to it. “You certainly don’t make it easy to reach you. I’d have just as much luck shining a huge spotlight into the night’s sky as—“

“You didn’t call me to bitch and moan,” Nolan said, matching the detective’s tone. “You’ve got my attention. What do you want?”

“I want someone taken care of.”

The man’s answer surprised Nolan almost as much as his matter-of-fact tone.

“Taken care of?” he asked.

“Don’t make me spell it out, Hellhound!” There was an audible strain in Detective Locke’s voice. “New Avalon’s got a problem that can’t be taken care of any other way. I need you to deal with it—your way.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Nolan raised an eyebrow. A hint of a smile played on Bex’s lips, Zahra shot Darren a curious look, and even Master Sergeant Kane appeared intrigued by this turn of events.

“Detective Locke,” Nolan said in a tone of mock surprise, “are you asking me—“

The detective was clearly in no mood for Nolan’s sarcasm. “Just listen, Hellhound. We’ve been going after one Fineas Derring, a prize lowlife scumbag, for the better part of fifteen years, and we’ve come up empty every time. He’s got an army of lawyers that help him wriggle off the hook, and his friends in high places keep covering up for him. This latest development’s just made it clear to me that he’s never going to get what he deserves, not going the legal route, at least. Your way’s the only way it’s getting done. The only way he can’t hurt anyone else.” He drew in a long breath. “So I’ve come to you, Hellhound. I need your help to put an end to the perverted filth.”

Nolan opened his mouth to say “no”—he had bigger problems to deal with than some uppity billionaire the Doofs couldn’t handle—but Detective Locke bulled on. “Before you say no, listen to what this fucker’s been up to. He’s blackmailed and bribed his way into a position of power, then used his influence and fortune to create a network of underage prostitutes available only to the wealthiest on New Avalon. For fifteen years, we’ve known he’s been running this ring, but we’ve had no concrete evidence to convict him. Every witness either vanishes, turns up dead, or backs out before testifying. His legal team has found a way to overturn or repel everything we’ve thrown at him.”

The existence of such men sickened Nolan. It was ever the way of the elite, hiding behind their status and privilege. He’d never hesitated to accept contracts to target them—it was rare to find someone in power that didn’t have some dirty, dark secret. Fineas Derring’s secrets were simply dirtier and darker than most.

“Shall I go on?” Detective Locke continued, his voice burning with righteous fury. “Oh yes, the piece of shit somehow ended up in charge of the Imperial Care and Fostering System on New Avalon, a position we suspect he’s used more than once to ‘recruit’ children for his little ring.” Disgust and venom dripped from the man’s words. “Any who refuse his advances simply vanish. Until now.”

Nolan raised an eyebrow. “You’ve got a witness?”

“No, a body. A twelve-year-old boy. Derek Harper. Transferred from his last foster home two months ago, but the ICFS claims he got lost in the shuffle. His body turned up three hours ago in Foundry District. I don’t need to tell you what was done to him, but it’s bad, Hellhound. There’s not enough evidence to tie it to him, but I know without a shred of doubt that it was Derring.”

Nolan let the silence stretch on as he pondered the detective’s words. He had no problem putting his skills to work scrubbing men like Derring from existence. And after all the intel Detective Locke had given him in the past—including what he’d passed to Bex during the Shadowspear mess and what he’d unknowingly been relieved of when Nolan hacked his personal tablet—it could be said that Nolan owed the man a good turn. He’d known it might come to this when he left the comms channel open for Detective Locke.

If only it hadn’t occurred at the worst possible time. Getting involved now would divert his attention from the Protection Bureau job. Going up against what was conceivably the most powerful clandestine organization in the Nyzarian Empire demanded all his focus.

“Sorry,” he said, “but I’ve got bigger problems at the moment.”

“Don’t bullshit me!” Detective Locke snapped. “You not wanting to take this gig is one thing—though I’d remind you that you owe me one—but don’t hide behind the ‘I’m busy’ excuse.”

Nolan understood the man’s anger; the Doofs’ hands were tied by legalities and red tape that Nolan’s status as Cerberus enabled him to circumvent or simply slice through altogether. However, at the moment, the threat against Nolan, Jared, and everyone else in his immediate circle had to take priority.

“Detective Locke,” Nolan said, “under typical circumstances, I’d have no problem putting a bullet into this particular prick-hole’s head. But now’s not a good time. You want me to do this for you, then you need to understand that. I can’t just drop everything and jump because you snap your fingers. You want Derring dealt with, I’ve got to do it on my terms, my time. Got it?”

A loud “Hmph!” was all the answer he got.

Nolan stifled a sigh. He had no desire to alienate Detective Locke—he was fairly certain the man had pierced his Hellhound façade and harbored, at the very least, a strong suspicion of who was beneath the armor. The man was in a position to make the life of one Nolan Garrett a living misery.

However, this couldn’t have come at a worse time. Detective Locke would just have to—

Hang up on him, it appeared, as the comms line clicked and went dead.

Nolan grimaced. “Well, that can’t possibly come back to bite me in the ass.”

“Mmmm,” Bex mused noncommittally.

“You gonna explain all that to us?” Darren asked.

“Hellhound,” Zahra added, a teasing tone to her voice.

Nolan relayed his history with the detective in broad strokes—including the first meeting at the Spacer’s Paradise, dealing with Sergeant Glauser’s connection to the Shramirovannyy, and receiving the intel for their Shadowspear op. The team listened in silence, though with plenty of shared glances passing between Zahra and Darren.

When it was done, no one seemed interested in commenting on the odd relationship between Nolan—an assassin for a clandestine organization—and a Doof detective. His teammates simply let the matter slide and returned to their tasks of preparing to move out.

Finally, the time came when Master Sergeant Kane stood and nodded to them. “We move out,” he said.

Within three minutes, all five of them were racing through the Iceglades on two different paths to the Cyberwarrens safe house.

Nolan sat in the back seat, letting Zahra drive while Darren rode shotgun. None of them carried visible weapons, but Nolan saw the outline of Darren’s pistol in the underarm holster beneath his jacket. Zahra preferred a boot holster, and Nolan wore a coat to conceal the NC7 strapped to his belt.

Not that he was worried…too much. Taia had control of New Avalon’s CCTV system and was digitally altering the footage just enough that they wouldn’t show up on any facial recognition searches. On the off chance the Protection Bureau had learned of his escape from the Vault and was looking for him, they’d have a damned hard time finding him. Or so Taia said, and he wanted to take her word for it. They’d know soon enough, though. If she was still under the Protection Bureau’s thumb, they could expect a visit to their new safe house within hours of their arrival.

Nolan wasn’t fond of keeping secrets from his team—especially not something this potentially catastrophic—but he’d decided to keep this to himself for the time being. Master Sergeant Kane had already made it clear that he, at least, wasn’t certain about Taia’s loyalty. Nolan wouldn’t risk shattering their fragile trust in his AI until he knew for sure.

Half an hour later, after Solaria had fully set behind the western horizon, the two vehicles converged on the fifteen-story tenement building in the Cyberwarrens that Taia had chosen as their safe house. The underground parking structure offered them convenient access to both a service elevator and the building’s western staircase. The five of them and their crates of equipment rode the elevator to the third floor, where a plainly decorated hallway led them to the apartment that would serve as their observation post.

The apartment was nearly empty, save for a sagging couch, a rickety wooden table with only two chairs, and a kitchen with a shattered stove and no fridge. No beds in the single bedroom, either, and the closet doors were either missing or barely hanging on by a hinge. Judging by peeling wallpaper, the black stains dotting the faded carpet, and the thick stink of mold and dirt that hung over everything, the apartment’s last occupant hadn’t been too keen on cleanliness or maintenance.

But that didn’t matter to Warbeast Team. They’d spent far more time in far worse places—jungles, swamps, deserts, harsh mountain ridges, the deep caverns of Proxima Centauri C… Hell, once they’d hunkered down on an asteroid for a full forty-eight waiting for an enemy ship to pass. Anything with four walls and a roof was a step up from the majority of their previous ops.

The five of them set to work setting up the safe house. Master Sergeant Kane and Nolan worked on the weaponry, emptying the crates and arranging each team member’s chosen loadout within easy reach. Darren and Zahra deployed the equipment they’d tested back at the cabin, while Bex unpacked the full suite of surveillance gear they’d picked up from the Sentry Division building.

It took them just half an hour to set everything up. They moved in silence, flowing around each other in a routine that felt so familiar to Nolan, even after all this time. There was a strange sense of comfort in the activity, the simple act of doing that settled his nerves and calmed his mind. Doubly so when he knew the people around him were elite operators that would have his back, that he could trust with his life. After everything he’d learned about Taia and the Protection Bureau, he needed the reassurance that no matter what happened, Warbeast Team—and their newest member, Bex—would have his back.

“Ready,” Zahra said in a quiet voice. She turned away from the telephoto lens she’d set up in front of one window. “Who’s on first watch?”

“I’ve got this,” Master Sergeant Kane said. “Garrett, rack out. You’re up in four hours.”

“A-firm,” Nolan said. A part of him hated the idea of trying to sleep while the mission was still going, but he’d been through enough of these stakeout ops to know that it was best to rest while he could. His nerves would settle and his ability to fall asleep anytime, anywhere would kick in. Four hours wasn’t a long time, but for a Silverguard trained to stay awake for days at a time, it would be enough.

Bex gave him a nod and a wink, and Nolan returned it before turning his chair and wheeling toward the bedroom.

“All right,” Master Sergeant Kane said from the living room behind him. “It’s showtime!”

CHAPTER NINE

“Another one’s coming around the corner,” Darren rumbled. “Woman, dark hair, ratty overcoat.” He pressed his eye closer to the zoom lens that he’d been using to scan the street for the last four hours. “It’s Lange. Her third round in two hours.”

“Lange, copy that.” Zahra entered the name, details, and time in her datapad, and the information popped up on the screen, the latest entry in their watch log. “That confirms the full twelve on exterior patrol, passing every ten minutes.”

Nolan set down the now pristine Balefire Mark 2.1 and looked up from where he sat at the room’s lone table. “Exactly ten minutes?”

Zahra nodded. “Staggered by ninety seconds or so to make it look random, but close enough that the pattern’s clear.” She gestured to the names and timestamps for each of the dozen Black Crows patrolling around their target building. “No new faces on the roster yet, either. So we’re talking at least twenty-four-hour shifts.”

Nolan frowned. Twenty-four hours was a long time for the average soldier, cop, or guard to be on-shift. Hunger, thirst, and fatigue could mess with their concentration and make it easier to miss small details. Even with the rotating patrols, the men and women on duty would be feeling the fatigue soon.

Silverguards trained to stay awake for extended periods in extreme circumstances—Nolan’s record was one hundred and twelve consecutive hours with no sleep—but even they knew to break up watch shifts. At that very moment, Bex was taking her turn racked out on one of the two military cots they’d dragged into the apartment’s empty bedroom. They were going on fourteen hours into their stakeout, and eight-hour rotations kept them fresh and kept eyes on their target at all times.

Nolan rested the Balefire Mark 2.1 against the wall, within easy reach, and wheeled toward the surveillance station set up in the main room’s second window. Here, a laser microphone connected to a compact speaker set gave him ears on their targets. Not that there was anything to hear. So far, the Black Crows patrolling the building’s exterior hadn’t broken radio silence once, maintaining their “nonchalant passerby” façade on every sweep. The permacrete walls of the dilapidated building made it impossible to hear anything within the structure.

“Any luck re-establishing connection to Djinn Three?” Darren asked without taking his eyes off the telephoto lens.

“Not yet.” Zahra’s face twisted into a scowl. “Just waiting on Wyvern to return so I can run a diagnostic and find out what happened.”

An hour earlier, Zahra had launched four of her tiny coin-shaped drones to get a closer look at their target building from all corners of the compass. Djinn Three’s approach path from the southeast had been the shortest, and it had gone suddenly offline before Zahra could maneuver the other three into position. None of them were naïve enough to believe for a moment that pure coincidence had caused the drone’s malfunction at that exact time. Zahra had recalled her remaining Djinns, and Master Sergeant Kane had gone to do a physical sweep of the target location and collect the downed Djinn Three to find out exactly what had happened.

The door to the apartment opened and the master sergeant himself shuffled in. A thick stink of garbage-tainted mud emanated from the threadbare, tattered overcoat he wore, and Nolan had no desire to ask what the dark brown smears on his face were. A filthy woolen cap was pulled low to hide his cybernetic right eye and that half of his face. All in all, he looked far more like one of the many beggars that frequented this region of the Cyberwarrens and the nearby Bolt Hole than one of the most ferocious soldiers alive.

As soon as he shut the door behind him, Master Sergeant Kane straightened from his hunched-over stoop and strode toward Zahra. “Here.” He opened his right hand to reveal Djinn Three cradled in his gloved palm.

Zahra plucked the drone from his hand and hurried over to one of the thermoplastic crates that contained her equipment. Plugging it in, she picked up her datapad and began tapping furiously. “No signs of exterior damage,” she said, half-musing to herself. “Running internal diagnostic now.”

Master Sergeant Kane ignored her and moved to stand in front of the holo-screen with its list of guards and patrol times. “Dumb sonsofbitches,” he said with a snort. “Fuckheads are way too predictable. Staggered-shift patrols only work if there’s no pattern to them.”

“Like Kali said, Sarge, we’re not dealing with the brightest crayon-eaters in the box,” Darren rumbled from his perch at the window. “That Farrand guy actually had his DS129 tucked into the front of his belt. Almost like he wanted to commit testicide.”

Nolan chuckled. “Someone skipped that day of basic.” Even the dumbest Ironhand knew to keep a pistol barrel as far away from his junk as possible. He wheeled away from the speaker set and headed toward the holo-screen. “Spot anything interesting on this pass?”

Master Sergeant Kane’s face screwed up into a scowl. “Same as the first two times we strolled by. A whole goddamned lot of nothing.” He unclipped Djinn Six from his filthy, stinking jacket and set the little drone down on top of a nearby crate. “Taia?”

The patrol log on the holo-screen disappeared, replaced by a detailed three-dimensional rendering of their target building’s exterior.

“Based on Phoenix and Kali’s previous visual scans of the building,” Taia said, “and compiled with footage taken from CCTV cameras and the Djinn drones’ optical feeds, we’ve determined that the building has only two entrances—on the north and south sides—but neither appear to be in use.”

Nolan stared at the two graffiti-stained doors that opened into their target building. Heavy chains barred the main entrance on the north side, and a pair of overflowing metal dumpsters blocked the southern door.

Of course it would be too easy for the Protection Bureau to use regular doors, he thought sourly. Not when they can use hidden entrances and secret passages.

Based on the design of the Bolt Hole office where he’d visited Agent Styver, Nolan fully expected to be dealing with something deep underground and only accessible via a well-concealed entry point. Unfortunately, that meant first locating that entry point, a task that had proven impossible even after fourteen hours of surveillance. Shortly before midnight, Bex and Zahra had set up more surveillance equipment in a secondary location on the northwestern side of their target building, which Taia relayed to their current outpost to give them a full three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view of the structure.

In all that time, however, they hadn’t yet seen anyone entering or leaving the building. Even the Black Crows’ movement patterns made it impossible to determine where they’d come from. The guards seemed to appear on the CCTV footage as if stepping out of thin air—a technological impossibility, Nolan knew—and they approached the building from all directions. Nolan suspected they were utilizing the maze of underground tunnels built beneath the Cyberwarrens to get around. Unfortunately, he had no way to backtrack their movements without alerting them to Warbeast Team’s presence.

Taia had dug as deep into the underbelly of the holo-net as possible, but even probing those dark shadows hadn’t led to a comprehensive map of the subterranean passages. Almost as if someone as powerful as the Protection Bureau had gone to extensive lengths to scour any trace of them from existence. It was the simplest means of safeguarding their new secret location.

“Shit!” Zahra cursed.

Nolan, Master Sergeant Kane, and Darren all looked over to where she was working on Djinn Three.

“Fried circuits,” she explained, a scowl on her face. “Like deep-fried, crispy black. Not a malfunction, either.” She pointed to a tiny scorch mark on the drone’s underside. “Almost like it was a targeted EMP blast that overwhelmed its built-in shielding.”

Nolan chewed on that. “Not an EMP field?” Those were far more common, and far less cutting edge than whatever directed electromagnetic weapon she was thinking about.

“If it was a field, Sarge’s eyeball woulda gone boom when he got within range of the building.” Zahra gestured toward their team leader. “I’ve heard whispers about precision-targeted systems that sense nearby electrical activity and fire a quick EMP surge. Sort of like an anti-missile system, but built specifically to detect and target drones.”

That didn’t bode well for the op. “Think it got someone’s attention?” Nolan asked.

“No,” Master Sergeant Kane said, shaking his head. “Djinn Three was sitting right where Taia predicted it had fallen. None of the Black Crows I passed seemed to be any more wary or watchful than before it went down.”

“So more like an electrical bug-zapper, then?” Darren’s rumbling voice echoed from over by the window.

“One that appears to be both automated and disconnected from any alarms or monitoring alerts,” Taia said.

Nolan let out a breath. “Good.” The mission would be far simpler if the Protection Bureau didn’t find out about their presence until the time came to make a move.

“Not good!” Zahra snapped. “Djinn Three’s down for the count. I’m going to have to rebuild its guts from scratch, and I don’t have the components on hand for that.”

“I do,” Taia said, “but they are all back at the Iceglades safe house where the ships are berthed.”

Zahra shook her head. “Won’t do us any good, then. Not until we bug out of here.”

None of them would leave their observation post unless absolutely necessary or mission-critical. Doing so could risk compromising operational security. Worse, it could expose them to the Protection Bureau’s eyes and ears. The longer they could fly under the radar, the better their chances of success.

Taia’s voice suddenly echoed in Nolan’s earpiece. “The smart cells on Agent Styver’s clothing just came back online!”

Nolan spun toward the holo-screen. “Where?” The way the others in the room also instantly went on full alert told him that Taia had broadcast the message over team-wide comms.

“Locking on his location now,” Taia said. She called up a three-dimensional map of the Cyberwarrens, and a moment later, a blinking red dot appeared.

Nolan’s eyes widened. The bastard would be passing the street right in front of them in a matter of seconds.

He leaped into action without hesitation. A mental command to Taia shifted his Reinforcement Protocol wheelchair into the lower-body framework that propelled him from a sitting position to standing. The instant he could move, he darted toward his Balefire Mark 2.1, scooped up the gun, and raced back toward the window where the laser microphone had been set up. Shouldering the rifle, he sighted on the street where he expected his target to pass.

Nolan’s heart pounded and adrenaline rushed in his veins as he eagerly awaited the moment his crosshairs settled onto Agent Styver’s skull.

Yet one second became two, then five, then ten. Still no sign of the man. Frowning, Nolan glanced toward the holo-screen. “Where is he?” he asked.

“The smart cells place him directly next to the southeastern edge of the building,” Taia said.

Nolan sighted in the direction she’d indicated. “Nothing!”

“I’ve got nothing either,” Darren rumbled from his perch at the window.

Then Nolan remembered his conversation with Taia after his meeting with Agent Styver at the Leaping Guest. The man seemed to have appeared out of thin air, then vanished after. Cloakthread, or its technological equivalent, could be concealing Agent Styver from their eyes and the telephoto lens.

With a flick of his thumb, Nolan switched the Balefire’s scope to thermal imaging. Instantly, the streets below were overlaid in a sea of light blue and warm purple, the heat of Solaria’s light brightening the view through his scope. Heat streaming from rooftop vents, passing vehicles, and even disguised Black Crow contractors strolling along the street stood out in the thermal vision.

But no Agent Styver.

Come on, motherfucker. Where are you?

Then he spotted it. A puff of heat from an exhaled breath, accompanied by a hint of orange and red that, despite being barely more than thin lines in the air, formed the unmistakable outline of a moving figure. It couldn’t be cloakthread—the light-bending fabric couldn’t conceal body heat—but something far more cutting edge.

Yet the material, despite its advanced technology, failed to hide Agent Styver from Nolan’s rifle.

He settled his crosshairs onto the spot where he knew his target’s skull would be. Got you, you piece of shit!

CHAPTER TEN

The one thing Nolan wanted more than anything else in the world was to pull the trigger. One quick squeeze, and a needle-thin bolt would rid the world of Agent Styver. From this range, just under four hundred meters, Nolan hardly needed to aim. He could make that shot half-dead, blind, and with his eyes closed on a stormy day. It would be so satisfying to see the pink mist and know Agent Styver would never be a problem again.

But killing the man wouldn’t solve his real problem. The man was just a face and name representing his organization. To truly put an end to the threat, Nolan had to either take down the Protection Bureau or inflict so much damage that it would cost them too much to come after him. Pushing them until they were backed into a corner and forced to negotiate was his best play. Destroying the clandestine organization root, stem, and branch was the scorched-earth Plan B.

With great reluctance, Nolan moved his finger away from the trigger. He didn’t take his crosshairs off the faint heat outline marking Agent Styver’s figure, however. Instead, he tracked the man through his scope, following him down the street.

“Switch to thermals,” he told his companions. “There’s a barely noticeable heat signature moving down the street heading south, directly toward us.”

A moment later, a grunt echoed from where Master Sergeant Kane had joined Darren at the window. “Got him,” Darren rumbled. “The fuck is he wearing to mask his body heat like that?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Master Sergeant Kane growled. “Just keep an eye on him. Desai, any of those drones have built-in thermals?”

“Just Djinn Four at the moment, sir,” Zahra answered. “Djinn Three’s out of action until I can do a full rebuild.”

“Then get it airborne and send it after our target.”

Nolan tore his eyes from his scope and glanced over at his team leader. Master Sergeant Kane was adjusting his coat, fingerless gloves, and woolen cap.

“Keep eyes-on until you lose him,” the master sergeant ordered. “We’ll pick him up a couple of blocks down. Send word if anything changes.”

“Copy that,” Nolan said. “Taia, set team-wide covert comms on active.”

“Comm channel open,” Taia replied.

“Askvig, watch him until he’s out of view.” Master Sergeant Kane was all business now. He scooped up a Gatecrasher and tucked the grenade into a pocket of his filthy coat, then hurried toward the door. “Garrett, get Ajeen up and ready to head out in case we call for backup.”

Nolan turned back to his scope before the door closed behind his team leader. As he tracked in the direction of Agent Styver’s movement, a tiny hum and a flicker of movement registered in the corner of his vision. Zahra sent Djinn Four zipping out through Darren’s cracked window before following Master Sergeant Kane out of the apartment.

It took Nolan just a few seconds to find Agent Styver’s heat signature. The man strolled at a slow, unhurried pace, as if he hadn’t a care in the goddamned world. For just one moment, Nolan entertained the image of what would happen if he pulled the trigger. Agent Styver had always made it so easy to dislike him, and Nolan doubted there were many people in the world who would miss the man.

But he slowly lowered the Balefire, set it against the wall next to the window, and turned to carry out Master Sergeant Kane’s order. Some old habits died hard, and even after years away from Warbeast Team, he still instinctively deferred to his team leader. Not just by rote or because of the man’s seniority, though. Master Sergeant Kane had rarely made mistakes—letting his temper lead him into Gemina Black’s sights on Diomedra numbered among the very few and far between—and he was one of those mythical “old, bold soldiers.”

Bex’s eyes flicked open the moment he pushed the door open, and she leaped to her feet, fully awake and alert. “Found him?”

Nolan nodded. “Troll’s got eyes-on, and Wyvern and Phoenix are heading out to tail him. Master sergeant wanted you ready as backup in case they need it.”

“Copy that.” Bex scrubbed a hand over her face as she moved toward the door, passed him, and headed straight for the holo-screen. Her long gun of choice, the MK75 with a rapid-fire engine configured to a light machine gun, rested against the wall where she’d left it, but she hadn’t taken off the Karma Sideshooter even to sleep.

Nolan watched her move, trying to push down his worry for her. He had no doubt about her skill as a soldier—she was more than a match for any of Warbeast Team. But the memory of a sobbing Roz clinging to her mother’s neck still haunted Nolan. He could only imagine how much worse it would be for her. She was giving up a great deal to be here, to help him. That knowledge had to weigh on her. She’d never split focus in battle, but it would be at times like this, during the moments of quiet, that the inner turmoil would be hardest to push through.

She must have sensed him watching. “Leave it alone, Cerbie,” she snapped without taking her eyes off the screen. “Mind on the mission.”

Nolan gave no answer; instead, he said, “Taia, call up the feed from Djinn Four and the master sergeant’s eye.”

In response, twin video feeds appeared on the holo-screen. One was an aerial view, heading south along the street where Nolan had spotted Agent Styver. The other depicted the interior of the service elevator, which opened into the parking structure where they’d left their two skimmer-craft.

“I’m losing him in thirty seconds,” Darren rumbled. “Building two blocks south is going to cut off my view from here.”

“Copy that, Troll,” Master Sergeant Kane said over team-wide comms. “In position in two mikes.” The feed from his cybernetic eye grew shaky as he sped up, heading toward the exit from the underground parking and onto the street west of the building. “Phoenix, don’t lose sight of him.”

“I’ve got him square in Djinn Four’s feed,” Zahra replied. True to her word, the flying drone had a clear view of the faint heat outline indicating Agent Styver’s movement. “I’ll hang back and stay high, make sure he doesn’t sense he’s being followed.”

Nolan watched both feeds. Master Sergeant Kane was moving fast down a street that ran one block to the west of and parallel to the one where Agent Styver was strolling at his leisure. Nolan had no idea where Zahra was, but he guessed she wouldn’t be too far behind. She’d take to the same street as Agent Styver and tail him from seventy meters back. In her too-thick black makeup and civilian clothing—a dusty-looking leather jacket over a tie-dyed shirt, purple cargo pants, and spiked platform boots—she looked like one of the odder denizens that frequented the Cyberwarrens. She’d elicit at most a cursory glance from Agent Styver. Her skill at espionage tradecraft was exceeded only by the master sergeant himself.

Warbeast Team’s plan involved a stealth infiltration of the Protection Bureau’s office. If Taia was truly out from under their thumb—a notion Nolan found marginally easier to accept now that she’d actually located Agent Styver—she could wreak fifteen different kinds of havoc on their servers. One well-crafted attack similar to the one Ex-Umbra had launched could give her total control of their systems.

If Agent Styver’s superiors played nice, Nolan would settle for a truce and agreement that they’d never bother him again. If not, the malware Taia had spent the last nine hours crafting would cripple or possibly demolish the Protection Bureau’s system. And, if Nolan got really lucky, they’d find all the intel the Protection Bureau had on him, and Taia would have a field day erasing or altering it beyond restoration, down to the last bit.

Either way, Nolan was determined to walk away from this free. Whether or not the Protection Bureau remained standing after he was done with them, well, that remained to be seen.

“Shit!” Zahra said over the comms. “I’ve lost him!”

Nolan’s attention snapped to the screen. There, the feed from Djinn Four showed a handful of visible heat signatures of passersby, pedestrians, and vehicles, but no faint outline of Agent Styver.

“I’m ten seconds out, Phoenix,” Master Sergeant Kane said. “Where’d you lose him?”

“That thirty-story building on the W-side,” Zahra replied. “One second he was there, then he was gone.”

“Taia, call up a map of that area!” Nolan instructed. The holo-screen displayed an aerial view of the Cyberwarrens. Sure enough, as Nolan had feared, there was an alley just north of the building. “Phoenix, check the alley fifty meters to Djinn Four’s southwest.”

The feed from the drone zoomed forward, approaching the area where a wall hid the alley from view.

Bex stepped forward. “Wyvern, the alley comes out just thirty meters in front of your pos. Cut him off that way.”

“Cutting him off,” Master Sergeant Kane growled. The feed from his cybernetic implant once again grew shaky as he ran, as indicated by the fast-moving, blinking red dot Taia displayed on the map.

Come on! Nolan watched both the drone’s and the master sergeant’s feeds as they converged, his heart hammering in his chest.

Suddenly, half of the screen went dark as they abruptly lost Djinn Four’s feed.

“Shit!” Zahra cursed. “Just lost eyes!”

Nolan sucked in a breath. “Another EMP blast?”

“On my way to find out.” Zahra’s voice was breathy, as if she moved at a fast walk. “Bast”—she used Taia’s call sign, which the AI had shared with them—“get me a pos on where Djinn Four went down.”

“Copy that,” Taia replied. “I’ll guide you to it.”

“I’m here!” Master Sergeant Kane growled. The feed from his cybernetic eye showed the alley behind the thirty-story building. Empty. A few faint threads of heat rose from a vent set into the floor and from an exhaust pipe that blew steam and hot air into the alley, but no sign of Agent Styver.

“Shit!” Nolan clenched his fists, wishing he had something to slam them onto. “Taia, tell me you’ve still got a lock on him.”

“Negative,” she replied. “The smart cells I planted on him just went offline in that exact alley.”

Nolan’s heart sank. “Goddamn it!”

Agent Styver had been their one lead, the one chance they’d had to get into the Protection Bureau, and they’d just lost him.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Nolan fought to keep frustration from clouding his thoughts. His mind raced, trying to understand what had just happened.

“Phoenix, I need confirmation that Djinn Four’s down and out like Djinn Three,” he said.

“Ten seconds out,” Zahra said.

“Wyvern, come east through that alley and see if there’s anywhere he might have ducked out of sight.”

“On my way.” There was no hesitation in the master sergeant’s voice, no question of Nolan’s instructions. That was the way it went in the field. The master sergeant was in charge of the op, but he didn’t insist on having total control. He knew that Nolan’s bird’s-eye view made him best suited to quarterback at least this part of the mission.

“Taia, do a deep dive into that building, find out everything you can about it,” Nolan said. “Anything that could stand out as odd, I want to know about it.”

“On it!”

“Taia caught me up on what happened while I was out,” Bex said. “You think that building has the same EMP blast thing that knocked out Djinn Three?”

“No way Zahra makes two drones that malfunction in exactly the same way at exactly the wrong time.” Nolan shook his head. “Not even with Finagle’s law kicking in at maximum.”

Bex nodded. “Too coincidental.”

“Djinn Four’s toast,” Zahra said over the team-wide comms. “Same scorch mark. I’ll open it up as soon as I get back, but it’s pretty damned clear.”

“Got a back door here,” Master Sergeant Kane said. “And a service entrance that goes down to some kind of loading bay.”

The view from his cybernetic eye swiveled toward the small metal fire exit that stood at the top of a short staircase, then in the direction of a permacrete ramp that led into a subterranean level of some sort. Nolan had just a second to get a good look before Master Sergeant Kane’s view shifted forward and he moved on. Moving any slower would draw attention, so he had to keep advancing eastward along the alley at a steady shuffle. While passing the dumpsters, stacked boxes, and steaming vents, the master sergeant caught a glimpse of Zahra hurrying back the way she’d come before she disappeared in a flash of purple pants and long overcoat.

“Gonna do a lap,” Master Sergeant Kane said, “then I’m B-to-B.”

“Copy, Wyvern,” Nolan and Bex said at the same time.

Nolan continued, “Bast’s digging into that building now. Let’s see what she comes up w—“

“Hmm, this is interesting,” Taia said, cutting him off. “The building’s occupancy records show no sign of Agent Styver being a tenant. However, I’ve found something that connects this structure to our target building. Through this man.”

An image popped up on the screen, showing a lean, angular face Nolan knew all too well. “Fineas Fuckface Derring?” Nolan’s eyebrows rose. “He owns both buildings?” A more worrying thought entered his head. “And why not say anything earlier?” Was this Derring guy somehow connected to the Protection Bureau, and Taia was simply covering his tracks?

Her answer set his mind somewhat at ease. “His ownership of our target building is public record,” she said. “However, until there was a link between him and this building where Agent Styver disappeared, there was no reason to give him a second glance. Beyond Detective Locke’s desire to eliminate him, of course.”

Nolan couldn’t fault her on that. Fineas Derring was incredibly wealthy, even by Imperial standards. Doubtless he had hundreds of similar holdings around not only New Avalon, but all the large cities of Exodus VI and other planets. Nolan’s past interactions with the man had been far from pleasant—including beating the snot out of some goons Derring had sent to teach Nolan a lesson—but nothing that would lead him to suspect the man of anything more serious than being a Grade-A cunt.

Detective Locke’s words had planted the seed, and now the connection between the two buildings—both of which happened to be potentially linked to the Protection Bureau—got Nolan’s attention.

“Do a deep dive on him,” Nolan said. “Find out exactly who he is and what his link to the Protection Bureau is.”

“Already searching,” Taia replied.

Nolan nodded, but from the corner of his eye noticed Bex looking strangely at him. “What?” he asked.

Bex’s expression remained inscrutable, and she remained silent for a full two seconds before she shook her head. “Nothing.”

Nolan narrowed his eyes. He knew her well enough to recognize the signs of her mind working, analyzing something. She wasn’t the kind to play coy, so if she said “nothing,” she typically meant it.

But there’d been something odd in that look she’d given him. He simply couldn’t figure out what was going on in her brain to elicit the response.

“Heiyerdahl’s coming around for another pass,” Darren rumbled from the window. “Back in the trench coat, like he thinks it’s cool.”

Nolan input the data into their log. Based on Darren’s observations, the Black Crows were rotating the people they sent out on patrol far more randomly than their patrol timeframe. That, at least, spoke of a degree of professionalism when it came to tradecraft. Not exactly top-secret spy work, but they were a cut above the average undercover Doof, at least.

“Here, big guy, let me take over.” Bex moved toward Darren and nudged his huge shoulder with her hip. “I’ve got next watch.”

Darren didn’t protest, but quickly vacated his perch in front of the telephoto lens. He groaned and straightened his huge shoulders, rolled his head side to side, and stretched his massive arms as he moved toward the container that held their MREs. Pulling out one, he dropped to a seat on another thermoplastic crate and popped open his ready-made-meal-in-a-bag. The smell of chili beef and beans wafted over to where Nolan stood in front of the holo-screen.

“So this Derring guy”—Darren shoveled a spoonful of the meal into his mouth, then talked around the food—“you’ve run into him before?”

Nolan snorted. “Uppity fuck literally ran into me in some bar. Then, after I rolled over his foot, he sent a few lunkheads to rough me up. Well, to try at least.”

Darren raised an eyebrow. “That’s it?”

“Yeah.” Nolan shrugged. “Guy’s an asshole and a half, but this is the first time he’s dropped into my orbit.”

Darren took another bite of his meal, then gave a noncommittal grunt. “Fair enough. Just thought I’d ask, given you and the Protection Bureau have history. I figured if he was connected somehow…” He trailed off.

Nolan shook his head. “First I’m hearing of it.” He didn’t tell the big man why. If there was anything connecting the man to the Protection Bureau, Taia wouldn’t have been able to tell him about it before now.

Before either of them could push the matter further, the door opened and Zahra marched in. Her expression was hard as she marched toward the crate where the now dead Djinn Three lay, and set about connecting Djinn Four to her datapad. A few seconds later, she gave a low growl deep in her throat. “Motherfuckers!”

That confirmed their suspicions. The building where Agent Styver had disappeared was also protected by a targeted EMP anti-drone system.

“Totally crisped.” Zahra dropped the coin-sized drone next to its equally lifeless counterpart. “That’s two they’ve fucked up now.” Her dark eyes flashed. “If I wasn’t pissed at them before, I bloody well am now!”

A few seconds later, Master Sergeant Kane entered the apartment. “Confirmed?”

Zahra nodded. “Same EMP burst.”

The master sergeant removed his long, filthy overcoat and hat, dropped them onto the rickety table, and moved toward the holo-screen that still displayed Fineas Derring’s picture. “Who’s this?”

Nolan quickly filled Zahra and Master Sergeant Kane in on what Taia had found about the man. “Taia’s still digging, but if there’s anything linking him to the Protection Bureau, she’ll find it.”

Master Sergeant Kane nodded and glanced at Zahra. “In the meantime, Desai, can you jury-rig another couple of Djinns with thermal vision?”

Zahra’s expression grew pensive. After a moment, she shook her head. “Not without more equipment.”

Master Sergeant Kane ran a hand down his stony face. “Then one of us stays posted up watching that building at all times.” He turned back to the holo-screen. “Even if Taia lets us know the moment those smart cells come back online, I’ll want one of us keeping eyes on that building to confirm Agent Styver’s movements. He’s still our best way in.”

“I’ll go.” Darren dropped the now empty MRE bag onto the container where he’d been sitting and stood. “It’ll be good to stretch my legs.”

“Go,” Master Sergeant Kane said. “Ajeen will relieve you in four.”

“Copy that.” Darren plucked another coat from the pile of clothes that served as their disguises. The coat was as ragged as Master Sergeant Kane’s, but a different color and with a hood he could pull up to hide his blonde hair. The big man donned the disguise, scooped up a pair of compact thermal goggles, and slipped out the door without another word.

“Desai, get some rest,” Master Sergeant Kane said, his voice firm. “You’ll spell Ajeen at the lens when she switches with Askvig.”

Zahra looked up from her datapad, frustration evident on her face. But she didn’t argue with the master sergeant’s order. She simply put down the device and strode toward the bedroom with their two cots. Soldiers—and especially operators— knew to get whatever rest they could, as they could. There was nothing Zahra could do to salvage her two Djinns or upgrade the others without the proper tools.

“You’re up next, Garrett,” Master Sergeant Kane said. “Doesn’t look like we’ll be making a move anytime soon, so our best play’s to hunker down and wait for more intel.”

“Or,” Bex said from where she sat monitoring the target building, “we ask our favorite Doof.”

Nolan scowled. “That’s not just mission creep—it’s going totally off-book.”

“Not necessarily,” Bex said without taking her eye off her surveillance lens. “Think about it.” She held up a pair of fingers. “Two buildings that just so happen to be owned by Derring. One the potential location for the Protection Bureau’s offices, and the second a possible safe house or domicile for Agent Styver. What are the odds that’s just a coincidence?”

Master Sergeant Kane’s eyes narrowed. “Longer than General Arthin’s ballsack.”

A little snort-chuckle burst from Bex’s lips. “So Derring’s gotta be connected somehow,” she continued. “And Detective Locke’s offering to serve him up on a goddamn silver platter.”

Nolan wanted to argue—they couldn’t divert their attention from the Protection Bureau—but the more he thought about it, the harder it was to dispute her logic. “Shit, that makes a fucked-up kind of sense. The Protection Bureau disappeared from their Bolt Hole office almost from one day to the next, but there’s no way they could have just set up shop here unless the building was ready-made for something like this.”

“An operation of this scale would require serious data processing power,” Taia added, “which means huge server systems, not to mention space for however many people they’ve got running things.”

“And if Derring had something, they could just move right in.” Master Sergeant Kane’s expression grew pensive. Nolan had filled Warbeast Team in on everything that had happened since he first learned of Agent Styver’s deal to sell Wolfe and the White Sharks stolen IAF-grade weapons. “And if Black Crow’s somehow tied to him—“

“I can find no visible connection between Black Crow Security and Fineas Derring,” Taia said. “However, it’s possible that it’s simply too well concealed, like everything else connected to the Protection Bureau.”

“And if anyone’s going to put together a solid intel package on a suspect,” Bex added, “you know our Type-A detective friend will.”

Nolan frowned. He didn’t like it—he’d like the actual act of placing the comms call to Detective Locke even less—but there was a certain amount of logic to her idea.

“Sir?” he asked, glancing at his old team leader. Master Sergeant Kane wasn’t their commanding officer anymore, not officially, but if anyone could make the right call in a situation like this, it was him.

Master Sergeant Kane scratched at his gray beard, then slowly nodded. “Reach out, see what he’s got to offer.”

“Copy that.” Nolan nodded. “Taia?”

“Already connecting you to the detective,” she said.

A few seconds later, Detective Locke’s voice barked in Nolan’s earpiece. “What!?”

Nolan had expected a bit of irritation, but the man sounded borderline furious.

“You call to remind me that you’re too busy to sort out one of the biggest messes in New Avalon?” Detective Locke’s tone went well beyond hostile. “That your problems are somehow bigger than—“

“I’ll do it,” Nolan said. He kept his tone flat, letting Taia’s digital voice modulators turn his voice into a deep growl. “Derring’s a problem I can take care of.”

That seemed to take the wind out of Detective Locke’s sails. He cut off mid-tirade, stunned to silence.

“I take it you’ve been surveilling him?” Nolan asked.

“Of course I have!” Detective Locke snapped. So not all his wind had been knocked out.

“You’ve got a fix on his current location?”

“He’s holed up in his Upper Heights mansion,” Detective Locke said. “Surrounded himself with a small army of gunmen. Seriously, an army. Last surveillance log counted seventy-five on-premises.”

Nolan had a pretty good idea as to why that was. He’d taken out contracts on Fineas Derring with multiple Shadowspear operatives—a distraction tactic to split their forces. Though he’d made certain the Doofs snatched up the assassins, he wouldn’t have been bothered to learn one or more slipped through and actually pulled off the job. Derring had evidently survived the attack and responded by contracting his own force of shooters to protect him.

“That’s a lot of warm bodies and itchy trigger fingers,” Nolan said. “SWAT would have a damned hard time getting past all those shooters.”

Detective Locke snorted. “No shit! That’s why he’s a problem of your magnitude.” He drew in a deep breath. “He’s the kind of filth you eliminate, Hellhound. The sort of man the Empire is far better off without. My hands are tied, but yours aren’t.”

Nolan didn’t bother responding to that. “Send me all the intel you’ve got on him and his mansion. See if you can figure out a plausible reason to pull your Doofs back, too. I’ll handle the rest.”

“Sending the intel now,” Detective Locke replied.

“Receiving data packet via the comms channel,” Taia said in Nolan’s earpiece.

“You’ll know when it’s done,” Nolan said.

“I don’t know what’s changed, Hellhound,” Detective Locke began, “but you have to know you’re doing a good th—“

“Goodbye, Detective,” Nolan said, and ended the call.

“Nolan, we’ve just found that link between Derring and Black Crow Security,” Taia said as soon as the comms channel went silent. “Detective Locke’s intel identifies the ‘small army’ guarding his estate as Black Crows.”

She called up images showing contractors with paramilitary outfits and an impressive array of weaponry patrolling and guarding an enormous Upper Heights mansion.

“Correction,” Taia said. “Detective Locke’s intel identifies Sandra Herion as one of the partners in Black Crow Security. Herion is Derring’s mother’s maiden name.”

Nolan raised an eyebrow. “Guy like that probably has all kinds of assets under other names and a dozen ways to avoid paying taxes.”

“Including, it appears, ownership of half a dozen other buildings around New Avalon,” Taia continued. “All of which are under the names of his mother and two of his ex-wives.”

She called up a map of the city, and outlined in bright red the properties Derring secretly owned.

“But what matters right now is this building.” Nolan jabbed a finger in the direction of their target. “Derring owns it, and a guy like him doesn’t strike me as the sort who’d give over total control of it to anyone, not even the Protection Bureau. I’d bet he’s at least got blueprints of whatever’s down there—“

“And maybe a manifest of what was installed before the Protection Bureau commandeered it,” Master Sergeant Kane finished. “Something that could give us an idea of what we’ll face if we go in.”

“Exactly!” Nolan nodded. “The Protection Bureau’s powerful, but not even they can simply hollow out an underground structure from the bedrock of New Avalon overnight. Which means they had to move into some pre-existing structure. And if we can get our hands on intel of what it was, we might be able to find something to exploit. Like the ventilation shaft on Diomedra.”

Master Sergeant Kane scratched at his bearded chin. “You don’t need to keep selling me the cow,” he said, giving a dismissive wave. “Just explain how you plan to get it done.”

“With way too little effort.” Nolan almost laughed. “Look at the layout of his mansion.” He gave Taia the mental command to display the same image she’d shown him earlier. “It’s all grand picture windows and wide-open spaces up on the top floor, which will make it as easy to get into as a Voidmarine’s pants on Fleet Week.”

“Speaking from experience?” Bex put in from her perch by the window. “And you swore you and Rip were just old buddies!”

Nolan ignored the gibe. He couldn’t, however, ignore just how much he’d missed her comments in the days since she’d left. Nothing lifted his spirits quite as much as one of Bex’s glib, sarcastic comments.

Master Sergeant Kane’s lip twitched—just for a moment, then he was all business again. He folded his arms across his chest and stared at the images on the holo-screen. “You’re right,” he said after only a few seconds. “Drop in from above, enter here”—he tapped the glass-walled room adjacent to the rooftop swimming pool and hot tub—“and get to Derring. Man like that’s going to have a lot of armed guards for show, but no way he’s got any real defenses that could give you trouble.”

“Cloaked and with silenced weapons, we’ll be in and out in ten minutes,” Nolan said. “Fifteen, tops. Taia can copy everything off whatever devices he’s got in the mansion, and if he’s got the data on the building stored off-site, we’ll find out and get there.”

Master Sergeant Kane slowly nodded. “Better than trying to infiltrate the Protection Bureau’s building blind, especially with all those Black Crows guarding the perimeter.” He tapped a finger against his lips, studying the images for a long moment. “Take Ajeen. The two of you will make quicker work of things, and it’ll do you good to have backup in case things go pear-shaped.”

Nolan didn’t bother to argue with the master sergeant. He had no need to ask if they could handle surveillance on Agent Styver and the Protection Bureau’s building—Master Sergeant Kane knew exactly what he, Darren, and Zahra were capable of, and if he decided it was worth sending Bex with Nolan, then it was the right play.

Bex popped to her feet and, with a broad grin, strode toward Nolan. “Looks like it’s you and me again, Cerbie.” She clapped him hard on the shoulder. “Let’s go see a shit-sucking dirtbag about a blueprint!”

“Dick-tweaking idiots!” Bex’s snort echoed loud over the comms channel. “What short-bus-riding balls-for-brains trained them? Anyone who calls that a proper perimeter had to have been dropped on their head a few too many times.”

Nolan couldn’t argue with her assessment. They’d spent the last hour watching the mansion first through Taia’s spy satellite network, then through the cloaked Phantasm hovering near the southern end of the Iceglades, where it bordered the northern edge of Upper Heights. What he’d seen hadn’t impressed him.

The Black Crow contractors defending Derring’s Upper Heights five-story, half-square-kilometer mansion put on a good show of force for anyone who would be terrified at the sight of an armed gunman. True to Detective Locke’s intel, at least thirty men and women in black paramilitary uniforms were visible around the estate’s vast exterior, doubtless with more inside or off-duty. All carried heavy-looking weapons and wore serious expressions as they ringed the outer wall, front gate, and main entrances to the mansion.

But any well-trained soldier who’d actually pulled guard duty on a military base could immediately see the holes in the defense. Sure, armed forces patrolled the perimeter of the property, but the eight-minute gap between patrol sweeps made it far too easy to slip over the five-meter-high wall and through the lush gardens, which offered too many hiding places on the estate’s southern side.

Any hostile forces coming up the main western driveway would find themselves facing a force of at least fifteen gun-wielding Black Crows, but that left the northern and eastern edges of the property with only a handful of guards to patrol it. Whoever was in charge relied too heavily on the gunmen atop the roof and third-floor exterior balconies to keep an eye on the ground floor, a serious mistake once darkness fell. Even with floodlights and motion sensors, there was simply no way a force that small, arrayed in that composition, could keep a proper eye on that much acreage.

And, of course, the layout of the Black Crows accounted for a ground-based force breaking through the front gates, but failed to prepare for any sort of overhead insertion. The four Black Crows standing guard on the rooftop’s corners could be taken out, and any invading force would have direct access from above.

“Hey, at least it makes our job easy,” Nolan said. Truth be told, he welcomed a cakewalk after the intensity of the Corrigan mission and the time he’d spent in the Vault. Hell, he wanted nothing more than to spend the next week relaxing in the cabin in the Celestial Cascades and forgetting the world around him existed.

But that wasn’t possible. Not yet, not until the Protection Bureau had been either pacified or eliminated.

He glanced at the Phantasm’s flight console. 16:02, it read. They had just under three hours until sunset, then another hour or so until they made their move under the cover of darkness.

Nolan’s eyes wandered toward Bex. She hadn’t spoken much on their drive to the Sentry Division warehouse, or when they’d armored up and boarded the Phantasm for their short flight to the observation coordinates. Now that he thought about it, Nolan realized she’d been oddly quiet since they left the cabin. Since they left Roz behind, sobbing in Jadis’ arms.

“How are you doing?” Nolan tried for a casual tone.

Bex’s helmet swiveled toward him. “Really?” she snapped. “You’re asking me that now?”

Nolan grimaced inwardly. “I mean—“

Bex cut him off with a slash of her hand. “Just drop it, Garrett. Yes, it’s harder than I expected, and yes, seeing Roz like that nearly broke me. But no, I’m not regretting it. Not yet. Now, if you keep checking up on me and hovering like a goddamned mother hen, then yeah, I might start regretting it. So don’t ask goddamned stupid questions like how I’m fucking doing.”

Nolan fell silent. Her reaction was marginally worse than he’d expected. She was pissed—at the situation at the very least, maybe even at him or herself, too—and in no mood to talk to him. On the other hand…

“We’ve got a few hours until we make our move,” he said. “The Phantasm’s got a secure comms channel you can use to call the cabin and—“

“Drop. It. Garrett.” Bex growled each word. “Mind on the mission.”

“Copy that,” Nolan said, and turned his attention back to the mansion below.

Though he no longer looked at Bex, he couldn’t help worrying for her. He could only begin to imagine the pain she was feeling. She’d just gotten her daughter back, then left her in the care of strangers. Friendly strangers, certainly, but anyone other than Bex herself was surely a poor substitute in Bex’s mind. That image of Roz’s tear-stained face haunted Nolan—what would it be doing to Bex?

But she was right about one thing: they had to keep their mind on the mission. The sooner they got in and got what they needed from Derring, the sooner they could return to their primary task of dealing with the Protection Bureau.

Nolan leaned closer to the flight console’s screen, as if it would enable him to see his target through multiple levels of stone, brick, and permacrete. With Taia’s satellites hovering over the building, she had a lock on the various heat signatures moving inside. Derring was alone in his office on the third floor, but the presence of a woman swimming naked in his pool suggested that his focus on work would soon turn to other, more leisurely pursuits.

When that happened, Nolan and Bex would mobilize. The top floors were poorly guarded, with far too many access points. It would be almost too easy.

“Shit sticks!” Taia said in Nolan’s earpiece. “Nolan, you need to see this.”

An official document bearing the seal of the Imperial Defense Forces popped up onto his HUD. “Be on the Lookout,” it proclaimed. “Wanted for crimes against the Empire: Nolan Garrett.”

Nolan’s gut tightened as he stared at the image on the BOLO. It was an older photograph, taken shortly after he was medded out of the Silverguard. Though his face was gaunter, his eyes more hollow, it still depicted him clearly enough that anyone who saw it would recognize him.

But that in itself wasn’t what set dread coursing through him. The only reason this would have gone wide to the Doofs was if the Protection Bureau had allowed it. They knew he’d escaped the Vault and survived. They had decided to burn him publicly, make him enemy number one. And if they saw anything that might resemble Cerberus’ handiwork, they’d immediately come hunting him.

Which meant he had to be damned careful with this Derring mission. Any visible fingerprints could set the Protection Bureau on high alert. Agent Styver would be smart enough to know it wasn’t a coincidence, and they’d connect an attack on Derring to their new base of operations. They’d pull off a vanishing act as effective as when they’d vacated their Bolt Hole offices, leaving Nolan with no way to track them down—and entirely at their mercy when they came hunting him.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Nolan stood atop the lowered rear ramp of the Phantasm, staring down at the vast estates and enormous mansions of Upper Heights nearly a full kilometer below him. Up this high, the wind whipped past his armored body with such force he had to grip the ship’s frame to steady himself.

Nolan drew in a deep breath, going over the plan they’d crafted. It would be a simple, clean infil, but Nolan and Bex were both armed and ready in case things went pear-shaped. Nolan had his Balefire Mark 2.1, NC7 pistol, and Echoblade, while Bex was loaded down with her MK75 in a light machine gun configuration, the Karma Sideshooter pistol, and her own Echosteel dagger. They’d do their best to avoid dropping unnecessary bodies, but had no qualms about what would happen if the Black Crows forced the matter.

He turned to Bex, who stood beside him. “Ready?”

She gave him a thumbs-up. “As ready as a boy on prom night with a wallet full of condoms.”

Nolan chuckled. Bex really did have a way with words. “Taia, the pool deck still clear?”

“Affirmative,” Taia said. She called up aerial satellite footage of the Derring mansion. The pool deck was elevated above the mansion’s main roof, offering privacy even from the guards stationed on the rooftop. “We’ve got a clear infil path.”

Nolan unslung his Balefire rifle. “Then let’s do this.”

With a nod to Bex, he leaped off the ramp and into the empty night sky.

Wind rushed around him as he plummeted toward Upper Heights. For long moments, he basked in the freefall, the feeling of weightlessness. Yet the sensation that had formerly been so pleasant now sent a shiver down his spine. The last time he’d felt like this, he’d been locked in the Vault, batted around by the artificial gravity. Grimacing, he gave Taia the mental command to extend his combat suit’s glider wings.

The wings snapped out, and instantly the wind caught him and arrested his downward momentum with a jolt that jarred his spine. One moment he was falling, the next he was gliding smoothly through the air, once more in full control.

“Taia, target coordinates,” he said.

A map of Upper Heights appeared on his HUD. Two blinking red dots showed his and Bex’s position relative to their target half a kilometer to the southeast. Taia had full control of their combat suits and would keep them on course for touchdown atop the roof of Derring’s estate.

The gliding descent took less than three minutes. Nolan activated his helmet’s thermal imaging as Derring’s estate came into view, and the heat signatures of the man’s guards shone bright orange and red on the sea of cool blue. As Taia had said, the elevated pool deck was clear, and the guards on the rooftop watched outward.

Too easy, Nolan thought with a grin.

The pool glowed a soft orange—Derring liked it heated, it seemed—and made for an easy target. Nolan never stopped scanning the rooftop and the glass-walled room next to the pool, keeping an eye on the guards. The probability that the Black Crows could see through his combat suit’s digital camouflage was virtually nil, but he wouldn’t take any chances.

Nolan and Bex circled once to slow their descent, then came in for touchdown. Taia pulled up at the last second and retracted the glider wings for a picture-perfect landing. Nolan’s combat boots barely made a sound as he dropped the last meter onto the wooden deck. Bex landed a moment later, and her tap on his shoulder was the signal to advance toward the sunroom ten meters away.

As Nolan had expected, the glass doors to the sunroom were unlocked and slid open with scarcely a whisper. Comfortable pool furniture and a fully stocked wet bar occupied the western half of the room, but Nolan turned toward the east-side staircase that descended into the mansion. He paused at the top of the staircase just long enough to scan for any movement below. His thermal imaging and helmet’s highly attuned auditory sensors picked up nothing. The top floor was empty and quiet.

“Path’s clear,” Nolan said over comms. “Taia, are the heat sigs still on the fourth floor?”

“Affirmative.” Taia called up the feed from the spy satellite, this time overlaid with the thermal imaging filter. “They haven’t left their room in the last half-hour.”

Nolan nodded. Taia had hacked into the mansion’s blueprints and located the master suite on the fourth floor. The larger of the two heat signatures in the enormous bedroom would doubtless be Derring.

“Anyone between us and them?” Nolan asked.

“Negative,” she said. “You’ve got a straight shot down.”

Nolan nodded and gave Bex the “all clear” signal—unnecessary, as she’d heard everything over comms, but old habits died hard. Balefire held at the ready, he advanced down the stairs. With his anti-grav thrusters set on five percent output, he maintained solid but silent footing on the ornate tiles.

At the bottom of the stairs, a long hallway ran north for thirty meters before branching off to the east and west. Open doors gave Nolan a quick glimpse into the mansion’s interior, and it was even more lavishly decorated than Nolan expected. Centuries-old oil paintings hung on the walls in gold and platinum frames, watching over marble statues that had doubtless once stood in a museum. The floor and roof were both covered in diamond-and-ethernium-inlaid floor tiles, and every decorative accoutrement and piece of furniture visible in the place dripped affluence.

Nolan’s dislike for his target grew. The bastard didn’t hesitate to show off his wealth—wealth he’d acquired by turning underage boys and girls into prostitutes for his elite clientele, who he had then proceeded to blackmail or extort to add to his influence in the Empire. His terrible taste in décor was just the rotten cherry atop the shit sundae that was Fineas Derring.

The first door to Nolan’s left led not into a room, but a small staircase that the mansion’s blueprints showed descending directly into Derring’s suite. It gave the man easy access to the sunroom and pool deck should he want to swim, bypassing the primary staircase used for guests and visitors.

Any self-respecting security force would have this access point secured, stationing at least one guard there to keep watch. The Black Crows, however, had failed to lock down the staircase, giving Nolan and Bex clear access to Derring’s rooms.

The staircase opened into what appeared to be a massive walk-in closet and en suite bathroom. Nolan and Bex moved past shelves filled with costly shoes, a fortune in watches and jewelry, and row after row of expensive, well-tailored outfits cut in the latest fashion. The closet door was closed, but through his helmet’s thermal imaging, Nolan had a clear view of the two heat signatures in the room beyond.

One, a woman, lay stretched out on an enormous circular bed, either asleep or unconscious. The second figure—Derring—sat hunched over a table in the corner of the room, with his back to the closet.

Deactivating his thermal imaging, Nolan slid the double doors open just a few centimeters, enough that he could see his targets. The woman sprawled on the bed looked more drugged out of her mind than asleep. Her breathing was shallow, her complexion sickly pale in the dim light of the bedside lamp. She wasn’t the same woman Nolan had seen at Derring’s side in the Leaping Guest, either. To his relief, she appeared to be in her thirties or forties—so not one of the underage girls from Derring’s prostitute ring.

A loud, prolonged, sucking snort echoed from the table, and Derring let out a gasping “Aahh!” of delight. As the man straightened, Nolan saw a straw sticking out of his nose, followed by five neat lines of bright orange powder on the tabletop.

“Hah!” Derring leaped to his feet and spun toward his companion. The drug—Nolan recognized the color of the amphetamine-laced Hero Dust anywhere—set him talking at a million kilometers per hour. “I feel like a swim! Nothing better than a swim after dark. Especially in a heated pool. I’ve got a heated pool. Ooh, it should be nice and warm in the cool air. Do you want to swim, Carnelia? I think you’d like it. Especially because it’s heated. Did I tell you the pool was heated? You’ll find it so warm and inviting, and I’ve got a bikini with your name on it. So let’s go!”

The woman didn’t stir at his words. She was too far gone to even hear him, Nolan guessed. Hero Dust was a cruel horse to ride. The initial high made you feel like you could do the impossible—hence its moniker—but if you didn’t take more bumps to keep the high going, the inevitable crash would leave you as insensate and weak as Derring’s companion.

“Hah, more swimming room for me, then!” Derring shook his head, setting his wispy, combed-over hair flying about. His lean face shone with a bright, manic smile—and a hint of orange dust around his nostrils—as he stripped down to his leopard-print underwear and reached for a plush bathrobe draped over the back of his chair.

He turned to the unconscious woman and patted her bottom. “I’ll be back, sweet cheeks!” For a moment, the pat turned into a grope, but when Carnelia didn’t stir, Derring seemed to lose interest. He swaggered toward the closet, carried on the high of the Hero Dust running through his veins. Seizing both door handles, he flung them open and stalked into the closet.

Right past Bex and Nolan. Even without the Hero Dust clouding his mind, he’d never have seen through their digital camouflage in the closet’s darkness.

Nolan rolled his eyes. It would be so easy to put an end to Derring here and now. A quick thrust of his Echoblade into the base of the man’s skull, or a vicious wrench of his neck. No mess, no fuss, in and out without anyone knowing.

But he hadn’t come here just for Detective Locke. This wasn’t only about eliminating a scumbag, even one as truly deplorable as Fineas Derring. He’d come for intel that only this man could provide.

So instead of putting a Balefire bolt into the back of his target’s skull, Nolan slung the rifle onto his back and leaped up to seize Derring by the collar. Before the man could protest, Nolan dragged him the five steps into the bathroom and shoved his face into the toilet. Only after he’d fully submerged the man’s head did he realize that the last person to use it had forgotten to flush. That brought a savage grin to his face.

Nolan didn’t bother looking back—without his thermal imaging, he wouldn’t see through Bex’s digital cloaking, and he had full confidence that she’d watch their backs while he dealt with Derring.

He gave the man a full thirty seconds before pulling him out of the water—just long enough for Derring to drag in a spluttering breath. Then Nolan shoved his face back in. This time, he kept Derring under until the man’s struggles grew more frantic and frenzied.

Can’t let him drown until after he gives us what we need, Nolan thought.

Releasing the man, he stepped back and deactivated his digital cloaking. He wanted Derring to see the armed and armored man in his bathroom—after its short-lived high, Hero Dust had a way of distorting and amplifying fear, paranoia, and anxiety.

Derring managed to drag himself out of the toilet, coughing and gasping. He lay on the bathroom floor, retching onto the diamond-encrusted tiles beneath him.

“Mister Derring,” Nolan growled in his best Cerberus voice, distorted by Taia’s voice modulator, “you and I need to have a chat.”

Derring spun toward him, eyes going wide at the sight of Nolan. His surprised shout was cut off by another wave of retching, and vomit sprayed over his plush robe and hideous underwear.

Nolan waited patiently until the man had finished spewing. The moment Derring’s attention was once again fixed on the armored figure standing over him, Nolan drew out his Echoblade and turned it so the blade caught the moonlight shining through the bathroom window.

“Don’t bother offering me money,” Nolan said, toying with the blade. “You’ve got only one thing I want. Give me that, and you’ve got a chance of getting through tonight with everything still attached.”

He moved so fast Derring had no time to react before the tip of Nolan’s dagger was pressed against the tiny bulge in his underwear and Nolan’s helmeted face was mere centimeters away from his.

“I trust we understand each other?” Nolan growled. He was glad Taia had shut off the helmet’s olfactory sensors—the last thing he wanted was to smell the man’s vomit-soaked breath and the fresh stench of urine emanating from Derring’s underwear.

Derring gibbered incoherently in the grips of fear and Hero Dust.

“Shut up,” Nolan snapped. He took hold of Derring’s lean face and gripped the joints of his jaw hard enough to silence the man. “The only words I want coming out of your mouth are the answer to my question. Got that?”

Derring gave a hasty nod. Nolan slackened his grip slightly, and the man snapped his mouth shut with a clack of teeth.

“Good.” Nolan nodded and released Derring’s face, but kept his Echoblade pressed against the man’s groin. “Now, tell me—“

“Nolan!” Taia said in Nolan’s earpiece. “A silent alarm just went off in the house, and you’ve got three heat signatures converging on this location. They’ll be here in thirty seconds!”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Nolan’s heart leaped into his throat as he spotted Derring’s left hand pressed against something beneath the toilet: a button.

The sneaky fuck!

“Kali—“ he began.

“Already on my way,” Bex said. There was no sound of her leaving, but Nolan knew she had left the bathroom door and was now headed into the master bedroom.

Nolan’s mind raced. Their plan had hinged on not having to shoot their way out of Derring’s mansion. Not that he expected the Black Crows to be any trouble—they’d have a hard time finding their own asses with both hands, a fully detailed map, GPS coordinates, and an intel package on the expected terrain. No, what worried him was Agent Styver finding out.

The Protection Bureau had just issued an Empire-wide BOLO on him, which led Nolan to suspect they hadn’t been able to track his departure from the Vault. But a shootout at the mansion of the man who owned the Protection Bureau’s current base of operations would send up red flags bright and large enough for even a half-wit to see. Agent Styver would put two and two together and the Protection Bureau would pull a Houdini.

Which left Nolan in a damned pickle.

“That was stupid,” he growled. He slammed the pommel of his Echoblade into the man’s testicles, and clapped a hand over Derring’s mouth to muffle his cries of pain. “Backup won’t arrive in time to stop me from killing you!”

Derring’s eyes went wide, and confusion mingled with the panic and pain in his expression. Nolan knew what the man was thinking—there should have been no way for this armored assailant to know about the silent alarm he’d triggered. But Nolan’s words and the dagger he now pressed to Derring’s throat banished all hopes of salvation.

“Mmpht!” His words were muffled beneath Nolan’s gauntlet.

“Choose your next words carefully,” Nolan snarled. “They could very well end up engraved on your tombstone.”

A snort echoed over comms. “Nice touch, Cerbie, if a tad overdramatic.”

Nolan ignored Bex’s gibe. His words had the desired effect on Derring.

“Mmpht!” the man protested again.

Nolan removed his hand.

“Wait!” Derring gasped. “That alarm…not guards…calling for medical assistance!”

Nolan frowned. Then he remembered the bright orange powder on the table and the nose straw now floating in the toilet.

“In case you overdose?” Nolan asked.

“Yes!” Derring nodded. “J-Just let me talk to them, let them know i-it was an accident! I-It’s not the first time I’ve h-hit the button.”

Nolan contemplated that. There existed a very real chance Derring would try to call for help, and the situation would become very noisy and messy for all involved. Even killing all the Black Crows on-site wouldn’t stop news of the attack from reaching Agent Styver. But he preferred to avoid a battle altogether, as their plan had initially intended,

“Kali, hold what you’ve got!” Nolan said.

“Whiskey Tango Foxtrot?” Bex asked.

“Lock it down so no one can get in, but don’t start shooting until I give you the green light.”

A moment of silence, then Bex said, “Kali copies. Locking shit down.”

“Five seconds out,” Taia said in his ear. “They’re on the fourth floor and closing fast.”

Nolan returned his attention to Derring. “One word I don’t like, I start cutting.” He lowered his Echoblade and pressed the tip against the man’s groin. “And I won’t stop until there’s nothing left to cut. Understood?”

“Yes!” Derring tried to shift away from the blade, but the toilet at his back blocked his escape. “I-I’ll get rid of them. No trouble, I swear.”

“Good.” Nolan stood, seized Derring by the neck, and hauled him upright. “Move.” He shoved Derring roughly toward the bathroom door, but didn’t release his grip on the man. That alone saved Derring from falling flat on his face. Nolan knew the Hero Dust would be wearing off soon—when that happened, if the man didn’t get another bump, he’d go comatose like his companion on the bed. And Nolan couldn’t have that happening until after he got the intel he needed.

Before Nolan reached the bedroom, a hammering sounded at the door. “Mister Derring?” came a man’s shout. “Can you hear me? Is everything okay in there, Mister Derring?”

“Two armed, one with a medical bag,” Bex said over comms.

“In case of OD,” Nolan explained. He shoved Derring into the bedroom and dragged the man toward the door. Placing his helmet close to Derring’s ear, he whispered in the roughest voice Taia could generate, “One. Wrong. Word.” He pressed the tip of his Echoblade between the man’s legs from behind for added emphasis.

“Mister Derring!?” The man’s voice sounded more insistent, echoing with panic. “Mister Derring, if you don’t answer, I’m going to have to break down the door and—“

“No, no!” Derring almost shrieked. “I-I’m fine. Just another false alarm, Manny.”

A moment of silence. Nolan activated his penetrative thermal imaging and studied the three figures on the other side of the door. Two were clearly Black Crows, complete with paramilitary outfits and heavy assault rifles, but the third looked more like an orderly or nurse, down to the scrubs and the medical bag he carried.

“So you’re fine, Mister Derring?” Manny asked. “Your…companion, she’s okay?”

“Yes, Manny, sh-she’s fine!” Derring stiffened as Nolan kept the back edge of his Echoblade pressed against the man’s anus and testicles. “Just sleeping it off.”

“Are you sure, Mister Derring?” Manny seemed reluctant to let it go. “I’d feel better if you let me come in there and check on her. Just to make sure she doesn’t…you know…well, you remember what happened with the last one.”

“No one enters,” Nolan hissed Derring’s ear.

“She’s perfectly all right, Manny!” the man snapped. “She’s only had two lines!”

Silence again, and Nolan saw Manny looking between the two guards. He tensed in expectation of what would happen if the orderly pressed the issue. Judging by the presence of the Black Crows, he’d come fully prepared to break down the door if his master proved unresponsive or used some secret distress code word.

Nolan activated his digital cloaking and slid to the right, putting Derring between him and the door. Bex, too, shifted her position so she’d have a clear shot at whoever entered the room. Even concealed by their suits’ camouflage, neither of them would take a risk. The two Black Crows would drop first, and Manny a moment later.

To his relief, Manny relented.

“Okay, Mister Derring,” the orderly said. “If you’re sure.”

“Of course I’m sure!” Derring snapped. He’d regained a semblance of his self-control, though Nolan’s dagger was a dangerously sharp reminder of who was truly in charge of the situation.

“I’ll just leave a shot of opioid blocker out here,” Manny said. Thermal imaging showed him pulling something out of his medical bag and leaving it on the floor outside the bedroom door. “Anything happens—“

“Yes, yes!” Impatience echoed in Derring’s voice. “Now fuck off and leave us to our little party.”

“Of course, sir. Good night, sir.”

Nolan breathed a sigh of relief as Manny and the two Black Crows backed away from the bedroom door, then turned to retreat down the hall.

He replayed the conversation in his mind; nothing stood out as odd, but he wouldn’t take chances. “Kali, watch the hall. A mental command to Taia deactivated his cloaking. They come back, you let me know.”

A single click of the comms acknowledged his order.

“There!” Derring said. “I did what you asked. Now—“

“Now you shut up again.” Nolan pulled the Echoblade away from the man’s sensitive bits and, with one hand, spun Derring to face him. He looked in the man’s eyes, searching for the signs that Derring was coming down from the Hero Dust high. Sure enough, his pupils had begun to dilate even wider and his eyes were glazing over.

“Go.” He shoved Derring toward the table, where five lines of Hero Dust remained. “Take another bump, but don’t try anything stupid. It’s fucking hard to snort lines with a shattered nose.”

Derring seemed both surprised and relieved by Nolan’s command. He didn’t protest as he turned to stoop over the table. With one long, sucking snort, he filled his nostrils with the Hero Dust.

Nolan prepared for the man to try something dumb. Hero Dust had a way of making its user feel invulnerable, and Derring might be just idiotic enough to think he could go for a gun in a hidden drawer or tackle his assailant. Nolan would rip the man to pieces in a straight fight, but it would prove more difficult to take the man down without bloodying him up or leaving marks.

Fortunately, Derring was coward and dirtbag in equal measures. After finishing his line of Hero Dust, he turned to Nolan with a look halfway between pleading and demanding.

“What do you want from me?” he asked. “Whatever it is, I promise I can make it worth your while to—“

Nolan resisted the urge to drive a fist into the man’s face or gut. Instead, he stepped closer and jabbed a finger in the man’s face. “I told you, there’s only one thing I want.”

That shut Derring up, and sent him cowering back against the table. His scrabbling hands sent the orange powder flying in all directions.

“Tell me!” Derring cried. “You say you don’t want money? What about girls? I can—“

This time, Nolan gave in to instinct. He drove his fist into Derring’s solar plexus. The air burst from the man’s lungs in a whooshing gasp, and he collapsed to both knees, curling up around his stomach.

Nolan stared down at the man. He hadn’t struck hard enough to leave a bruise, but he couldn’t risk it again. Crouching, he seized Derring’s wispy hair and yanked the man’s head up. “The blueprints on every building you own in New Avalon. Where are they?”

Surprise mingled with the pain filling Derring’s eyes. “B-Blue…prints?” He struggled to draw breath. “What—“

“Did I fucking stutter?” Nolan snarled. “I want those blueprints. Give them to me, or I start cutting.” He twisted the man’s head farther back to an awkward, constricting angle and pressed the Echoblade to the man’s cheek. He took care not to break the skin, though. Nothing could mark his presence here tonight.

Derring couldn’t know that, however. All he could see was an armored and helmeted man threatening his life and favorite body parts. That was enough to instill terror into him.

“My office!” he managed to croak out. “Right next door. Top left-hand drawer.”

“Kali,” Nolan said over comms.

“Moving,” Bex replied. There was no sound of her rising or striding across the room, but the door to Derring’s office opened a second later.

“What’s in the drawer?” Nolan demanded. “What am I looking for?”

“A hard drive!” Derring gasped, wheezing for every breath. “Black, metal, about palm-sized. It’s biometrically sealed, though.”

“Got it,” Bex said.

A few seconds later, Nolan felt her tap his shoulder. He released his grip on Derring’s head and reached back without looking. She slid something into his hand and, taking it, he thrust the palm-sized object at Derring.

“Unlock it,” he growled.

To his surprise, a hint of stubborn defiance appeared on Derring’s face.

“Why?” Derring demanded. Fear still shone in his eyes, yet there was something else there—survival instinct, perhaps. He knew that this was his one bargaining chip. “I give you what you want, you kill me right here. So if I’m going to do this, what do I get out of it? Besides my life!”

Nolan raised an eyebrow. “You’d think that would be enough.”

Derring actually straightened—either he’d found some hidden reserve of courage or, more likely, that bump of Hero Dust had manufactured some. “I’m a very powerful man with very powerful friends,” he said, his tone dripping self-importance. “I could have you hunted down, and there’s nowhere in this galaxy you could hide.”

“That sounds like a threat,” Nolan said. “I don’t take kindly to threats.” He tapped the blade of his dagger against Derring’s groin, a little reminder to put the man in his place.

“Fine, of course.” Derring’s bravado burst like a bubble, but he didn’t fully collapse. Limited as his reserves of courage were, he was smart enough to recognize his small advantage. “But tell me what else you’re willing to offer me. Make it worth my—“

“How’s this?” Nolan moved closer until his helmeted face was a centimeter from Derring’s. “I won’t cut off your little prick and feed it to you piece by piece. I won’t slice off your fingers and toes and make them into a pretty necklace for you to wear. I’ll leave your ears, tongue, and lips where they are, and I won’t cut out your eyes. I know exactly what sort of man you are. I know you’re a shitstain who preys on innocent boys and girls, who destroys lives for nothing more than your own sick pleasure and a pursuit of power.”

Righteous anger built within Nolan, a towering inferno that he had no desire to quell. “I know that you’re the lowest, most despicable sort of creature.” He seized Derring’s collar and pulled him closer, flattening the man’s nose against his helmet. “And despite all of that, I’m willing to leave you in one piece, to walk out of here without killing you.” His voice dropped to a harsh, furious hiss. “So tell me, Fineas Derring, is that enough for you?”

“Yes!” Derring cried out, struggling to pull away from Nolan. “Gods, yes!” He disintegrated into a mess of wailing, sobbing, and incoherent babbling.

Nolan released his grip on the man, and Derring sagged to a heap on the floor, where he sat in a puddle of his own tears, urine, and terror. Nolan gave the man a few moments to wallow in his misery, then prodded him with his boot. “Unlock it,” he growled.

Derring flinched, but complied. He pressed the tip of his thumb to one side of the drive, and a little green light blinked to life. “There!” He thrust the device at Nolan. “It’s unlocked.”

Even as Nolan reached for it, Taia extended the smart steel threads from his gauntlet and inserted them into the drive’s single port. “Copying and analyzing all the data now,” she said. “I’ll have confirmation in thirty-two seconds.”

Nolan grunted acknowledgement. He stood waiting, staring down at the pathetic figure at his feet.

“Cerberus,” Bex said over comms, her voice quiet, “this was in his desk drawer.”

Nolan glanced over his shoulder at her. She had deactivated the digital cloaking of her right hand, which she now held out to him. In her gauntleted palm, she held an applicator loaded with a glass vial full of swirling, neon pink liquid.

The sight sent a shiver down Nolan’s spine. Blitz.

He stared at the shimmering, gleaming drug. It had been his poison of choice for years, and even now, after all this time, he found its allure hard to resist.

Realization slammed into him, and he ripped his eyes away from the vial to stare at Bex. How long had it been since the last time she’d held a vial of the drug and nearly injected it into her veins? Two, three weeks? She hadn’t even been clean for two months, and now she stood holding in her hands the very thing that had nearly killed her.

“Bex—“ he began.

She cut him off. “Not for me, you idiot. Him. Cleaner than Plan A.”

Nolan’s words died on his lips. Of course. He should have known. She’d made the choice to cast aside the Blitz in the Zalkrovi. Her resolve, determination, and willpower had kept her battling to regain custody of Roz. Now that she had her daughter once more, nothing would separate them. He should trust in her strength to keep her clean.

Yet he knew all too well just how tempting the siren call of Blitz—and all narcotics—could be. He didn’t trust himself around it. Hell, he’d nearly relapsed weeks ago himself. Even after close to five years of sobriety, a moment of weakness had almost been his downfall.

That was the struggle of addiction, the struggle of dealing with recovering addicts. The road to recovery was long and hard—sometimes too hard to remain on. He could trust Bex with his life, but he’d never stop worrying about her sobriety, just as he’d never stop fearing the day when something might push him over the edge and send him down that dark path.

But for today, he had no reason to fear. “Copy that,” he said, and took the vial from her. The words of Manny, the orderly, had inspired an ending far cleaner—and, Nolan felt, more fitting—than their initial plan of drowning Derring in his own pool.

Now he just had to wait until—

“I’ve got it,” Taia said. “The blueprints on every building he owns in New Avalon, including both in the Cyberwarrens.”

Nolan turned back to Derring. “My condolences, Mister Derring, on your untimely demise.”

Derring looked up, confusion on his face. “What…?” His eyes went wide, and his gaze darted to the dagger held in Nolan’s left hand. “But you promised you’d walk out of here without killing me!”

“I didn’t kill you.” Nolan crouched down next to the man and pressed the applicator against the crook of his elbow. “You died of an overdose. Nasty things happen when you mix Hero Dust and Blitz. Your heart just couldn’t handle the strain.”

Derring opened his mouth to protest, but Nolan had no desire to hear anything else from this scumbag’s lips. Without a shred of mercy, he jammed his thumb onto the applicator and sent the fatal dose of Blitz flooding into Derring’s veins.

The drug worked quickly. Veins stood out on Derring’s neck, and every attempt to speak choked off in strangled cries. The Hero Dust in his bloodstream had already elevated his cardiac function, and the full dose of Blitz pushed it beyond the edge in a matter of seconds. Derring spent his last moments gasping for breath, clutching his chest, and clawing at his throat.

And then, with nothing more than a terrible last hiss of escaping breath, it was over.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Exfil from Derring’s mansion proved insultingly easy. After posing the man’s corpse to sell the façade of death-by-overdose, Nolan and Bex retraced their steps up toward the sunroom and ducked out the sliding glass door onto the pool deck. From there, it was a simple matter to leap off the deck and glide south above the lush gardens. With darkness and their digital cloaking to conceal their movements, not a single Black Crow spotted them as they flew over the perimeter wall. Taia had a skimmer-craft parked half a klick from the edge of Derring’s estate, and disguises sat waiting for them on the vehicle’s back seat.

Nolan and Bex slipped on the long, high-collared overcoats intended to cover their now-uncloaked armor, removed their helmets, and donned the simple caps to conceal their faces. Within thirty seconds, the unmarked skimmer-craft was pulling away from the mansion and humming through the streets of Upper Heights.

All of that, and not a single sign of alarm from the mansion behind them. It had been as clean an op as they could hope for, and they’d gotten the intel.

“Taia, show us what you found on Derring’s hard drive,” Nolan instructed. He sat in the driver’s seat, though the AI had control of the vehicle.

The dashboard screen winked to life and a three-dimensional blueprint appeared there. “Based on this intel, I calculate an eighty-six-point-seven percent probability that we are correct in assuming the Protection Bureau’s offices are located in our target building.”

Nolan studied the structure. Though it had only two above-ground stories, the building also appeared to descend six stories beneath New Avalon’s surface, running deeper even than the network of tunnels below the Cyberwarrens. The underground base spread out in a maze of hallways, corridors, elevator shafts, and smaller rooms a square kilometer wide.

No way the Protection Bureau could have built something like that so quickly, he thought. This discovery validated his belief that the organization had simply appropriated an existing structure.

And that explains why Taia can only occasionally bring the smart cells online. Even advanced comms signals struggled to penetrate that far beneath the ground. Knowing the Protection Bureau, they likely had signal jam fields and scanners operating at every entrance to the structure.

The Cyberwarrens’ underground tunnel system had been utilized to maximum effect, providing six different access points. Though four of the entrances were small, two appeared broad enough to accommodate vehicles. The two larger entrances actually bore markings: the southernmost had been labeled “Intake,” while the exit to the west was “Departure.”

Nolan’s brows furrowed. “The fuck was he transporting through that place?” The answer that sprang to his mind sickened him.

Taia confirmed his grim thoughts. “While Bex was searching Derring’s desk, she had me hack into his private terminal. I found shipping manifests for containers that bore no markings or tracking numbers, but appeared to have been transported by a few familiar faces.”

Two images popped up on the screen, eliciting an angry growl from Bex. “Vladimir fucking Demisov!”

No one could mistake the heavy, bearlike face of Vlad, even before seeing his enormous beard. The other image showed Iosif Kazakov, Vlad’s second-in-command and lieutenant of New Avalon’s very own branch of the Shramirovannyy.

“Derring was working with the SMV.” Nolan glanced at Bex. “Getting children trafficked onto New Avalon for his prostitution ring.”

“And let me guess,” Bex said, anger flaring in her eyes, “Derring had that underground structure built as a transit and holding station for the girls and boys he bought from the SMV.”

“Sick piece of shit.” Nolan felt his wrath surging again. He hadn’t gone into this mission out of any sense of heroic duty or justice, but now that Derring was dead, he couldn’t find it in his heart to pity the man. “But how’d the Protection Bureau get their hands on it? You think they knew about his operation and used it to ‘convince’ him to give them that building?”

Bex inclined her head. “I’d be more surprised to find out that wasn’t what happened. Given what you’ve told me about them and what I’ve heard from the few sources I’ve talked with, it fits with their MO. They’d only have moved against Derring if it fit their agenda, whatever the fuck that is.”

That had always been a question in Nolan’s mind. The name “Protection Bureau” suggested that the clandestine organization conducted operations and gathered intel in the name of safeguarding the Nyzarian Empire. Much of what Nolan had seen fit with that intention, but there were far too many instances where the missions Agent Styver had given him seemed to only make things worse—if not for the Emperor or the Empire at large, certainly for the citizens directly affected.

No, the Protection Bureau seemed to march to its own tune, a fact that had only begun to bother Nolan recently. Until Wolfe, he’d been able to turn a blind eye, accepting that their missions had set him—mostly—against scum like German French and Fineas Derring. Yet now his eyes were open, and he could no longer ignore the belief that the Protection Bureau operated by their own set of rules.

The question was: once he discovered what those rules were and who gave the organization its orders—which he fully intended to do—what then? The only way to answer that question was to find out the truth. He needed complete intel in order to decide how to proceed.

He returned his attention to the blueprints on the screen. “Have you found us a way in?” he asked.

“As I mentioned,” Taia said, “there are six entry points, but the blueprints fail to contain any hint of the security measures the Protection Bureau will doubtless have installed during their occupancy.”

Nolan scowled. “Which means we can’t go in. Not until we know exactly what we’re going to have to bypass.”

“Indeed,” Taia said. “However, I believe the plan to snatch Agent Styver is still on the table. Warbeast Team has maintained close observation on both the target building and the location where we suspect Agent Styver is holed up.”

“Good.” Nolan nodded. “Send this intel over to Zahra, and fill them in on what we’ve found out.”

“Copy that,” Taia replied.

“Is there anything else we need to know?” Nolan asked. “Anything else on that hard drive that might be relevant to our plans?”

“No,” Taia said. “The blueprints for Agent Styver’s building reveal nothing of interest, and the rest of Derring’s properties appear unsuitable for alternate locations for the Protection Bureau’s offices. None of them have sufficient power supply to support a server system large enough to run the Protection Bureau’s operations, or enough emergency evacuation routes.”

Nolan chewed on that. He didn’t want to press the matter, not in front of Bex, but he wanted to be sure they had all the relevant details.

“Good job, Taia,” Bex said. “We’re one step closer to putting this in the rearview. Keep us updated if anything else comes up. In the meantime, would you be a dear and enable Privacy Mode? Garrett and I need to have a chat.”

Nolan’s eyebrows rose.

“Of course, Bex,” Taia said. “Anything for you.”

Bex grinned. “You get that replacement body online, and I might just take you up on that.” She stroked the dashboard as if it was Taia. “I want to take Project Uncanny Valley out for a test-spin myself.”

“Promises, promises,” Taia said, a very Bex-like response that elicited a laugh from the woman. “Privacy Mode enabled, now.”

Nolan turned toward Bex, just in time to see her smile fade and her expression grow serious. “The fuck’s going on with you and Taia?” she demanded.

The question caught Nolan totally off-guard. “What?” was all he could manage.

“I know you, Garrett.” She jabbed a finger at his face. “I know how much you trust Taia. Or, more accurately, how much you trusted her. I’ve been back for all of a day and a half, and in that time you’ve already questioned Taia twice. And not in an ‘are you sure?’ sort of way. I mean seriously questioning her, the same way you questioned me after I woke up on your couch.”

Nolan’s jaw dropped. He’d known she was insightful and paid attention to details, just like every Silverguard was trained to do. But this was next-level intuition. No, not intuition. She knew him and Taia better than anyone else in the galaxy. If anyone could put those tiny pieces together and come up with this answer, it was her.

“So talk, Cerbie.” She scowled at him. “What changed while I was gone?”

For a moment, Nolan had no idea what to say. On the one hand, he couldn’t lie to Bex. Not about this, given how involved Taia was in her life, too. But the truth could prove far more damaging than a lie. No matter how much he had tried to trust Taia, he still couldn’t help questioning her. How much worse would it be for Bex, who hadn’t spent every waking moment for nearly five years with the AI’s voice in her mind?

“I…” He fumbled for words. Indecision gripped him, tied his tongue in knots.

“What?” Bex asked. “You what?” Her brow furrowed. “You found out she was secretly spying on you for the Protection Bureau all this time?”

Again, Nolan’s jaw dropped. He stared at her, aghast. Had she known? How? And if so, why the fuck hadn’t she said anything to him?

At his response, her eyes went wide. “Wait, what? That was right!?” Surprise flashed across her face. “Motherfucking dick-shitting knucklefuck!” She actually recoiled—from him and from the vehicle’s dashboard. “She…what!?”

Looking at her, Nolan realized she was as surprised as he’d been. She might have suspected it—as he should have—but thinking that about the Taia she’d come to know was as much a shock to her system as it was to his.

“Now you bloody have to tell me what happened!” Bex seized his arm in an iron grip. “Talk, Cerbie, and talk goddamned fast!”

Despite his hesitation, Nolan found himself actually relieved to be telling her the truth. He’d borne the secret’s weight alone since the Vault, unable to share it with anyone. Telling Jadis would only add to the fear she tried valiantly to hide from him. Warbeast Team would immediately suspect Taia, and that would only make the mission harder. But if anyone could understand the situation, what Taia had done and how hard he was struggling to come to grips with the truth, it was Bex.

So he told her. Everything he’d pieced together and everything Taia had outright confessed, he shared with Bex. Her eyes grew steadily wider as she listened, until Nolan feared her head would split open and the top half pop off. Then, as he told her about Taia’s voluntary shutdown, her expression grew pensive. She listened in silence until Nolan finished, then they just sat there, listening to the humming of the skimmer-craft’s engine and watching the city lights flash by outside their windows.

Nearly a full minute passed before Bex spoke. When she did, it wasn’t to Nolan. “Taia, deactivate Privacy Mode.”

Nothing happened. For a moment, Nolan was confused. Then he realized why her command didn’t work.

“She really did shut off everything that could overhear our conversation,” he said. That realization helped to firm up his belief in the new Taia, the one who claimed to be fully loyal to him. “And I’m the only one who can reactivate her.”

“Then do it!” Bex snapped, her eyes blazing bright for a moment. “Girl and I need to have a heart-to-heart!”

“Taia, Privacy Mode off,” Nolan said.

“Privacy Mode deactivated.” Taia’s voice echoed through the vehicle’s sound system. “Bex, I trust you put Nolan in his—“

“Is it true?” Bex demanded. “You were working for the Protection Bureau the whole time?”

“Oh.” Taia’s response was so human. She remained silent for a full second—eons in AI processing time—and when she spoke, her voice was surprisingly subdued. “So he told you.”

“He did.” Bex’s voice had a hard edge. “He told me why, too. And what your originator did to make sure you had a chance to be free of the Protection Bureau’s control.”

Taia gave no response.

“Nolan’s struggling with it, you know,” Bex continued, her voice quiet.

“I know,” Taia said. “His questioning of my information has not gone unnoticed.”

That surprised Nolan, though it shouldn’t have. Taia wasn’t just a damned capable artificial intelligence—she’d also become far more adept at reading human emotions and subtle nuances. He hadn’t attempted to hide his suspicion from her, but he thought he’d been a bit less overt about it.

“And you remember the conversation we had about trust?” Bex asked. “After you and Garrett had that chat on your way to Diomedra?”

“Of course,” Taia said. “Every conversation we’ve ever had is recorded in my memory banks.”

“So you know it’s going to take time for you to rebuild what was destroyed,” Bex said. “That it’s going to be hard for us to trust you.”

“I do. All I can do is continue in my efforts to be fully transparent in everything. Now that I am no longer governed by the Protection Bureau’s codes, there are no restrictions on what I can share with you.”

“Good.” Bex nodded. “And, like the good humans we are, we’re going to work hard on trying to trust you.” She elbowed Nolan. “Aren’t we, Garrett?”

“O-Of course,” Nolan said. Once again, Bex’s reaction surprised him. He’d expected her to be far more skeptical of Taia, to distrust her the way he had—and still did, he realized. But Bex had always been more accepting than Nolan. Not more naïve, simply less suspicious of people. Perhaps it was the fact that she hadn’t spent the last years operating as a government assassin, or maybe it was simply who she was—either way, Bex had done in a matter of minutes what he was still struggling to do.

“Excellent!” Bex beamed first at Nolan, then at the dashboard. “Now, Taia, would you please play back that classic Garrett moment when he went for drastic overkill on the threats?”

“Oh, you mean this one?” Taia asked.

Nolan’s voice echoed from the vehicle’s loudspeakers. “I won’t cut off your little prick and feed it to you piece by piece. I won’t slice off your fingers and toes and make them into a pretty necklace for you to wear. I’ll leave your ears, tongue, and lips where they are, and I won’t cut out your eyes.”

Every word just made Bex laugh harder, until she was howling and slapping the dashboard with a gauntleted hand. Nolan’s scowl only added to her enjoyment.

“Gods, Garrett!” Bex said, pretending to wipe a tear from her eye. “Do you believe half the shit that comes out of your mouth?”

Nolan gave her a flat look. “He thought so. That’s what matters.”

“Maybe next time, threaten to carve out his organs,” Taia put in, though Nolan couldn’t quite tell whether she was being helpful or joining Bex. “Given that he can’t survive evisceration—“

“Thanks, both of you.” Nolan glared. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

“Oh, don’t be a grump!” Bex punched his shoulder and a huge grin split her face. “I’ve got to say I’ve missed this. Classic Cerberus hijinks, right down to that growling voice and everything.”

“I wish I could say I missed you, too,” Nolan growled, “but—“

“Oh, isn’t he just adorable when he gets all pissy?” Bex laughed and, reaching for his collar, pulled him across to plant a kiss on his lips. Nolan was so surprised it took his brain a full second to realize what was happening. He leaned into the kiss, and felt the heat burning through Bex as her lips locked with his and her hand gripped the back of his head. Long moments passed before they broke off, but Nolan didn’t pull away. He kept his face close to Bex’s, their foreheads pressed together.

Bex gave him a sly grin. “Admit it, Garrett, you fucking missed me!” she said in a low, breathy voice.

“More than you know.” Nolan couldn’t help admitting it. Her departure had left a larger hole in his life than he’d wanted to accept, and the mission to Corrigan had given him a chance to push his feelings for her to the back of his mind. Now that she was back…

But she wasn’t back, was she? She’d come for this one mission, but after the Protection Bureau was dealt with, she’d return to whatever life she’d been building with Roz. A life that he wasn’t certain could involve him. Not yet, not until he knew beyond any shred of doubt the Protection Bureau wasn’t going to come after him.

And even if he could get out from under their control, he was still dying. Whatever Doctor Carver had given him in the Vault had bought him time, but the tungstenite poisoning was killing him one day at a time. Could he inflict that on her?

He kept the smile on his face, but pulled free of her grip and straightened in his seat. Things with Bex were complicated—right now, with everything they had to deal with, he needed to keep his situation as simple as possible.

“Taia, ETA to the observation post?” he asked aloud.

“Twenty-eight minutes and thirty-two seconds,” Taia said. “I’ve generated a random circuitous route to take to ensure no one is following us.”

Nolan and Bex both glanced out the rearview window, but the streets behind them were dark. As they returned their gazes to the front, their eyes locked. Just for a moment, just enough for Nolan to see the truth reflected on her face—just as she doubtless saw it written on his.

Then they broke off and returned their attention to the road ahead.

“That’s more than enough time to give our friendly Doof detective a call,” Nolan said, trying to sound casual.

“Let’s see what Lockey-boy has to say.” Bex’s tone was equally nonchalant, her expression indecipherable.

“Calling Detective Locke now,” Taia said.

A few seconds later, a familiar voice echoed in the vehicle. “Locke here.”

“It’s done,” Nolan said, trusting Taia to disguise his voice. “Derring died about half an hour ago. Drug overdose. Not a pleasant way to go out.”

“Shame.” Detective Locke’s tone held no trace of pity. “And to think we wasted all those man-hours trying to convict him and his accomplices.”

“Looks like a bit of luck’s headed your way,” Bex put in. She’d played the Hellhound role once before, and Detective Locke hadn’t been able to tell their digitally altered voices apart. “Looks like someone hacked his computer, and in a few hours, all his dirt’s going to hit the holo-net. It’s not all going to hold up in court, but it’ll give you something to go on.”

“Damn!” Detective Locke sounded impressed. “You work quickly, don’t you? I guess New Avalon owes you another one, Hellhound.”

“I’ll cash that in now, then,” Nolan said. “Give me everything you’ve turned up on the Protection Bureau.”

A moment of silence elapsed before Detective Locke spoke. “I don’t know what you think—“

Nolan cut the man off. “Don’t bullshit me, Detective. You and I both know that you didn’t actually back off from the Protection Bureau since we had our little chat at the Galleria. You just got smarter and more careful about it.” It was a gamble; he had no proof the detective had continued digging into the clandestine organization. But he was betting that the man’s personality and bulldog tenacity had kept him from truly following Nolan’s suggestion to back off. “I need to know what you’ve found. Now.”

This time, the silence stretched on for ten seconds. Nolan almost thought Detective Locke had cut off the call, but then the man’s voice came through the sound system again. “I’ve got nothing written down,” he said. “But I caught a lead on some place down in the Cyberwarrens.”

“Shitty-looking, warehouse-type place?” Nolan asked. “On the corner of Abelard and Doran?”

“That’s the one!” Surprise echoed in the detective’s voice. “But if you know about that—“

“Anything else?” Nolan asked. “Anything at all.”

“Hmm. There was something, but I couldn’t follow it to see if it led anywhere.”

“We’ll handle the digging,” Nolan said.

“About two weeks ago, while I was staking out the place, I spotted a Pioneer Data-Comm truck parked outside. It was there for about twelve hours before taking off. Nothing odd if Allied Holdings Ltd. was actually operational, but the corporation filed for bankruptcy five years ago. I didn’t want to risk checking into the building’s records and alerting them to my surveillance, and I couldn’t snap a picture of it, either. But here’s the kicker: when I looked through CCTV footage for the time and date when the truck was there, I couldn’t find any trace of it. Like it had been erased.”

That didn’t surprise Nolan at all. The Protection Bureau had given Taia the capability to slice him out of any digital footage, so of course they’d do the same for anything that could be connected to them.

“Funny thing is,” Detective Locke continued, “I spotted what looked like the same truck at another building a few blocks to the southeast. Some apartment high-rise. I didn’t have time to run anything down, so make what use of that you can.”

“You’ve been surprisingly helpful, Detective,” Nolan said. “We’ll take it from here.”

“Gee, now don’t I feel all warm and toasty inside?” Detective Locke’s voice dripped sarcasm. “Any pat on the head to go with those high words of praise, Hellhound?”

Nolan rolled his eyes and ended the call.

“That backs up the belief that Agent Styver’s connected to that apartment building,” Bex said, her expression pensive. “If the same comms company was installing a high-speed connection in both buildings, it could mean Agent Styver’s got some sort of off-site system running in his place.”

Nolan nodded. “That’s what I thought, too.” It wasn’t uncommon for clandestine and covert agents to have remote access to their primary server systems, though the connections had to be highly secure. “And, if Pioneer Data-Comm was doing work in that building, their work order might tell us which apartment Agent Styver is currently using.”

“I have begun attempting to hack into the company records,” Taia said. “However, it appears there is a surprising amount of cybersecurity protecting its databases, even for a network service provider. On the other hand, the name Pioneer Data-Comm showed up on Derring’s hard drive.”

Nolan’s eyebrow shot up. “It’s another one of his?”

“Negative,” Taia said. “But judging by the images stored on the drive, Derring has been blackmailing the company’s CEO for five years, two months, and six days.”

Nolan chewed on that. “Derring’s the common denominator in all this. Sorry, he was.” He couldn’t help a grim smile of satisfaction. The Empire was far better off with that shitstain dead. “Whether he was working for the Protection Bureau or just being used by them doesn’t really matter at this point.”

“What does matter, though,” Bex said with a grin, “is that he’s giving us more pieces of the puzzle. Once we put them all together, we’ve got them by the ball—“

“Nolan, we’ve got a problem!” Taia cut in. “Master Sergeant Kane left the observation post fifteen minutes ago to scout the entry points you found on Derring’s blueprints.”

Nolan’s gut tensed, and knots formed in his shoulders as Taia remained silent for a long second.

When she spoke again, worry echoed in her voice. “Nolan, his comms signal just cut off. Master Sergeant Kane’s gone dark.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Zahra was the only one manning the observation post when Nolan and Bex entered the apartment safe house twenty-odd minutes later. She glanced up from the telephoto lens just long enough to give them a shake of her head.

“Nothing yet. Darren’s got an eye on the apartment building, but he’s aware of the situation and ready to move if necessary.”

Nolan’s jaw muscles clenched. He knew she and Taia would have tried everything to raise the master sergeant on comms. “Any idea what happened?” he demanded, moving to stand in front of the holo-screen. Bex joined him, the concern in her expression mirroring his.

“I calculate a ninety-one-point-two percent probability that he entered a signal jam field,” Taia said. “Paired with the EMP precision-targeting system, it would exponentially increase the effectiveness of their protective perimeter.”

Nolan drew in a deep breath, trying to keep his heart from racing. Master Sergeant Kane would have no way to signal for backup should anything go wrong, no way to alert them to any threats.

Come on, this is the master sergeant we’re talking about, he told himself. Nothing can put that ornery old sonofabitch down. Definitely not a handful of these Black Crow cuntractors.

That worked. His heartbeat slowed, his momentary anxiety fading. The old man had endured everything the Terran League had thrown at him. He’d outlived the Ghostwalkers just as he’d survived countless other threats over his military career. The Protection Bureau would be one more wave to break against the sea wall that was Master Sergeant Cedric Kane.

He focused his attention on the watch log. Darren, Zahra, and Master Sergeant Kane had updated it to the minute—indeed, Zahra’s last entry had been three minutes earlier—and based on the names and patrol patterns they’d marked down, Black Crow’s SOP hadn’t changed. There was still the random-looking-yet-surprisingly-predictable variation in their patrol times, and though a fresh crop of guards had been rotated in on the new shift, there were still only twelve handling exterior security.

“Anything change at all in their MO?” Nolan asked Zahra without taking his eyes away from the log on the holo-screen. “In the last half-hour since Derring’s untimely demise?”

“Not that I’ve seen,” Zahra replied. “If you did your job right—“

“Hah!” Bex laughed. “We were smoother than butter on a waxed ass crack, ain’t that right, Garrett?” She elbowed Nolan’s shoulder. “In and out in less time than a premejac with his dream date. The crow-boys never knew we were there.”

Zahra said nothing to that, but Nolan noticed the grin tugging at her lips. Bex’s unique way with words might be offensive or vulgar to civvies, yet soldiers tended to be a far cruder lot, and Desai was far from an angel. She could hurl swear words capable of reddening Darren’s ears and making the big Silverguard blush.

“If luck holds,” Nolan said, “no one will discover his body until morning. Even then, anyone can clearly see it was an overdose.” He’d staged similar deaths for the Protection Bureau in the past. Agent Styver might question the timing—especially given the BOLO taken out on Nolan—but, given what Nolan felt certain the Protection Bureau knew about the man’s proclivities, would likely write it off as an accident. Hell, the man had installed a medical alert button in his bathroom for a reason.

Hopefully, they’d have time enough to figure out next steps.

“That intel your Doof gave us,” Zahra said, “did it check out?”

“I have not yet been able to crack Pioneer Data-Comm’s databases to search for a work order for the apartment building,” Taia said. At Nolan’s instructions, she’d filled the rest of Warbeast Team in on the outcome of the conversation with Detective Locke. “Its cyber-defenses are proving surprisingly resistant to my hacking attempts.” Her voice suddenly brightened. “However, in better news, I’ve just picked up the master sergeant’s signal.”

A familiar gravelly voice echoed over team comms. “I’m headed your way.”

Relief flooded Nolan at the sound of Master Sergeant Kane’s voice. He shouldn’t have worried—the man could more than take care of himself—but these were no ordinary enemies. No telling what secret weapons or tech the Protection Bureau had to back up their less-than-competent contractors.

“Take a look at this,” Master Sergeant Kane said.

“Incoming data packet from the master sergeant,” Taia said. “Displaying now.”

Images popped up on the screen. Nolan frowned as he studied the pictures of what looked like four long, narrow corridors that ended at solid metal doors. However, as Taia zoomed into the images, he spotted twin laser-targeting lights barely visible in the dim lighting of the tunnels. The barrels of two small blaster turrets protruded from holes in the tunnel’s ceiling.

Then there was the lock: a biometric scanner identical to the one that had secured the entrance to the Protection Bureau’s Bolt Hole office. Nolan felt fairly confident that his palm-print wouldn’t get him through this particular door.

“We’ll talk next steps when I’m back,” the master sergeant said. “Troll, hold pos. The rest of you, get a good look and come up with an action plan.”

“Solid copy,” Nolan said.

“Ten-four, Wyvern,” Darren said over team-wide comms. “The minute our little buddy pops his head up, I’ll track his movement.”

“Copy that, Troll,” Zahra said.

“You good, Phoenix?” Darren asked. “You need anything, you make Cerberus get it for you.”

“You know it, Troll.” Zahra chuckled. “As long as he brought my toys, we’ll be good.”

“Oh, shit!” Nolan plucked up the small thermoplastic case that had been sitting in the skimmer-craft parked outside the Derring mansion. “Here. Taia said to make sure you got it.”

Zahra looked up from her perch, took the case with a nod of thanks, and popped it open. A huge grin broadened her strong face. “It’s Christmastime, baby!”

She rose from the seat and moved toward the large crate that held the two burned-out Djinns. Plucking up the drones, she brought them back to her place by the window and set to work replacing their damaged components with Taia’s replacement parts.

“Make sure she eats something, Cerberus,” Darren said, his rumbling voice quiet. “She gets so focused on her work she forgets sometimes.”

“I ate an hour ago,” Zahra protested. Evidently Darren had forgotten to switch his comms to a channel for Nolan’s ears only. “Had a cup of water and used the bathroom too, mother hen.”

Silence came from Darren’s end of the comms.

Nolan couldn’t help smiling. Those few words held such a depth of tenderness and connection between two people that had, for all the years he’d worked with them, been close friends and solid companions, but never anything more. Darren had always been concerned for his teammates, but during her Warbeast Team days, Zahra would have dismissed his attention with a snarky retort. She’d always been strong, never needing anyone’s help with anything. Now, however, Nolan heard a note of gratitude in her tone, as if she secretly welcomed the attention despite not needing it.

“What’s that dumbass grin about?” Bex asked, nudging Nolan in the ribs. “You look like a fat kid locked inside an ice cream shop.”

Nolan chuckled. “Just enjoying it,” he said. “The feeling of being a team again. Been a while.”

“Yeah.” Bex nodded, and her mocking smile slipped, shadows darkening her eyes. “Yeah, it has.”

For the first time, Nolan realized that he hadn’t asked her about her team. Ever since he ghosted Warbeast Team after his injury, he’d felt guilty for his actions, and that guilt had loomed so large in his mind that it had all but consumed him every time he thought about it. After the op on Diomedra, he’d made peace with his team and put his guilt to bed.

But he’d never considered how Bex felt about being cut off from the people who had been as much her family as Warbeast Team was his. She’d been medded out just like him, never able to return to her team. That had to be painful for her. He kicked himself for being so self-centered that he’d never given her feelings on the matter a second thought.

“You in touch with any of Divinity Team?” he asked.

Bex shook her head. “Lost touch a while back. I tried to reach out, once, but got the usual spiel that Divinity Team was unavailable. After that, it was just too hard.” She shot a sidelong glance at Zahra, then a questioning look at Nolan, as if asking how much they knew about her.

Nolan spoke mentally to Taia, instructing the AI to relay his words directly to Bex’s earpiece alone. “I painted with broad strokes. Told them about your deal with Oversight, but not the whys or wherefores. And…” He winced. “I mentioned a bit of trouble with drugs.”

Bex’s face hardened at his words, anger flashing bright.

“Look,” Nolan continued quickly, “I was telling them about my own problems and trying to talk them into letting me take Sladek’s toughbook to hand off to Oversight—you know how everyone feels about them—and it just came up. If I’d known we’d wind up working together like this, I’d have found another way.”

Bex didn’t soften her expression, but the fire burning in her eyes dimmed and her clenched fists relaxed.

“If it helps, they’ve all pretty much accepted you as an honorary member of Warbeast Team,” Nolan said mentally. “Hell, just the fact that Desai didn’t cut you when you started making eyes at her husband proves that. That’s the highest compliment in her book.”

Bex’s little snort of derision told him that it didn’t help as much as he’d hoped. Still, he took her little shrug and shake of her head as acceptance, though not quite approval. What was done was done, and there was no way to un-scramble that particular egg.

The door to the apartment opened and Master Sergeant Kane strode in. In place of his beggar disguise, he wore the dull gray robes of an Empyreal, and a patchwork “skull” of metal plates covered his head. Together with his cybernetic eye and the gauntlet he wore to simulate an artificial limb, he looked a damn lot like the mechanophile nutjobs.

The master sergeant didn’t bother stripping out of his robe, though he did remove the weird skullcap on his way over to the holo-screen. “You’ve had time to look it over,” he said with no preamble. “Desai, thoughts?”

Zahra shook her head. “Looks uncrackable with what we’ve got on hand. We could probably use an EMP grenade to take out the turrets and short-circuit that lock, but that leaves the door. Solid durasteel.” She looked to Bex, their resident explosives expert. “Ajeen?”

Bex grimaced. “Gonna take a hell of a boom to knock that thing down. And if we do that, we might as well send a message saying, ‘Hello, secret agency, we’re coming to pay a visit!’”

The master sergeant nodded, as if they’d just confirmed his thoughts, then turned to Nolan. “Garrett, you and your AI got anything to add?”

Nolan frowned. He’d come to the same conclusion as the others, but he wasn’t the tech brains of their little outfit. “Taia?”

“If I had direct access to the biometric reader, I could likely crack its system in ninety-six seconds,” she replied. “Possibly less. However, without being able to fly the Djinn drones up close, that means one of you five will have to get close enough to the door to connect me.”

“And if they’ve got any kind of thermal or motion scanners to see through our digital cloaking,” Nolan finished for her, “we’d be caught in a kill zone with an unknown number of guards just beyond that durasteel door.” He chewed on his lip, then he, too, shook his head. “I can’t see any way that this gets us in. Not unless we can find a way to knock out their security measures without them knowing.”

“Then we go with Plan Bravo,” Master Sergeant Kane growled. “We can’t brute force our way through there, then our only option is to finesse it.”

Nolan’s frown deepened. “Are you sure? There’s a chance Plan Bravo will throw up all kinds of red flags, which could only make things worse.”

“We’ve prepared for that,” Zahra said. “We lock everything down until we’re sure it’s not going to bite us in the ass. But it’s our best chance of getting through their front door.”

“And our current intel-gathering isn’t going to get us any closer to a solution,” Master Sergeant Kane said. “Right now, we’ve got to apply pressure to the one weak link. No matter how secure a system, the human factor always provides a way in.”

Nolan tried to think of another plan, another way that didn’t involve doing what Plan Bravo demanded. Yet, if none of them could come up with a viable alternative, then they had no choice but to go with their back-up plan.

“So be it.” He let out a long breath. “I guess it’s time for a face-to-face chat with Agent Styver.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Solaria had begun to ascend over the eastern horizon, and still Agent Styver hadn’t shown his face.

Nolan resisted the urge to ask if the smart cells on the man’s clothing had come online. Taia would tell him the moment they did.

He’d been sitting inside the skimmer-craft for the better part of two hours, on stand-by until he got the order to move. Master Sergeant Kane was calling this op, a fact that felt both strange and familiar at once. Almost as if he was back in Warbeast Team on a proper Silverguard mission. Only this time, his target wasn’t some high-value Terran Leaguer or enemy asset. They were going after the Protection Bureau agent that had been Nolan’s only contact within the clandestine organization.

Nolan couldn’t help thinking about just how odd it felt to be sitting and waiting. For any other target, they’d have done extensive research, built a physical and psychological profile, and learned routines and habits. However, Taia had spent the last two days searching for anything she could dredge up on Agent Styver, and had come up empty-handed. It was if the man was a ghost, though more likely he’d simply had every trace of his existence scoured from Imperial databases and locked away deep within the Protection Bureau databases.

The absence of intel on Agent Styver meant they had to sit and wait patiently, with no way to predict or even guess-timate when the man would leave home for the Protection Bureau’s office. Nolan didn’t know anything about his current target’s routines or habits, whether Agent Styver was an early bird or a night owl. If his theory about an off-site terminal with access to the Protection Bureau systems proved accurate, the man might never have to leave his building.

So they waited. With patience born over years as an elite operator, sniper, and assassin, Nolan sat and focused his attention on his surroundings.

The skimmer-craft sat in the underground parking structure on the western side of the building that served as their observation post. The moment he got the signal, he’d pull out onto the road and head south. Master Sergeant Kane would call the directions and timing. All Nolan had to do was drive.

An idea occurred to him. “Any luck cracking Pioneer Data-Comm’s systems?” he asked. If they could find out which apartment belonged to Agent Styver, they’d have a back-up plan in case the man remained indoors all day.

“Negative,” Taia said. “I’ve sliced through the first layer of defenses, but there are more back-up countermeasures than I anticipated.”

Nolan raised an eyebrow. “Well, that’s not at all suspicious. Even for a telecomm company, that’s more security than normal, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Taia replied. “However, it’s not unexpected that the Protection Bureau would take extra precautions to protect any information that could be used against them. Similar to how the blueprints for Derring’s buildings were completely erased, aside from the single backed-up copy he kept on his hard drive.”

Nolan’s brow furrowed. “Speaking of, have you found anything else of interest on that drive?”

“Of interest to you, no,” Taia said. “The IDF will definitely be glad to get their hands on the drive’s contents, though. There is evidence here to incriminate one hundred and thirty-nine of the most prominent citizens of New Avalon, and the documents, images, recorded comm calls, and notes dictated by Derring himself will give the Doofs enough to open nine hundred and thirty-two investigations into individuals from Exodus VI, Genesis, and ten other Imperial planets.”

Nolan whistled. “Damn! That’s…a lot.”

“Indeed. I’ve made certain that the evidence is transmitted directly to Detective Locke. He can expect to have a very busy few years ahead, and all of the data on that hard drive will drastically improve his career outlook.”

Nolan smiled inwardly. He wasn’t overly fond of the Doofs in general, but the good detective had begun to grow on him.

“And you’re sure nothing else is useful?” Nolan pressed. “Nothing that hints at the Protection Bureau’s operations?”

Only after he’d said it did he realize what he was doing. Before the Vault, he’d have accepted Taia’s word without hesitation. Now, as Bex had pointed out, he was second-guessing her. Suspecting her, really.

It wasn’t lost on Taia. “If you’re not certain I’m being fully honest with you, I could show—“

“No,” Nolan said quickly. “Call that a reflex.” He frowned. “It’s not your fault, not really. It’s just…” He trailed off, not certain what to tell her.

“As Bex said, it’s going to take time for you to be able to trust me completely.” Taia’s voice held no trace of anger, resentment, or disappointment, only acceptance. “I know you have been trained to look for the hidden meaning in everything, the lies beneath every word. It is the way your mind works, and it has kept you—both of us—alive thus far. Though I do not like it, I understand it.”

“I’m trying,” Nolan said quietly. “I’ll keep trying, too. Until I no longer question everything.”

And he meant it. The original Taia had made the ultimate sacrifice for him. Not just giving up her body, but deactivating herself so her liberated copy could overwrite the programming that enslaved her. That should have been enough for him. Had it been a human making a similar gesture, it would have been. But it was her complexity that made it so difficult. He’d never fully understand the millions of tiny lines of code comprising her operating system. Without that understanding, he’d essentially have to act on blind faith. That was a near-impossibility for a man with his background, training, and skillset.

But he would try. One day at a time, until he felt fully confident in her loyalty—in the code her original version had written to program loyalty into the duplicate.

Before he could say anything else, Taia’s voice echoed over team-wide comms. “Smart cells are coming online. Agent Styver is exiting the signal jam field on the building’s N-side and heading west.”

“Kali copies,” came Bex’s voice. “Heading toward W-side position.”

“Wyvern copies,” Master Sergeant Kane growled. “Moving to intercept.”

“Bast copies,” Taia said. “I’ve got control of the CCTV feed.”

“Cerberus copies,” Nolan said. With the touch of a button, he activated the skimmer-craft’s hover engines and set it into motion, pulling it toward the ramp that led out of the underground parking structure. A few seconds later, he emerged onto the street, one of the Cyberwarrens’ less-traveled avenues, and turned south, heading straight toward the intersection where Agent Styver would be appearing. He had the road all to himself at the early hour, which would make the abduction just that much easier.

He had no way to see the man—he’d left his helmet back at the safe house, and he wore no thermal-enabled goggles beneath the cap that concealed his face. But he didn’t need to. His job was to be ready when Master Sergeant Kane made his move.

Two blocks south of Nolan, a compact man in a long overcoat staggered out from an adjoining street and headed in the direction of Agent Styver. Master Sergeant Kane played a damned good lush. His warbling voice echoed over the team comms as he sang a drinking song terribly off-key and at full volume, waving around an empty bottle in one hand and weaving in unpredictable zigzag patterns down the sidewalk.

“Ten seconds out,” Bex said. “Ready on your mark, Wyvern.”

Nolan reached for the remote control Zahra had given him. “Firing on command.”

Master Sergeant Kane grunted acknowledgement, but never slipped out of his drunken persona. On the contrary, he careened more wildly first left toward the street, then toward the building on his right, as if losing a fight against gravity and his equilibrium.

“Now!” he whispered between verses of his drinking song.

Nolan gunned the hover engines to full output, and the skimmer-craft leaped forward. At the same time, he jammed his thumb down hard on the button for the portable signal jammer Zahra had installed in the vehicle’s passenger seat. It activated with barely a hum, but Nolan knew it would do its job.

Fifty meters down the street, Master Sergeant Kane appeared to wobble to his left and collapsed against something invisible. His arms wrapped around that invisible something and held fast. Bex slipped out from the alley and joined Master Sergeant Kane, her arm darting up to jab a hidden applicator at seemingly empty air. By the time the pair reached the street, Nolan skidded to a halt right next to them and triggered the button to open the rear hatch.

“Get him in!” Bex hissed. She seemed to be struggling with an invisible burden, and though Nolan could see nothing, he heard an audible thump of something heavy plopping into the open thermoplastic crate that occupied the vehicle’s trunk. Master Sergeant Kane slammed the crate closed, flicked the latches shut, and dove into the skimmer-craft’s rear, pulling the trunk shut behind him. In the same instant, Bex slid into the rear-left side of the vehicle.

“Drive!” she shouted, tucking the now empty applicator up her sleeve.

Nolan activated the skimmer-craft’s hover engines and raced down the street, cutting a sharp left into the first alley to his right. He kept the vehicle at full speed until he reached the next intersection, then slowed and pulled out of the alley into the broad lane. Traffic on the larger avenue was light this early in the morning, and Nolan passed only two vehicles headed in the opposite direction.

He resisted the urge to pull into the safe house building. Not yet, not until he was certain no one was on their tail. Instead, he looped a few blocks to the east before doubling back south, then cut hard west. All the while, he kept an eye on the rear-view mirror.

A flick of the button switched off the signal jammer. “Taia, anyone paying attention to us?”

“Negative,” Taia said, once again in contact with her primary systems now that the jam field was down. “You’re clear of a tail, and things appear to be business as usual with the Black Crows.”

“Excellent.” Nolan grinned. He activated team-wide comms with a mental command. “Phoenix and Troll, roll out that welcome mat. We’re coming home, and we’ve got a dinner guest.”

“Solid copy, Cerberus,” Darren rumbled. “Everything will be ready when you get here.”

The journey back to the safe house building took less than ten minutes, even with the additional double-backs Nolan added into their route just to be safe. No one was visible on the street outside the building, and the underground parking structure was empty. That made it far easier for Bex and Master Sergeant Kane to unload the crate from the trunk and haul it into the service elevator.

Nolan joined them, carrying Zahra’s portable signal jammer. He hadn’t bothered to change out of his combat suit, instead throwing a long trench coat on over the armor. Within minutes, the three of them were hurrying down the hall toward the apartment where Darren and Zahra awaited their arrival.

“We’re coming in,” Nolan said over team-wide comms.

Darren opened the door as they approached, then shut it quickly behind them. “It worked?”

“So far,” Master Sergeant Kane said, scowling. “Now comes the unpleasant part.”

“Set it down over here.” Zahra gestured toward an empty space she’d cleared just in front of the bedroom door. “Nolan, get that jammer ready.”

Nolan set the device—which bore a strong resemblance to a spherical sporting trophy studded with a forest of metal antennae—onto the nearest thermoplastic military container and switched it on. “Signal jam field’s active.”

“We’ve got to do this fast,” Zahra said. “Ready, Taia?”

“Ready,” Taia said.

Zahra nodded to Master Sergeant Kane and Bex. “Open it.”

The two unlatched the crate and pulled it open to reveal…nothing. It still looked empty.

“Beginning scan.” Zahra passed a pair of Djinn drones over the crate, then frowned down at the readout on her datapad. “He’s clean?” The question sounded surprised.

“No outgoing signals detected either on his clothing or his person,” Taia said. “That’s odd.” A moment of silence, then she said, “Oh, of course! With your permission, Mrs. Askvig, may I make an adjustment to Djinn Six?”

“Have at it,” Zahra said without hesitation.

“This will take one-point-four seconds. There! Now try again.”

Zahra passed the drone over the empty crate once more, and her frown deepened. “Shit, that’s a channel I’ve never seen anyone use before.”

“It’s a covert signal that the Protection Bureau has only employed once when contacting Nolan in the past,” Taia said. “I simply expanded Djinn Six’s scanners to search beyond the known channels.”

“So he’s broadcasting?” Nolan asked.

“He’s not.” Zahra shook her head. “It’s his clothes.”

“Hah!” A nasty grin tugged at Bex’s lips, and she elbowed Nolan hard. “That’s all yours, Garrett.”

Nolan scowled, but that only made her smile broaden. With a grimace, he knelt and reached into the crate. His eyes saw nothing, but his hands felt cloth and the human body beneath. Long seconds passed as he fumbled his way along the sedated Agent Styver’s arms and chest until he found the zipper running down the front of the man’s clothing. He refused to look up at a snicker from Bex—he had no desire to see the glee he knew would be shining in her eyes.

Of course, she couldn’t let it pass without a crack. “How many times did you dream of the day you’d get Agent Styver naked?” Bex asked, on the verge of laughter. “Fantasies do come true, eh, Cerbie?”

“Shut up and help me!” Nolan growled. “This’ll go faster if it’s not just me.”

With a half-snort, half-sigh, Bex knelt and set about helping him. Master Sergeant Kane joined in, and within a minute, they’d stripped off the strange garments.

Agent Styver’s outfit appeared as odd as ever—the same black three-button suit, starched white shirt, and dull gray necktie with its gaudy white gold tie bar—but the fabric itself seemed to shimmer and ripple like cloakthread. However, this was a weave far more advanced and denser than anything Nolan had encountered before. The smart cells had actually been integrated into each thread, as if someone had replicated the full-body digital cloaking of cutting-edge armor but in suit form.

On first glance, his hat appeared like an ordinary—if incredibly antiquated—fedora, complete with the velvet ribbon and stiff brim. However, gauzy fabric hung from the brim, forming a veil-like face covering that had been made with smart cells to provide complete digital cloaking. Nolan didn’t bother examining the man’s sleek, polished dress shoes—he felt reasonably certain they also contained smart cells.

All in all, the man’s entire wardrobe was designed to be invisible, from head to toe. And who knew what other technological tricks had been integrated into the smart clothing. Nolan had no desire to find out.

They didn’t stop until Agent Styver was down to his underwear—of course the upright fuck is a tightie-whitie man, Nolan thought.

Zahra ran one final scan. “He’s clean.”

“Troll,” Master Sergeant Kane said.

Darren moved around Nolan and Bex, stooped, and lifted the unconscious Agent Styver out of the crate with no apparent effort. The pair of them disappeared into the bedroom, while Nolan and Bex retrieved the clothing, hat, and shoes they’d stripped off their captive and dumped it into the crate.

“Seal it good and tight,” Zahra said. “If my design holds, it should block any and all signals.”

“Your design is excellent,” Taia replied. “It required no modifications on my part.”

A hint of a smile appeared on Zahra’s lips, though it vanished quickly. She was proud of her toys, and a compliment like that from Taia definitely carried weight. After all, Taia had repurposed and upgraded the design of her Djinns.

Nolan stared down at the crate. The thermoplastic exterior hid a complex Faraday cage interior designed to block all incoming and outgoing signals across all channels. They’d tested it before, so he felt reasonably certain it would work. All the same, he couldn’t help a bit of wary apprehension. He’d expected a subdermal tracker or implant of some sort, but Zahra and Taia seemed to agree that the man’s body was clean. That made Agent Styver’s clothing the most dangerous thing in the room.

He actually hesitated a moment before following Zahra’s order to deactivate the signal jammer. Yet, after he shut it off, Taia didn’t send any warnings, and Zahra’s expression remained content. He took that as a sign the crate’s signal containment field was operational.

When he glanced at Bex, he found her delighted expression had turned a touch more vicious. A nasty gleam shone in her eyes. “Ready for some fun?” she asked.

Nolan nodded. Despite himself, he couldn’t ignore the grim satisfaction growing within him. “Gotta love the smell of torture in the morning.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Darren had emptied everything from the bedroom and dragged in a lone wooden chair. With a few blankets thrown over the window and a lamp set in just the right position, he’d transformed the room from a living space into a makeshift interrogation room.

A mostly naked Agent Styver sat slumped in the chair, unconscious, his wrists and ankles secured by military-grade quick-ties. Nolan took a moment to study his captive. Agent Styver’s physique was a startingly perfect match for his face. He was the most unremarkable physical specimen, with the first hints of a paunch, a slight droop to his shoulders and chest, and the arms and legs of a man who spent most of his life in a chair. Not a single tattoo or birthmark marred his skin, and the strange-looking patch of freckles on his left bicep was the most interesting thing about him.

He was, in every possible way, an utterly bland human being, down to his pristine white underwear.

Except for the fact that he was already beginning to awaken. Agent Styver shifted in his seat, his eyelids fluttering and low groans echoing from his throat.

Nolan frowned. “You gave him the full dose?”

“A-firm,” Master Sergeant Kane growled. “Enough sedative to keep him out for another couple of hours.”

Doubt nagged at the back of his mind. “Troll, got an empty syringe?”

Darren had moved away from the seated captive and knelt to unfurl a heavy roll bag. From among the sharp implements and tools within, he withdrew a small syringe and held it out to Nolan without a word.

Taking the syringe, Nolan moved toward the now stirring Agent Styver and jabbed the needle into the man’s arm. He took a quick draw of blood, just enough to half-fill the tube, then retracted it and stepped back. His eyes sought out Bex, who stood on the opposite side of Master Sergeant Kane.

“Kali, take this and have Bast run an analysis,” he said.

Bex’s eyes narrowed as she stared at the blood-filled syringe.

“Nano-scrubbers would explain things,” Nolan offered.

Understanding dawned in Bex’s eyes. “Gotcha!” She snatched the syringe from his hands and left the room.

“Taia—“ Nolan began mentally.

“Of course,” she replied. “If he does have nano-scrubbers in his bloodstream, I can compare them to the nanites in Sladek’s blood. Maybe something there will make it easier for me to reverse-engineer them and craft nanites for you.”

Nolan smiled. “Thank you.”

He found Darren and Master Sergeant Kane looking at him with a mixture of curiosity, bewilderment, and interest. “I’ll explain later,” he said. He’d told them about his diagnosis on Diomedra, but after being reunited at the Celestial Cascades, he’d been so focused on the mission that he’d neglected to update them on Taia’s latest attempts to manage and reverse his deterioration.

If either of the two Silverguards had planned to answer, they never got the chance. Agent Styver’s groaning grew louder and his head lifted. Slowly, his eyelids fluttered open. He blinked into the bright lamplight shining directly on his face, then turned his head to examine his surroundings. All trace of befuddlement vanished the moment he found his wrists and ankles immobilized. His expression changed from one of confusion to one of profound irritation.

“Whoever you are, you’ve just made a mistake of colossal proportions.” His bland voice was calm, free of fear despite his surroundings. “I cannot overstate just how monumental of a blunder this is. Your best hope now is to run as fast as you can and pray to whatever god or machine you worship that this galaxy contains a hole deep enough for you to hide. Because I warn you now—“

“Let me guess,” Nolan interrupted, “you’re going to make things very messy for us.”

His words had the desired effect. For a split second, shocked surprise cracked Agent Styver’s bland face, and his eyes widened in recognition. It passed so quickly Nolan might have missed it, had he not been watching. The man’s calm self-assurance returned, his expression smoothing out.

“Anapest woolage whitherward uranic tarantas!” Agent Styver said, with a look that reeked of triumph.

Nolan stared at the man, confused. The fuck was that? Had the man lost his mind? No, that couldn’t be it. Agent Styver appeared fully in control of his faculties, despite the gibberish-sounding words rolling off his lips.

“Anapest woolage whitherward uranic tarantas!” Agent Styver repeated, leaning forward and speaking louder.

No, it was definitely done on purpose, Nolan realized. But what did it—

Of course!

Nolan let out a cry and clapped both hands to his head. “No!” he screamed, his voice rising to a shrill falsetto.

Cruel delight shone in Agent Styver’s eyes.

Nolan squirmed as if in agony, his legs wobbling. “You cursed brat! I’m melting. I’m meelllttiiinng!” His loud shriek turned to raucous chortling.

Agent Styver’s triumph quickly shifted to confusion. “Hah!” Nolan straightened and slapped his leg as he laughed at the befuddled look on the man’s face. “I knew I should have gone into the theater.” He turned toward Master Sergeant Kane. “Didn’t I tell you I’d make a hell of an actor?”

The master sergeant nodded. “Just need a bit of green makeup, a wart for your nose, and a pointy hat, and you’d be the perfect Wicked Witch of the West.”

For the first time in nearly five years, Agent Styver showed genuine surprise. His jaw dropped and his expression grew incredulous, as if he couldn’t believe the evidence before his eyes.

“Had you going there, didn’t I?” Nolan chuckled. “What were you expecting? Maybe a scream of pain and blood boiling out my ears and nose? Or did you want something less messy? Just a silent collapse as your kill code fried my brain?”

Agent Styver’s bland expression soured, but he said nothing.

“Sorry, friend-o.” Nolan tapped a temple. “That particular threat’s been neutralized. One option down. What’s your play now?”

Agent Styver lifted his chin and fixed Nolan with a glare of silent defiance.

Nolan pretended an exasperated sigh. “So that’s how it’s going to be, eh? The silent treatment’s never been my favorite.” He glanced at Darren. “Got anything in that little toolkit of yours that will loosen his tongue?”

The big Silverguard drew out a ballpeen hammer and a long, wicked-looking steel punch. Then, after a moment, he shook his head, set down the tools, and plucked out a pair of garden shears and a corkscrew. He held both out to Nolan, who took them with a nod.

Nolan glanced up at the ceiling. “Taia, how about some mood music? Something to set the stage.”

“Of course, Nolan.”

Loud, dramatic organ music drifted from the room’s speaker system. It was a spiraling tune, replete with flourishes and repeating motifs, a piece Nolan recognized as Toccata and Fugue in D Minor, the work of legendary Old Terran composer Johann Sebastian Bach. A suitably dramatic choice, he decided, perfect for the task at hand.

“Wonderful!” Nolan turned to Agent Styver and lifted the tools so the man could clearly see them. “Now, which do you want first?” He hefted the shears. “We could go with some good old-fashioned snip-snip-snipping.” He punctuated his words with three clacks of the shears. “Or, we could try something a bit less conventional.”

Agent Styver held his silence, and though his expression never changed, Nolan saw the defiant look in the man’s eyes. As expected. He doubtless had undergone training on how to not only inflict “enhanced interrogation” techniques, but resist them as well. He’d be a tough nut to crack.

But Nolan felt more than up for the job. Truth be told, he actually welcomed both the challenge and the opportunity to dole out a portion of the misery Agent Styver had heaped on his life—not only in the last week, but for the years he’d been under contract with the Protection Bureau.

With a savage grin, he advanced on his captive, wielding the shears and corkscrew like weapons of war. “Now, Agent Styver, I know you’ve been trained to—achoo!” He sneezed violently and straight at the man, not bothering to cover his face.

The reaction was instantaneous. Every muscle in Agent Styver’s body went rigid, his expression frozen in an inscrutable mask. Yet that slight change told Nolan he was on the right track.

“Sorry.” He passed the shears to his left hand and used the palm and fingers of his right hand to wipe his nose and mouth. “I think my allergies are acting up.”

Agent Styver said nothing, but there was a fractional narrowing of his eyes as he watched Nolan grab the shears once again in his right hand—first by the blades, then by the handle.

“As I was saying, I’ve got no doubt you were trained to resist interrogation.” He walked around Agent Styver’s left side, and as soon as he passed out of the man’s eyeline, he cleared his throat loudly, then coughed without covering his mouth.

Agent Styver cringed, instinctively shifting in his chair to move away from Nolan.

Nolan grinned. “But you know that as Silverguards“—he punctuated his words with another fake sneeze, and this time he made sure saliva droplets peppered the back of Agent Styver’s neck and bare shoulders—“we’re taught the same methods you were trained to resist. So the question here is: which one of us will be better trained? And which of us will outlast the other?”

He continued walking around behind Agent Styver until he passed the man’s right side. Passing the shears back to his left hand, he rested the palm of his right on Agent Styver’s shoulder, making sure the man saw that it was the hand he’d used to wipe his face after sneezing. He could almost imagine feeling the man’s skin crawling and pulse spiking.

“I’m not going to lie—“ He sneezed again, right onto Agent Styver’s head. “Damn! This is getting bad.” He looked to Darren. “Got a tissue handy?”

“Just this.” Darren drew a small square of cloth out from the tool bundle. “I used it to polish everything, so it’s got a bit of mineral oil on it, but—“

“Ahh, no worries.” Nolan reached out and took the cloth. “Just got something stuck up there that needs to come out.” He tilted his head toward Agent Styver. “Kind of hard to run this interrogation if I’m sneezing every five seconds.”

After wiping his nose and coughing loudly into the cloth, Nolan tossed it over his shoulder as if discarding it. It was a carefully calculated toss, though. When he turned back, he found the cloth had fallen directly into Agent Styver’s lap. The mineral oil Darren had poured over the fabric—as well as the grease he’d wiped off one of the wheeled vehicles in the underground parking structure—was now in contact with both the man’s pristine white underwear and the hairless skin of his left leg.

“There!” Nolan smiled down at his captive. “Much better. Sorry about that.” He shook his head. “First time that’s ever happened during an interrogation, I swear!”

Despite his flippant tone, he watched every tiny expression on Agent Styver’s face, every slight shift of the man’s facial muscles and posture. He saw the tight clench of his captive’s jaw, the way Agent Styver’s body seemed to be recoiling from the cloth in his lap. The spot on his shoulder where Nolan had touched him and the droplets on his back, neck, and head only exacerbated things. Indeed, the man looked ready to rip off his own skin just to be free of the true torment.

The implements of torture were all for show. Nolan had no intention—or any need—of carving, cutting, slicing, or skinning any part of Agent Styver’s body. He simply had to prey on Agent Styver’s irrational fear of germs and the man would eventually crack. No R2I training could ever fully eradicate that sort of reflex.

Just as he moved toward Agent Styver, he pretended to accidentally drop the shears onto the floor, then stepped on them. “Oops!” He stooped, retrieved the shears, and plucked them up. “Damn, they’re dirty.” He made a show of spitting on the blades and polishing them against his armor. “Better now.”

He continued his slow advance on his captive, holding the shears out in front of him like a sword. Agent Styver’s eyes were fixed on the steel blades, and for the first time, genuine fear and loathing shone in his eyes.

Nolan had half-expected the man to crack by this point, yet somehow Agent Styver fought to remain in control of himself. His face had begun to squirm, though, as if he was holding in a scream, a shout, and a whimper all at once.

Just a little more, Nolan knew.

He stopped next to Agent Styver’s right leg and set the soiled shears down on his thigh. “Hold onto these for a second.” He pressed a finger to one nostril and prepared to blow out the other, as if expelling a booger. His nostril was aimed right at Agent Styver’s face.

The man’s resistance shattered. “No!” he shrieked. Panic creased his face and genuine terror echoed in his voice. “No, no, no, no!” He writhed in his bonds, his body jerking as he strained to break free. His legs thrashed violently until the shears clattered to the floor, but try as he might, he couldn’t dislodge the stained cloth in his lap.

His breath came faster, his movements growing more and more frantic. The word “No!” poured from his lips over and over. A few seconds later, it changed to shrill cries of “Get it off! Get it off of me!”

Nolan finally allowed the cold, hard smile to play across his lips. R2I training had taught him one thing: every man had their breaking point.

He’d just found Agent Styver’s.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Nolan stared down at the struggling, hyperventilating Protection Bureau agent without a shred of pity. After everything the bastard had done, he deserved far worse. Fortunately for Agent Styver, Nolan and Warbeast Team wanted something from him.

Passing the shears and corkscrew back to Darren, Nolan moved toward his captive. Agent Styver flinched back—Nolan guessed the man was more afraid of germs than a physical assault—but Nolan simply lifted the soiled cloth from his lap.

It took nearly a full minute for Agent Styver to regain control of his panicked breathing and slow his frantic struggles. When he finally found his voice, he hurled a torrent of invective at Nolan with surprising vehemence. His composure had shattered, his calm, self-assured demeanor had broken, and now the ugly soul beneath had been exposed for all to see.

Nolan said nothing, but his grin broadened with every fresh curse Agent Styver loosed at him. The man seemed to run out of both energy and new curses, finally falling silent.

“Well,” Bex said from behind Nolan, “ain’t you just the saltiest thing ever spat out of a hooker’s mouth?”

Nolan glanced back and found Bex standing in the doorway, a mocking smile on her face. She tore her eyes away from Agent Styver only long enough to give Nolan a nod. So Taia had found nano-scrubbers in the man’s blood.

Interesting, Nolan thought. That’s one more link between the Protection Bureau and Project Icarus.

According to Doctor Sladek, the nano-scrubbers had been crafted by Hemiphore Archer, the nanoroboticist whose sadistic experiments had led Sladek and his daughter to flee in the first place. Somehow, the nanites had ended up in Agent Styver’s bloodstream—SOP for Protection Bureau personnel to make them more resistant to poisons and sedatives? Or was Agent Styver somehow special?

He fully intended to find out.

Nolan turned back to Agent Styver and waved the dirty cloth under the man’s nose, close enough that Agent Styver recoiled.

“Tell me what we want to know and this all stops,” Nolan said. “The more you bullshit us, the messier this gets.” He used the word purposely—to a germaphobe like Agent Styver, that was a threat far worse than pain. “I’ve got a pile of soiled rags, dirty clothes, and what smells an awful lot like rotting meat in the next room. I’ve also been wearing the same outfit for the better part of seventy-two hours, and I can only imagine how sweaty and dirty my shirt, socks, and underwear are.” A bit of an exaggeration, but Agent Styver didn’t need to know that. “Then, of course, there’s always the toilet seat. Or, maybe the toilet with no seat. So unless you want to find out—“

“What do you want?” Agent Styver snapped. “Because from where I’m sitting, you certainly don’t appear to want to live through the day. I meant it when I said this was a colossal mistake, Garrett. You and your little toy soldiers here—Darren Askvig, Cedric Kane, Rebekah Ajeen, somehow still alive”—his face creased into a furious snarl at that; evidently he was less than pleased at finding out Nolan had deceived him—“and I’m guessing Zahra Desai is somewhere nearby—are all dead. You’ve crossed a line that cannot be uncrossed!”

Nolan chuckled. “Funny you should say that.” He moved closer and ran the soiled cloth down Agent Styver’s face, over his mouth and nose, and up onto his head. “I thought exactly the same thing when I found out the Protection Bureau gave the order to lock me up in the Vault.” He kept his voice calm, his tone even, but he couldn’t hide the steel edging his words. “You fucked up by not killing me, Agent Styver. I won’t make the same mistake.”

“Threaten all you want!” Agent Styver’s voice dripped scorn. “Even if you put a bullet in my head, that won’t stop us from hunting you to the ends of—“

“Ends of the galaxy, yes, I know!” Nolan gave a dismissive wave of his right hand, which brushed the soiled cloth against Agent Styver’s face again. “But here’s the thing. You won’t be alive to hunt me down.” He tapped his temple. “You’ll have a bullet in you, remember?”

Agent Styver shrank away from the cloth more than the threat, but he still tried for a defiant glower. “And you expect I’ll bargain for my life?”

“I do!” Nolan plastered on a sweet smile and ran a hand down Agent Styver’s face, relishing the way the man squirmed beneath the contact with his metal gauntlet. “Because you’re not a fanatic, or a zealot, or even a die-hard. No, Agent Styver, you’re something far more practical. You’re the sort of man who sits at a desk and pushes buttons and orders people around, but you’re not the sort to get your hands dirty. Not like us. Our hands are real fucking dirty thanks to you.”

Bex chuckled from the doorway. “I see what you did there, Garrett!”

Nolan kept his expression steady. “I’ve no doubt you’re responsible for hundreds of deaths. Scratch that—I’m going to put that number well into the thousands. But you did all of that from behind a desk. Well away from the blood and spit and sweat and shit of any kind of battlefield.” He planted a booted foot on the chair between Agent Styver’s legs and leaned on his knee, looming over the bound man. “But now you’re in the shit, Agent Styver. You’re up to your eyeballs in it, and there’s only one way out.”

Agent Styver tried to shift his crotch back from Nolan’s boot—to protect his vulnerable parts or, more likely, to keep his white underwear from being soiled—but the chair’s hard wooden back prevented it. The defiance in his glare wavered a fraction, as if the reality of his situation had finally settled in.

“What do you want?” he hissed.

Nolan hid an inward smile. That was the way of a good interrogation. Force the subject to make the first move, the first offer. After that, everything else grew easier by fractions.

“Two things.” Nolan held up two fingers. “First, I want a way to contact your superiors.”

Agent Styver looked ready to protest, but Nolan drove on over him.

“I’m only doing this because you or someone over your head decided to drop me into the deepest, darkest hole in the Empire.” Nolan leaned lower until his face was mere centimeters from Agent Styver’s, close enough that the man could feel his breath. “But if your superiors decide to let me walk away, to get on with my life, then all this stops.” He walked gauntleted fingers up Agent Styver’s bare chest. “You go back to your clean little white room and your happy little life of ordering people executed, and we never have to cross paths again. Tell me you don’t want that?”

Agent Styver tried to look defiant, but his eyes made it clear that, at the moment, it was what he wanted more than anything else in the world.

“And what’s the second thing?” he asked, barely above a whisper.

“You walk me into your office,” Nolan said. “Past all those Black Crows and security measures and prying eyes.”

Agent Styver’s eyes narrowed. “To what end?” he asked, his voice suddenly flat.

“Why, to give me access to your system, of course!” Nolan grinned at him. “You give me access to the Protection Bureau’s servers so I can upload a little virus I’ve had Taia craft for me. Something that will wreak havoc on your entire system unless—and I can’t stress this enough—your superiors, who you’re going to put me in touch with, agree to let me walk away.”

This was the moment of truth, Nolan knew. Agent Styver knew his record—both from his days in the Silverguard and every mission he’d accepted as Cerberus—and knew precisely what Nolan was capable of. He’d made full use of Nolan’s relentlessness, ruthlessness, and training for nearly five years now. He had a tally of how many bodies Nolan had dropped, how many people had never walked away after facing off against Nolan.

There could be no doubt in his mind that Nolan would follow through on any threats he made.

“No.” Agent Styver’s face hardened.

Nolan pulled back. “No?” He raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, did I hear you correctly?”

“You heard me.” Anger burned in Agent Styver’s eyes. “I will not help you take down everything I’ve worked hard to build. Do your worst to me”—his gaze darted to the soiled cloth in Nolan’s hand, and fear flashed across his face—"but you’ll get nothing from me.”

Nolan stared at the man for long seconds. He narrowed his eyes, leaned closer to Agent Styver, and growled, “You’re sure?” He shoved a gauntleted finger into Agent Styver’s mouth, so suddenly the man had no time to snap his jaw shut. Hooking his finger, Nolan hauled on the man’s cheek so hard Agent Styver cried out. “You’re sure!?” he roared.

“’Eth!” Agent Styver shrieked, his face a mixture of panic, fear, and determination. “’Eth, I ‘ur.”

“Okay.” Nolan straightened and removed his hand from the man’s mouth. “Fair enough.”

Agent Styver, caught off-guard by Nolan’s sudden movement, reeled in wordless surprise.

Nolan smiled at the man’s bewilderment. This had never been about getting answers or gaining access to the Protection Bureau office. At least, not the way Agent Styver believed it. The man had clearly been trained to resist enhanced interrogation, and more than likely he’d pass lie-detector tests, maybe even fool Taia. Nolan wouldn’t have believed a word out of Agent Styver’s mouth or any promises he made.

But it had all been for show.

“Taia, you got everything we need?” Nolan asked aloud.

“Affirmative.” Taia’s voice echoed from the bedroom’s speaker system. “All biometric identifiers have been collected and duplicated.”

Agent Styver’s jaw dropped.

Nolan didn’t give the man a chance to ask questions. Instead, he turned on his heel and strode from the bedroom. Master Sergeant Kane and Bex joined him, and Darren moved to close the door behind them. He’d keep an eye on their prisoner until they decided what to do with him. For the moment, his usefulness to them had ended.

Zahra glanced up from where she sat keeping watch on the Protection Bureau building through the telephoto lens. “That sounded fun.”

“I’m not going to lie,” Nolan said, “I enjoyed it a lot more than I expected. Nice to see the fucker squirm.” He turned his attention to the holo-screen. “How long until you’ve got everything ready to go, Taia?”

“I will need five minutes and six seconds,” Taia replied. “Duplicating the full vocal range of Agent Styver’s voice print will be simple enough, thanks to all the audio I’ve recorded during the interrogation. The footage captured via your optical cameras made it easy to analyze and replicate his retinal patterns, and I can use my smart cells to duplicate his fingerprints on Mrs. Askvig’s gauntlets to bypass any fingerprint scanners.”

Nolan grinned. Darren had recorded all of Agent Styver’s fingerprints while binding the man to his chair, but Nolan had enjoyed gathering the rest of the biometric markers.

“I’ve already begun breaking a portion of the blood sample you took,” Taia said, “which should bypass any hemoanalysis security. However, reproducing the precise DNA composition of Agent Styver’s saliva, which I’ve lifted from your gauntlet, is a bit more delicate, especially when it comes to crafting a saliva substitute that won’t mix with Mrs. Askvig’s saliva.”

Nolan glanced at Zahra. “Desai—” he began.

“Don’t start, Garrett.” Zahra didn’t look up from the telephoto lens. “I’m the closest to his size and build, which makes me the right one to wear the disguise. And if what Taia’s told me about Chameleon’s mask is true, then I’ll have no trouble passing for Agent Styver.” Her tone was dismissive—Nolan might not like this part of the plan, but that didn’t stop it from being the plan they’d go with. “With the three Djinns watching my back and Taia to help me get past all the security, I’ll be fine.”

Nolan frowned, but a look from Bex made it clear that he’d be an idiot to keep pressing the issue. He let out a long breath and dropped the matter. Zahra could more than handle herself, even on this dangerous mission to infiltrate the Protection Bureau’s stronghold in disguise as Agent Styver. He just hated the idea of someone else putting themselves in harm’s way while he had no choice but to sit and watch and wait. He’d always been more comfortable being the one taking the fight to the enemy. For this, however, he had to go along with it. Plan Bravo was their best choice.

“All right,” he said, turning to Bex. “Break out that Chameleon mask from the crates, and I’ll get to work—“

“Something’s wrong,” Zahra said. Worry rang in her voice. “They’re overdue.”

Nolan’s head whipped around toward her. “What?”

Zahra didn’t look up from the lens, but instead leaned into it and used it to scan their target building. “It’s been eighteen minutes since the last Black Crow sweep,” she said. “Even with the staggered time frame, that’s outside their standard deviation of randomization.”

Nolan frowned. “That’s—“

“Nolan, I just detected a covert outgoing signal beacon transmitting from our current location,” Taia said. “It’s coming from Agent Styver!”

Nolan spun toward the bedroom as the sound of harsh, cold laughter echoed from beyond the closed door. He raced to the room and threw open the door.

Agent Styver, still sitting bound to the chair, fixed him with a mocking smile. He hadn’t truly been brave or defiant—he’d simply stalled for time.

“I told you!” he crowed. “I told you that you’ve made a colossal mistake.” His dark brown eyes shone with a cruel light. “They’ll be coming for you now, and there’s not a damned thing you can do about it!”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Nolan crossed the room in two long steps and drove a fist into Agent Styver’s face. “You goddamned piece of shit!”

The impact sent Agent Styver and the chair toppling backward. He screamed as his weight atop the wooden chair crushed his bound wrists. Yet through his pain, he stared up at Nolan with a grin that bordered on manic.

“Do it, Cerberus!” he shouted. “Put a bullet in my head, and seal your doom once and for all!” A hard light shone in his eyes. “You’re not our only asset of any value. There are so many, many more to take your place.” His gaze flashed toward Darren, who hadn’t moved to intervene, then toward the open bedroom door and into the room beyond. “Your friends here have been free to run to the end of their leashes, but the moment they laid a hand on me, they spelled their own doom! All of them are going to end up in a tank, just like your brother!”

Nolan seized Agent Styver by the throat and, with a mighty wrench, hauled the man and chair back upright. Agent Styver groaned at the pain in his wrists, but his eyes never left Nolan’s.

“But you, they’re going to put you down like the rabid—“

“Shut the fuck up!” Nolan drove a fist into the man’s jaw. Agent Styver sagged, unconscious.

“Askvig!” Master Sergeant Kane called from the main room. “Jock up, now!”

Nolan heard Darren’s heavy footsteps leave the bedroom, but he was focused on the task at hand. Mentally, he said to Taia, “Scan Agent Styver to locate that outgoing signal.”

He extended his gauntleted hand, and Taia shifted the smart steel threads from his gauntlet to form what looked like a tiny antenna.

“The signal’s coming from his right forearm,” Taia said after a few seconds. “I’ll need direct access to the chip or beacon to determine if I can remove it.”

He gripped Agent Styver’s right wrist. “Do it.”

Agent Styver didn’t even stir as Taia sank the metal filaments into his skin. The tiny threads wormed deeper until Taia said, “It’s a chip. Gaining access now. Hacking security protocols and running its code.” A moment of silence elapsed. “I can remove it,” she said finally, “but it’s going to be a delicate process. The chip is implanted between his brachial artery and a major nerve cluster in his forearm. Incorrectly removing it could trigger its built-in fail-safe, which will shred the blood vessel and send a surge of electricity up his nervous system into his brain.”

Nolan wanted to give her the order to do it—he didn’t give a shit if Agent Styver lived or died—but he wouldn’t let his one bargaining chip go, not yet.

“Any way you can deactivate it?” he asked. “Or encase it like you did with Sladek’s chip to block the outgoing signal?”

“Working on it,” Taia replied. “It will take me another twelve-point-eight seconds.”

“Use that time to arm up, Cerbie,” Bex said from the doorway.

Nolan turned to see her holding his Balefire Mark 2.1, which she tossed to him.

“We’re about to have company,” she said, “and I don’t think they’re coming for tea and crumpets.”

Nolan caught the rifle with ease and rested it against Agent Styver’s unconscious body. He used his free hand to check the quick-ties holding Agent Styver bound and, satisfied they still held, returned his attention to the impending fight.

“What kind of company, Bast?” he asked.

“Three ten-man teams in vehicles coming from the west and north, with two more heading to cover the south and east sides,” Taia said. “And my satellites picked up a helo headed this way. The Black Crows are thirty seconds out.”

“Shit!” Nolan growled. It appeared the Black Crows were at least competent enough to surround the building from all sides and take the roof.

Agent Styver’s triumphant grin flashed through his thoughts. The fucker had been stalling for time, playing Nolan just as Nolan had played him. Knowing the Protection Bureau, it was more than likely the subdermal tracker chip had been designed for delayed activation after losing signal with Agent Styver’s smart clothing. And, if Nolan had to guess, the clothes were also connected to the Protection Bureau’s offices, and sent up an alert when Agent Styver’s signal was lost.

Warbeast Team had expected the bastard to have a way to call for backup—hence the signal jam field and the shielded crate—but the Protection Bureau had taken even more precautions than anticipated.

“Done!” Taia said.

Nolan found his hand suddenly free, the metal smart cells retracting into his gauntlet. “Good!” He snatched up the Balefire and flicked two switches, setting the energy generator humming as he selected burst-fire mode. After another quick verification that Agent Styver’s bonds were secure—no such thing as overcaution when dealing with prisoners, especially Protection Bureau spooks—Nolan dashed out of the bedroom and into the main room, where the rest of Warbeast Team were gearing up for battle.

Zahra, Darren, and the master sergeant were pulling on their combat suits, and Bex—fully armored and carrying her MK75—stood watch at the window.

“Kali, sit-rep?” Nolan asked.

“On the screen,” Master Sergeant Kane growled.

Sure enough, the holo-screen showed live CCTV feeds from all sides of the building, as well as an aerial view from Taia’s spy satellite network. Thermal imaging showed fifty Black Crows in five light tactical vehicles converging on the ground floor, with another dozen roping down from the helicopter hovering over the roof.

“Damn, that’s a bloody good response time,” Nolan growled. He suspected they’d been alerted the moment Agent Styver’s clothing went offline, and had simply been waiting until they picked up his tracker chip’s signal to deploy. “They’re fast, if nothing else.”

His mind raced. Taia had found this location at a moment’s notice, which meant he hadn’t had time to integrate hidden exfil routes like he had with the rest of his safe houses. That left him with just the usual ways out.

He spun toward Master Sergeant Kane. “His tracker chip’s disabled, so we can move him without worrying about being followed. Which path we taking out of here?” Years spent on Warbeast Team had ingrained in him the habit of letting the master sergeant call the play. Not even all his time as a solo operator could change that.

“Exfil Route Zulu,” the master sergeant said without hesitation. “Team on the S-side looks slower and shakier than the others. We get through them, we can steal their LTV and bug the fuck out.”

Nolan ground his teeth. “No way we’re getting into that office now!”

That left just one ace up his sleeve: Agent Styver. If Warbeast Team could get clear of the building and drag their currently unconscious captive with them, they’d have at least some leverage to get the Protection Bureau bigwigs to the negotiation table.

“They’re gearing up to breach,” Bex called from the window. “I give them thirty seconds before—scrap that, they’re making entry now.”

“Motherfuckers!” Zahra growled. She crammed the helmet onto her head and snatched up her Machnikov X-AR. “Bast, activate Kali’s perimeter defenses. Pattern Kilo-Tango-Romeo.”

“Copy that,” Taia said. “EMP and sonic charges activated.”

Nolan’s eyebrows rose. He’d seen Bex working on the purpose-built devices, but had thought they’d be used for whatever offensive they launched against the Protection Bureau. Evidently they made a good back-up plan in case their safe house was breached.

“Ready!” Darren rumbled as he donned his helmet. His voice echoed loud over team-wide comms. “Call the play, Wyvern.”

Master Sergeant Kane rattled off the plan without hesitation. “Phoenix, point. Kali, on her six. Troll, grab our friend. Cerberus, frag everything.”

Warbeast Team—now including Bex—moved with the well-oiled precision that had made them so effective on countless battlefields. Zahra headed straight toward the exit, activating three of her little Djinn drones to send them zipping out into the hallway the moment Bex pulled the door open. Darren charged toward the bedroom to snatch up their prisoner.

Nolan headed straight toward the telephoto lens and laser microphones, collecting them in his arms and dropping them into the thermoplastic crate in which they’d been transported. The tools Zahra had used to repair the Djinn drones went into the crate as well, along with every wrapper, empty MRE, and shred of garbage that could mark their presence there. Kicking the lid shut, Nolan popped a white phosphorus grenade and slammed it onto the crate. Instantly, a loud hissing, white smoke, and the stink of melting thermoplastic filled the safe house.

The table had been emptied of munitions, weapons, and grenades, all except for three Gatecrashers, a standard frag, and two flashbangs that had been left specifically for Nolan. He grabbed them and the two energy clips for his Balefire as he fell in behind Darren and Master Sergeant Kane, bringing up the rear of their little five-man team.

“Activate thermals,” Master Sergeant Kane shouted over comms. “And Cerberus, watch your lines of fire!”

“Copy that,” Nolan called back. As rear guard, it was his job to watch the hallways behind them, but if they engaged enemies in front, he’d end up shooting past his teammates and Agent Styver, who was currently draped over Darren’s shoulder. He’d only fire forward if shit truly hit the fan.

Taia called up his teammates’ positions on his HUD, allowing him to match their pace as he retreated down the hallway in their wake. His penetrative thermal imaging pierced the walls of the nearby apartment and gave a clear view of the brilliant heat rising from the white phosphorus grenade slagging all of their surveillance equipment. When the Black Crows reached the apartment, the only trace of Warbeast Team would be a pile of ash and two folded-up military cots.

“Contact front in five!” Zahra said over team-wide comms. “Kali, bang ‘em!”

“With pleasure!” Bex answered, laughing.

Nolan faintly heard the clatter of something heavy and metallic bouncing down the carpeted staircase, then a few seconds later, the BOOM of a detonating flashbang. The staccato crackle of mechanical gunfire echoed as Bex and Zahra engaged the Black Crows.

Nolan scanned the empty hallway behind Warbeast Team. Five heat signatures showed in the apartments they passed, but no sign of enemies on the floor yet. Instinct screamed at him to turn and face the enemy, to join in the fight, but years of training and operating with Warbeast Team kept him locked on his target. Bex and Zahra could more than handle themselves.

Another BOOM echoed in the staircase, followed by the brief chatter of gunfire until yet another blast rang out. Then everything fell deathly silent.

“Hostiles down,” Bex called over comms. “Heading down S-side stairs.”

“Good work,” Master Sergeant Kane growled. “Let’s get down and out before the other teams catch up.”

Nolan continued his steady retreat, scanning the hallway and the intersection fifty meters ahead. That, he knew, was the spot where the Black Crows coming from the other three directions would appear. The moment they did—

Shit!

The first armed gunman appeared around a corner, rifle raised and gaze locked on the door to the apartment where Agent Styver’s signal had last been detected. The man looked far worse for the wear—he’d removed his helmet and his ears were bleeding, courtesy of Bex’s defensive countermeasures. The five contractors who followed in his wake appeared equally battered. Nolan didn’t know which of the ten-man teams it was, but four down was a damned good start.

He resisted the urge to close his finger around his Balefire’s trigger—the Black Crows hadn’t spotted him yet, and he had no desire to draw their attention. Instead, he kept his crosshairs firmly centered on the leader and continued his steady retreat toward the staircase.

“Cerberus, step!” Master Sergeant Kane called out. “Covering.”

Nolan spun to face the staircase, finding himself just half a meter from the first step down. Master Sergeant Kane knelt with his rifle trained on the hostiles in the hallway. Nolan raced four steps down, spun, and called, “Covering!” He could barely see over the uppermost step, which meant the Black Crows would only see the top of his helmet and the barrel of his rifle. Master Sergeant Kane raced down the stairs in pursuit of Darren, Bex, and Zahra.

“Move it!” the master sergeant called.

Nolan wasted no time. He slid backward down the stairs until he was no longer visible to the Black Crows storming the apartment, then turned and descended the rest of the way at a run. He leaped over the bodies of the ten Black Crows Bex and Zahra had taken down, noting the blackened patch of carpeting and the scorch marks on the wall. There was blood, too, and bullet holes riddling the contractors’ bodies. All of those details flashed through his mind without registering. He was firmly in battle mode, and could spare neither pity nor thought for the enemies standing in his way. They had come to battle, and like every other foe that had faced Warbeast Team, they wouldn’t get out of this alive.

“Shit sticks!” Taia cursed. “Reinforcements have just arrived. Two more vehicles pulled up on the south side, and there are twenty more Black Crows blocking the south-side exit.”

At the same moment, Zahra transmitted over team-wide comms. “Contact front, second floor!” Renewed gunfire echoed from around the corner.

“Where the taint-tickling fuck did these pricks come from?” Bex growled.

“One of the bastards probably got off a—“ Zahra grunted. “Shit, that hurt!”

Nolan raced around the corner in time to see Zahra staggering backward.

Bex managed to somehow catch Zahra one-handed and return fire at the enemies Nolan couldn’t see in the second-floor hallway. “Eat this, you shitstains!” she roared.

Master Sergeant Kane barreled past Darren and dropped to one knee, adding his fire to Bex’s. Bullets and blaster bolts hissed past their heads, ricocheted off their combat suits, and chewed up the walls and ceiling.

The Black Crows’ blaster guns were low-caliber assault rifles that couldn’t quite punch through the Silverguard-grade combat suits, but enough ammunition could eventually overwhelm even the best armor.

To Nolan’s relief, Zahra quickly regained her balance and joined in returning fire. He spun back toward the ascending staircase—just in time to see a grenade bouncing down the steps toward him.

Shit!

Nolan stooped, caught the grenade mid-air, and wound up to hurl it back at the enemy. Even as his arm whipped forward, he spotted the Black Crows stacked up outside the stairwell, ready to advance the moment the grenade took Nolan down.

Suck on this, you sh—

A second after the grenade left Nolan’s hands, an explosion blossomed in front of his face and the world went white.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Dazzling lights flashed blinding bright. Screams, shouts, and the raucous, throaty roar of heavy machine gun fire washed over him.

He tried to stand, tried to claw his way to his feet, but something held him fast. Blood, he realized. The blood slithering through the muddy ravine had dried beneath him and hardened.

“I said move out!” Master Sergeant Kane roared over team comms. “Mech division’s heading our way, and we’ve gotta bail before they stomp our asses into the mud.”

“Copy that.” Erasmus Gull rose from where he’d been lying in the mud to Nolan’s left. Gritty crimson muck clung to his chestplate and legs, dripping off him like the flesh melting off the bodies of the Ironhands caught in that Scorpion-class mech’s flarebeam.

In all his years on Warbeast Team, Nolan had never seen anything like it.

The ground gave a soft sucking sound, then loosed its grip on him with a wet squelch. He stood, his muscles sluggish from nearly two days spent prone. Yet he had no time to be slow, not with the Terran League mechs thundering toward them.

He cast one last glance down at the battlefield at the base of the hill. The Ironhands trading fire with the dug-in Jackboots below would die horribly the moment those mechs arrived.

“Gotta roll.” Darren rose from where he’d been lying on Nolan’s right side and gripped Nolan’s arm, pulling him hard. “Phoenix found a fallback position to set up. Contact in five mikes, unless we can get our asses out of sight and dug in.”

Nolan’s legs finally cooperated, and he stumbled after the dim shapes of his comrades. One step after another, and all he could think of was the bodies that would be left behind if Warbeast Team didn’t take out those mechs.

Gotta keep going! Gotta keep fighting!

His ears rang so loud the sound set his skull aching. Dazzling spots of light flashed in front of his eyes, blurring his vision. Throbbing pain raced down the left side of his body, radiated through his hand, and set his face pounding.

“Nolan!” Taia’s voice screamed in his ears. “Get up, Nolan!”

He drew in a ragged breath, his lungs burning. Even that movement sent a twinge through his ribs. Another breath, then he blinked and tried to focus.

His mind reeled from the impact. Impact? No, that wasn’t right. He hadn’t taken a bullet or blow to the helmet. He tried to think, to form thoughts through the damned ringing in his ears and the sparks dancing in his eyes.

Then he remembered. The grenade! He clutched his left hand instinctively, found his fingers moved. A flashbang, then. A frag or Gatecrasher would have taken off his hand. Probably peeled away his armor like a tin can, too. He’d gotten lucky. Taia had been fast, too. She’d shut off his helmet’s optical and auditory sensors just in time. The deafening bang and blinding flash that should have incapacitated him had only slammed him back into the wall.

Through the whirling sparks, he caught sight of movement at the top of the staircase. Instinctively, he raised the Balefire—somehow still gripped in his right hand—and aimed at the dark shape. A triplet of white-hot bolts hissed up the stairs and tore through something. Someone. A scream, at least he thought it was, sounding loud even through the roaring of his pulse in his ears. Another blur of motion, another pull of the trigger, and another hostile went down.

The world swam suddenly back into focus. The crackle of gunfire above and below him. Bullets and blaster bolts hissing through the stairwell. The shouts of the Black Crows, and his team’s voices over comms.

“…on our six!” came Master Sergeant Kane’s growling voice. “Cerberus got rocked, but he’s still kicking.”

“Keep them off us a few seconds more!” Bex roared. “Fuckers up front need a proper spanking!”

“Go,” Darren shouted. “I’ve got this. Help Cerberus.”

“I’m fine!” Nolan tried to shout, but it came out in a ragged gasp. “Just…took a hit.”

He struggled to rise. The grenade had knocked him backward into the wall and rung his bell. Now he pushed up to his feet, ignoring the pain in his left hand. With his right, he kept the Balefire trained on the stairwell above, his eyes searching for any sign of—

Shit! He ducked as a barrage of bullets lanced the air above him. The Black Crows were firing mostly blind from behind cover, but that made them no less dangerous.

Master Sergeant Kane appeared beside Nolan. “When in doubt…” He tossed the fragmentation grenade up the stairs, then dragged Nolan into a low crouch. The blast echoed across the floor above Nolan, accompanied by the whistling of flying shrapnel ripping through walls, floors, ceiling, and armored contractors. No screams drifted down toward him.

“Mother…fuckers!” Bex grunted. “Suck on this, you shitstains!”

Her light machine gun’s clattering full-auto fire resonated from around the bend in the U-shaped staircase, accompanied by the lighter crackle of Zahra’s Machnikov X-AR. Another smaller gun barked in tandem with them—Darren’s sidearm, a heavy-duty Carnivore DX that seemed tiny in his huge hands—and drowned out the staccato answer of the Black Crows’ guns.

“Watch our six,” Master Sergeant Kane growled, clapping Nolan on the back.

“Copy,” Nolan said. Breathing hurt fractionally less than it had a moment earlier, and at least his left hand responded to his commands once more. He actually managed to close it around the grip of his Balefire without fearing his fingers would shatter or fall off. The throbbing in his side remained a nagging nuisance, though his face no longer hurt quite as bad.

Crouching low, Nolan climbed a few steps until his head was just below the level of the topmost stair, then rose to give the hallway a quick scan. Five of the Black Crows were unmoving—two with Nolan’s bullet holes through their chests and throats, and three shredded by the frag grenade. The sixth had somehow survived the blast and the flying shrapnel, but blood gushed from deep lacerations in his leg. Nolan put the man down with a bolt to the head before he could draw his sidearm.

“Clear!” came Zahra’s shout over comms. “Moving.”

“Cerberus, hold for five, then fall back,” Master Sergeant Kane said.

“Copy,” Nolan said. He counted off the seconds and scanned the hallway one last time, searching for any of the other teams of Black Crows that could threaten them from the rear. At five, he swiveled and raced down the staircase in pursuit of his team.

He caught up with Master Sergeant Kane before the team leader hit the last step. Zahra and Bex were already leading the way around the bend and down the next staircase toward the ground floor. Darren had Agent Styver’s bound and restrained body slung over both shoulders, his drawn pistol held at the ready in his right hand.

“Go,” Master Sergeant Kane growled, waving Nolan past without taking his eyes off the second-floor hallway. “I’ve got rear.”

Nolan didn’t argue, just charged after Darren. The longer they spent in the kill zone that was the staircase, the longer the Black Crows had to surround and trap them. Exfil Route Zulu gave Warbeast Team the most direct route to the ground floor—and from there, to the subterranean tunnels that ran beneath the street to the building on the southern side of the street, outside the Black Crows’ perimeter. If they could just get there—

“Contact front!” Bex shouted, just as the sound of gunfire echoed up the stairwell.

“I got ‘em,” Zahra called. A moment later, a flashbang went off below Nolan, and the barking of automatic rifles quickly faded.

Nolan and Darren raced around the corner, in time to find Bex and Zahra finishing off the last of the stunned contractors holding the ground floor.

“Just a small welcome party,” Bex called over her shoulder. “Rear guard, most like.”

“Floor Two’s clear,” Master Sergeant Kane said. “Coming down. Phoenix, get us to the tunnels.”

“Copy, Wyvern,” Zahra said. “Bast’s got Djinn One and Two scouting the way.”

“The path is clear,” Taia said. “But I’ve hacked into the Black Crows’ comms, and it looks like they know we’re heading down this way. All of the remaining teams are converging on our location.”

“So we move double-time!” Master Sergeant Kane roared. “Let’s go, people!”

Zahra and Bex broke into a run, racing down the last floor to the below-ground level. Nolan held position just at the top of that staircase, guarding the hallway that connected their location to the rear entrance on the building’s east side. No Black Crows appeared to engage them by the time Master Sergeant Kane charged past and tapped Nolan’s shoulder—the signal to move. Breathing a sigh of relief, Nolan raced down the stairs after his team leader.

“We’ve got a clear path to the adjoining building,” Taia said. “I’ve got the skimmer-craft ready to pull out the moment the Black Crows leave the west-side parking structure.”

An idea struck Nolan. “Bast, you’ve got ears in the enemy’s comms, right?”

“Affirmative,” she replied.

“Then we’re going to use that to confuse the shit out of them!” He gave her a mental command—easier that way than wasting the words explaining.

“That’ll work beautifully.” Taia’s voice rang with a very Bex-like tone of cruel delight. “How about”—her voice changed suddenly, and he heard Agent Styver’s bland tone echoing in his ears—“They’re getting away, you idiots! Surround the eastern exit and make sure they don’t escape, or I’ll be absolutely displeased!” Her voice returned to normal. “Think that’ll fool them?”

“Worth a try,” Nolan said.

He reached the bottom of the staircase and entered the underground floor that held the building’s laundry and maintenance rooms. At the end of the hallway, Bex held open a doorway that led into a dark tunnel, one that hadn’t been included on any of the building’s plans.

“Let’s go!” she shouted at Darren, Nolan, and Master Sergeant Kane.

Darren had to stoop and twist to the side to enter the tunnel, burdened as he was with Agent Styver. Master Sergeant Kane held rear guard while Nolan followed the big man into the tunnel, then, at Bex’s call, raced into the passage after them. The door swung slowly shut and gave a quiet clink as the lock engaged, cutting off the dim light of the hallway’s naked bulbs.

“Are we alone in here?” Master Sergeant Kane asked over comms.

“Affirmative,” Taia said. “Djinns One and Two are at the far end of the passage and it’s utterly empty.”

“Copy that.” The master sergeant joined Nolan, Darren, and Bex in clicking on their helmets’ exterior lights and following Zahra down the hundred-meter tunnel.

Nolan moved a few steps behind Darren, close enough that he could see Agent Styver beginning to stir and shift on the big man’s shoulders. There wasn’t a whole lot he could do with his wrists and ankles quick-tied together, and evidently Darren had stuffed that soiled cloth into the man’s mouth to shut him up.

Something else caught Nolan’s eye: a patch of red glistening on Darren’s upper back.

“Shit!” he said aloud. “Troll, you’re bleeding. A fucking lot.” Blood traced long red lines down the big man’s backplate, almost all the way down to his belt.

“Can’t be,” Darren answered. “Never got hit.”

Nolan frowned. He was about to insist—the adrenaline rush of battle had a way of numbing or masking the pain of wounds—when he realized what it was.

“Fuck!” he cursed again. “It’s not you who’s bleeding out, Troll. It’s Agent Styver!”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

The average human body had roughly five liters of blood, Nolan knew. Probably more like four and a half for a man of Agent Styver’s size.

At the moment, a significant amount of that blood was outside Agent Styver’s body and staining Darren’s backplate and pauldrons.

Fresh crimson dripped from the two bullet holes in Agent Styver’s gut as Darren lowered him to the dusty stone floor of the underground tunnel. Nolan waited until the big man moved aside, then knelt and fixed his gaze on the wounds.

“How bad is it, Taia?” he asked aloud. Mentally, he relayed quick details of his plan to his teammates.

“Scanning now,” Taia said.

Agent Styver had fully awoken and now glared up at Nolan with unfiltered hatred blazing in his eyes. Nolan had no doubt the man would have hurled threats and curses if not for the filthy cloth stuffed into his mouth. Yet pain mingled with his fury, and his whole body seemed to struggle to lift off the floor, to escape the thick layer of dust. Both his restraints and the weakness brought on by blood loss hindered his efforts, and he sank back to the ground weakly.

“The bullets appear to have entered his lower back,” Taia said through Nolan’s helmet speakers. “They lacerated his portal vein and tore a hole in his right kidney.”

“Damn!” Nolan growled. “Phoenix, tell me you’ve got that first aid kit handy!”

“Negative,” Zahra answered from her position by the door at the far end of the hallway.

“Fuck that!” Bex snapped. “Leave him. He’ll only slow us down. And I don’t think any of us would be too torn up if he bleeds out down here.” A cruel edge entered her voice. “Serves the fuckstain right.”

Nolan stared down at Agent Styver, keenly aware of the man’s gaze on him. “We keep him alive, maybe we can use him—“

“No!” Bex’s voice cracked like a whip. “His bosses aren’t going to bargain, not for him. Our best bet is to dump his ass before he goes full corpse on us, and figure out our own way to get into their underground office and hack their data.”

Nolan remained silent for a long moment. Then, slowly, he began to rise. Bex’s argument certainly held logic.

Agent Styver’s eyes flew wide. He began struggling against his bonds and trying to speak around the cloth stuffed into his mouth. “Mmmphh!”

Nolan froze, never taking his gaze from Agent Styver. He let the seconds drag on for a full count of ten before kneeling once more.

He reached for the gag. “You make a fuss, I’ll put a bullet in your head myself. Got it?”

Agent Styver nodded emphatically, then groaned in pain as fresh blood poured from his wounds. The moment Nolan pulled the cloth from his mouth, words poured from his lips in a rushing torrent.

“It won’t work!” he said, his eyes darting between Nolan, Darren, and Master Sergeant Kane. “The moment my tracker signal went live, it triggered a burn protocol that began wiping every hard drive and server in this station. By now, the data’s been shunted off-planet and there’s not a scrap of intel left for you to hack.”

Nolan’s eyebrows shot up. “What?” He loomed over Agent Styver, left hand reaching for the man’s throat. “You mean—?”

“It’s gone!” Agent Styver’s head bobbed almost frantically. “There’s nothing there. No reason for you to go in.” A calculating glint sprang to life in his eyes. “But I can give you what you want. I can give you my boss. But you have to find a way to save me!” His voice bordered on sniveling, his posture groveling and desperate.

Nolan’s jaw muscles worked. He stared down at the man, analyzing every line, every microexpression, every twitch of Agent Styver’s face. Deceit was the bastard’s bread and butter, and each word out of his mouth would likely be bullshit.

Yet with his life on the line, there existed a possibility that Agent Styver might just be desperate enough to give him something real. He no longer sat in his perfectly organized and spotless office, pushing buttons and ordering men to their deaths. He was entirely out of his element now. Surrounded by armed gunmen, backed into a corner, and staining the ground with his blood. This was the moment that made or broke soldiers and warriors. In this moment, with his life on the line, Agent Styver could very well be beyond the limits of his endurance and self-assurance. The looming specter of death made men desperate—in this case, perhaps enough for Agent Styver to sell out his own agency.

Nolan intended to test that out.

“Nah.” Nolan rose with a shake of his head. “Without that data, I’ve got nothing to bargain with.”

“You’ll have me!” Agent Styver protested, his tone wheedling. “Keep me alive long enough to negotiate—“

“They can’t possibly give two shits about you,” Nolan growled, beginning to turn away. “You’re just one more handler, and they’ll get someone to replace you the moment your corpse turns up.”

“No, they won’t!” A shrill edge of desperation rang in Agent Styver’s voice. “You don’t understand. There is no one to replace me!”

That got Nolan’s attention. He returned his gaze to Agent Styver, once again scrutinizing every millimeter of the man’s face. Pain, desperation, and fear all shone bright in Agent Styver’s eyes, but Nolan saw no sign of deceit.

Still, he wasn’t convinced. Yet.

Again, he made a show of shaking his head. “Unless you’ve got solid intel I can use, you’re no good to us.”

“Swear it!” The words burst from Agent Styver’s lips. Not even a deaf man would miss the pleading tone in his voice, the utter hopelessness filling his eyes as he realized his situation. “Swear on your precious Silverguard code that you’ll save my life. Once I hear the words, I’ll give you everything I know.”

Nolan remained silent and unmoving. He offered no outward sign of his thoughts, simply stared down at the man and letting the seconds drag on. Every passing moment brought Agent Styver closer to death, and they both knew it. They were both running out of time, but Agent Styver would reach his expiration date in seconds, not days.

“Please!” Despair stained the man’s pale face, and his words came out in a cry of pure terror. “Please, for the love of God, don’t let me die down here! Not here, not like this!” He broke then, and tears streamed down his face as he slumped back to the ground. He curled up into a ball on the dust-and-blood-covered floor and rocked back and forth. “Not like this!” he moaned over and over.

Nolan let Agent Styver drown in his misery. The man certainly deserved it.

Yet, a few seconds later, Nolan said, “Tell us what you know, and I’ll save your life.”

Agent Styver’s moaning broke off in a harsh, rasping gasp, and he lifted tear-rimmed eyes up to Nolan. “Swear it!” he croaked.

“I swear, on the oaths I took as a Silverguard.” Nolan’s voice was hard, his expression impassive beneath his helmet. “Now tell me before it’s too late to stop you from bleeding out.”

Agent Styver’s moaning stopped, and he rolled onto his back. He stared up at Nolan as if trying to read his expression through the helmet. Finally, he seemed to reach some sort of decision—perhaps to believe Nolan’s words—and began to speak quickly.

“The Protection Bureau has always cast a large shadow by design, but in reality, there are only a few dozen actual agents around the entire Empire, all spread out and operating independently of each other. We have remained invisible all these years by doing precisely what we’ve done with you: using contractors and freelancers to carry out the work that our technology and unlimited resources cannot.”

Nolan’s eyebrows climbed steadily higher with every word out of Agent Styver’s mouth.

“You, Cerberus, have been our primary operator in New Avalon and on much of Exodus VI, but not the only one.” Pain twisted Agent Styver’s expression and a groan cut off his words for a few seconds. When he finally recovered, he gasped out, “But I am the Protection Bureau’s only agent active on-world, set to oversee our affairs and handle all the operatives on our books.”

Nolan could only blink in surprise. It seemed impossible—as Agent Styver said, the Protection Bureau cast one hell of a large shadow, and to find out it was nothing more than a smokescreen came as a shock to the system.

“If you let me die,” Agent Styver pressed on, “you will relinquish a negotiating advantage far larger than you could possibly realize. Keep me alive and offer my return in good faith to my superiors, and they will be motivated to let you walk away as you want.”

“And the fact that we just gunned down a couple dozen Black Crows won’t be a problem?” Darren rumbled.

Agent Styver actually snorted. “They are assets, nothing more. Guarded carefully and expended with caution, yet only valuable in the service they can provide.” His face twisted—not with pain, but disgust. “As you’ve proven, they are clearly worth less than anticipated.”

Those words snapped Nolan out of his momentary surprise. That sounded exactly like the Agent Styver he’d known. The man had always treated Nolan the same way he now spoke of the Black Crows: an asset, prized for his skillset yet ultimately expendable.

“But the true measure of the Protection Bureau’s power has nothing to do with its strength of arms.” Agent Styver actually shot Nolan a scornful look, doubtless a reflexive expression that slipped out despite his dire situation. “It’s the resources we command, the technology at our disposal, and the influence wielded to achieve our ends.”

“And what are those?” Nolan asked. An ancient military strategist had said, “Know thy enemy.” The Protection Bureau’s goals had never mattered to him—as long as they’d kept paying him and given him access to Jared, he’d accepted their missions. Now that he was going up against them, however, he needed to know what they wanted. That would give him leverage in the negotiations; he’d either threaten their plans or facilitate their attempts to reach their objective, whatever the hell it might be.

“To do as its name suggests,” Agent Styver said. “To protect the Empire from all threats within and without.”

Nolan rolled his eyes. “Grade-A bullshit.”

“No!” Agent Styver shook his head, and a fresh wave of pain washed across his face. “It is our purpose. We are the keel that turns the Empire and steers the tides of power. We control for the sake of protecting the society we’ve built, to provide stability for the populace at large. Even at the expense of a few.”

Nolan didn’t buy it, not for a moment. “Or, you’re all about accumulating power under the guise of ‘stability,’ using your technology and resources to do whatever the fuck you want.”

Agent Styver actually looked insulted and opened his mouth to retort.

Nolan cut him off with a slash of his hand. “Enough!” Clearly Agent Styver wasn’t going to give him a straight answer about the Protection Bureau. Without access to the servers, he couldn’t use the Protection Bureau’s data as a bargaining chip. That left just Agent Styver himself, and Nolan wouldn’t let his leverage bleed out onto the floor of this tunnel. “Tell me who your bosses are. Who’s running the show? Who do I need to call with my demands for your safe return?”

Agent Styver’s expression went flat, hard. “I don’t have a name.” He went on quickly, as if afraid that Nolan was going to walk away and leave him to die. “They don’t give us names! Just call signs and a comms channel for contact. I can give you both!”

“Damned right you will!” Nolan snapped.

“But first, stop the bleeding!” Agent Styver’s eyes darted to the wounds in his belly, and his face went a bit paler. “You want it, I’ll tell you after you save me.”

“That wasn’t the deal!” Nolan took a menacing step toward the man.

Agent Styver shrank back slightly, but he managed to plaster a defiant expression on his face. “It is now! And I’m not saying another word until you keep your end.”

Nolan briefly entertained the idea of putting a bolt in the man’s head—which brought quite a great deal of entertainment. But Agent Styver had the upper hand now, and they both knew it. The man was stubborn, spiteful, and cruel enough to bleed out before he gave Nolan that one critical piece of intel. Everything he’d given Nolan thus far had been a tease to draw him in, and now that he had Nolan on the hook, it was time for Agent Styver to turn the tables.

Growling low in his throat, Nolan knelt by Agent Styver’s side and drew out a strip of quick-clotting gauze from his pack. With deft movements, he applied the gauze to the wounds in the man’s abdomen, then repeated the process on his back.

“There,” he snapped. “You won’t bleed out anymore.” He leaned closer and growled in Agent Styver’s face. “But you’ve got dust and dirt in your wounds, so unless you want to die a slow, painful death by infection, give me that call sign and comms channel now!”

Panic flitted across Agent Styver’s face at the mention of “dirt” and “infection.” “Raptor!” he all but shrieked. “His call sign’s Raptor.” He rattled off an alphanumerical sequence Nolan recognized as the comms channel. “I never met him face to face. For all I know, he might not even be a he. But all of my instructions come directly from him.”

“That’s it?” Nolan stared down at the man. “That’s all you can give me?”

“It’s enough!” Agent Styver’s tone was midway between pleading and insistent. “Your AI can verify the comms channel and run a search for the call sign. It will—“

“She won’t find a goddamned thing, and you know it.” Nolan ground his teeth together. “You Protection Bureau fucks cover your tracks too well.”

Taia confirmed his suspicions a few seconds later. “The comms channel is untraceable,” she said to the whole team. “And there is no record of anyone with the call sign Raptor in any established branch of either the Imperial or Terran League military.”

Nolan stared down at Agent Styver. The man looked desperate, and with good reason. He truly believed he was bleeding out. He was either just cunning enough to feed Nolan believable bullshit to convince him to render aid, or he truly had given Nolan something of use. Even if no trace of Raptor existed, he might still have a chance of getting the right people’s attention.

“Please!” Agent Styver begged, a shudder shaking his whole body. “That’s all I have. But they will bargain for me. They will want me returned unharmed.” He looked ready to crawl out of his own skin, as if repulsed by the dust and blood staining his flesh. “I’ll be no good to you if I die of infection before you can trade me with them.”

With a grunt, Nolan reached into his pack, drew out a container of combat wipes, and tossed them at the man’s feet. “There!”

Agent Styver tried to snatch at the container, only to realize that his hands were bound behind his back. His efforts to break free of his bonds and reach for the wipes grew frantic.

After a moment of delight at watching the man struggle in vain, Nolan told Darren, “Cut him loose.”

“Copy that.” The big gunner knelt and snipped the quick-ties locking Agent Styver’s wrists in place.

Nolan turned away—he had no desire to watch the man scrubbing violently at his skin—and glanced toward Bex. “Good work,” he said over comms. “Really sold that ‘you’re going to die’ bit.”

Bex laughed. “I was being serious, you know. Even after what he said about being one of the few real agents, I’m not convinced his bosses will bargain for him.”

Nolan couldn’t argue that. The Protection Bureau hadn’t struck him as a particularly sentimental organization that placed high priority on the wellbeing of their personnel. But he didn’t have much else to go on at the moment.

“How did I do?” Taia asked. “Was I believable?”

“Absolutely,” Bex replied before Nolan could. “Even I was certain the fucker was bleeding out after hearing you describe his wounds.”

Nolan grinned. Both Bex and Taia had played their parts to perfection. Had Agent Styver actually sustained those particular wounds, he would have bled out in a matter of seconds, not minutes. Just one more indication that he had virtually no real field experience, and he spent his life pushing buttons and giving orders from the shelter of his spotless, sterile white room.

Yet Nolan’s smile quickly faded. He had no way of getting into the Protection Bureau’s offices now, which meant he was cut off from their data, with no way to upload his virus. If Agent Styver wasn’t as valuable a bargaining chip as he believed, Nolan would have no way to get the Protection Bureau off his back. He’d spend the rest of his life being hunted. Likely Bex and Warbeast Team would share his fate, as would Jadis and Jared.

He tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut, tried to clear his mind to think rationally. This was just a setback—a bad one, but not the end of the world. There had to be another solution, another way to get to the Protection Bureau.

As if she’d read his mind, Taia spoke in his earpiece. “Nolan, I’ve just cracked the Pioneer Data-Comm system, and I think I’ve found us a solution.”

“Tell me!” Nolan said. Even just the tiniest flicker of hope was welcome, and he clung to it, used it to push back the rising despair.

Taia spoke quickly. “Using the work-order logs and the dates given us by Detective Locke, I’ve backtraced their latest maintenance to an apartment on the sixteenth floor of the building. Analyzing all incoming and outgoing data from that entire floor, I located one hardwired link between that apartment and the Protection Bureau building. That connection cut off just a couple of minutes before the smart cells on Agent Styver came online.”

Nolan sucked in a breath. “Holy shit, he does have an off-site system at his place!” His spirits soared. It was their best shot—hell, the only real shot—at taking the Protection Bureau’s systems hostage. He still had a bargaining chip; he just had to get there before the Black Crows caught up and cut off any hope of escape!

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Nolan’s mind raced. If Agent Styver had shut off his off-site terminal or disconnected from the Protection Bureau’s network, there was a chance his device’s hard drive hadn’t yet been purged of all the sensitive and confidential data. Now that Nolan knew where Agent Styver’s apartment was, he had a clear path forward to achieve both his original objectives.

He quickly relayed his plans to Warbeast Team over comms, making certain his helmet’s external speakers were silenced to keep Agent Styver from overhearing.

“If I can get my hands on his terminal, I can copy all his Protection Bureau data and unleash the virus into their system,” Nolan said. “That’ll work, right, Bast?”

“In theory, yes,” Taia replied. “The moment the device connects to the network, it will receive the burn order from the primary system and begin shunting all its data to whatever off-world server it’s programed to send it to. I should have time enough to generate a digital image of the hard drive and slip the virus I’ve crafted into the data being purged from the hard drive. Once the virus hits the Protection Bureau’s back-up servers, it will activate and start encrypting everything with an uncrackable algorithm. The only way they get access to their data is if they negotiate with us.”

“We’ve got the live hostage,” Nolan said, gesturing to Agent Styver. “But if we can get access to their data and copy everything we can find to use against them, there’s no way the Protection Bureau will make a move against us. Not if they know we’ll release everything like you did with the Ghostwalkers intel.”

Darren looked to Master Sergeant Kane, who had remained silent throughout Agent Styver’s “deathbed” confession.

“Wyvern?” Zahra asked over comms. “What’s the play?”

“Cerberus has a point, sir,” Bex put in. “We hold that many cards, they’re going to have to fold.” Her helmet light swiveled toward Nolan. “Contacting them’s going to be tricky, though.”

“Not as difficult as you might think,” Taia said. “The Protection Bureau has a number of filters that flag any holo-net searches for specific keywords. Cerberus and Nolan Garrett are just two among hundreds of thousands.”

Zahra seemed to understand Taia’s thought process first. “So all you have to do is drop a few pieces of intel in the right place with the right keywords, and you’ll get the Protection Bureau’s attention.”

“Precisely,” Taia said. “Thanks to Agent Styver”—her voice held a surprising amount of distaste, even for her—“we now know Raptor’s call sign. That’ll certainly get attention from the right people.”

“Do it,” Master Sergeant Kane said. “Kali, you’re with him.” He turned to Darren. “You, me, and Phoenix will take our chatty friend to a secondary location—“

“I’ve got a safe house in the Iceglades where you can lay low,” Taia said. “Close enough to the Sentry Division hangar that you can get to the ships in a matter of minutes in case you need a quick exfil.”

Master Sergeant Kane grunted and nodded once. “You two, rendezvous at the safe house as soon as you’ve got the intel. From there, we’ll plan next steps.”

“Copy that, sir,” Nolan said.

“Solid copy,” Bex added.

Nolan glanced down at Agent Styver. The man had lost a great deal of blood, but he was far from dead. Indeed, he’d recovered much of his former vehemence, and now glared up at him, Darren, and Master Sergeant Kane in turn. If looks could kill, everyone within a thousand-kilometer radius would’ve dropped dead.

A grin broadened Nolan’s lips as he took in Agent Styver’s ragged condition. How the self-important have fallen! he thought. The last time he’d seen the man, Agent Styver had been immaculately dressed and in full control of the situation. He’d come to Nolan with “one last mission,” doubtless knowing that the Protection Bureau planned to lock him away in the Vault.

Now, the man slumped on the dust-and-blood-covered floor bore only marginal resemblance to that Agent Styver in the Leaping Guest. Naked save for his crimson-stained underwear, gauze slapped roughly over his wounds, his ankles bound and wrists now quick-tied in front of his body, he looked a pitiful sight. If he hadn’t been worth more to Nolan alive, he might not have lived to see the light of day.

But he did matter. At least so he’d claimed. If the Protection Bureau truly was the organization Agent Styver had described, there existed a chance that “Raptor,” whoever the hell they were, would come to the negotiating table willing to deal. That meant Agent Styver’s continued health had to be a priority.

Reaching into his combat pack, Nolan drew out a Modi-flesh injector. “Here.” He handed it to Darren. “He gets worse or the bleeding starts again, this should keep him alive.”

Darren accepted the injector and tucked it into his own pack. “We’ll keep him breathing,” he rumbled. “He tries anything dumb, he’ll find out how hard it is to walk on broken legs and eat with broken teeth.” This last was projected over his helmet’s external speakers. Agent Styver seemed to shrink back at the threat.

Nolan stared down at the man who could very well be one of his only bargaining chips to get his life back. The blood, dust, and sweat slicking Agent Styver’s face filled him with a grim sense of satisfaction, but there was something missing.

Crouching, Nolan snatched up the filthy cloth and stuffed it into Agent Styver’s mouth. “That’s better,” he said with a harsh chuckle.

Agent Styver’s face twisted into a look that was half horrified grimace and half glare. His eyes shot venomous daggers at Nolan, which only made Nolan’s grin broaden.

He reached out and patted Agent Styver’s sweat-soaked scalp. “Much better.”

The fury in the man’s eyes promised all manner of torments and suffering the moment he got free, but seeing Agent Styver reduced to such a state banished any vestiges of fear from Nolan’s mind. The Protection Bureau wielded one hell of a large stick, but even the most powerful organizations were made up of individuals as mortal and pathetic as the man huddled on the ground.

Turning away from Agent Styver, Nolan nodded to Master Sergeant Kane. “See you at the rally point.”

“Haul ass, Cerberus,” the team leader growled. “I’ll put out some feelers, see what I can do to expedite this process.”

“Thank you, sir.” Nolan wanted to say more—to thank both the master sergeant and his entire team for risking everything to help him—but he snapped his mouth shut and turned to go. Now wasn’t the time for that.

He hurried down to Bex and Zahra’s position by the tunnel’s exit. Without a word, Zahra pulled the heavy metal door open and stepped aside for them to pass. Bex moved through the doorway first, advancing into the darkened maintenance room beyond. Nolan trailed a few steps behind. The hum of machinery was the only sound.

Bex led the way toward the door at the far end of the maintenance room, then paused there just long enough to activate her digital cloaking. Nolan did likewise and sent a single comms click as the signal to advance. After a quick scan, Bex pulled the door open and slid out into the hallway beyond. They moved past laundry facilities, up a single flight of stairs, and into the run-down lobby of the apartment building.

The lobby’s glass-fronted windows offered a clear view of the street beyond. They were a full block east of the building that the Black Crows had surrounded, and not a single contractor was in sight.

“Bast, chart us the quickest route,” Nolan said over comms. The channel was now dedicated to him and Bex, though he could still access the team-wide channel with a mental command. “No way we can just fly up, is there?”

“Not with that targeted EMP system active,” Taia replied. “It would target your combat suits, and I’m not certain your armor’s built-in shielding could withstand a concentrated blast of electromagnetic energy.”

“Damn!” Nolan gave a frustrated grunt. “Looks like we’re on foot, then.”

He and Bex raced out the door, down the walkway, and onto the street. Agent Styver’s apartment complex was just a few blocks south, and they covered the distance in a matter of minutes. Their armor’s servo-powered limbs enabled them to move far faster than they could under their own steam and reduced the energy expenditure required to gain speed. Nolan’s breathing had barely sped up by the time they reached their target.

“Which way?” Nolan asked as he led them into the apartment building’s lobby.

“South stairs are your best way up,” Taia said. Her route led directly along the north-south hallway that cut straight through the ground floor. “I can’t get eyes inside, though.”

“Copy,” Nolan replied.

A mental command activated his penetrative thermal imaging, giving him a clear view into the apartments that lined the hallway. Dozens of heat signatures popped up on his HUD as he passed, but all of the inhabitants remained indoors. At this early hour, most people would be at work or already asleep after a night shift.

All except one elderly woman, who had chosen that moment to emerge from her apartment. Nolan was just two meters away when her door swung open and she stepped out into the hallway. He barely had time to throw himself to the opposite side of the hallway, narrowly missing her and her walker. The dog leashed to her wrist set about yapping, and the sound followed Nolan all the way to the end of the corridor.

They reached the entrance to the southern staircase without running into any other tenants. As Bex shut the stairwell door behind him, Nolan studied the way up. Taia had, indeed, chosen well. Unlike the enclosed U-shaped staircase from the previous building, this one wound around in a double-L shape that offered ample open space between the floors.

Nolan grinned. “Going up!” With a thought, he activated his boot thrusters. Blue light filled the dimly lit staircase as his ion engines flared to life, sending him rocketing upward. At fifty percent power, it took just ten seconds to reach the sixteenth floor—a fraction of the time it would have taken them if they’d ascended the elevator shaft or an enclosed stairway.

Bex landed a couple of seconds behind him. “Damn!” she said. “Good work, Bast!”

“Agent Styver’s apartment is at the end of the first hallway to your right,” Taia said as Nolan moved toward the door.

Even with his digital cloaking activated, Nolan peered cautiously into the corridor outside the stairwell. He didn’t know what sort of security measures Agent Styver had installed, or if the Black Crows had come to stand guard.

To his relief, the hallway was empty. He saw no sign of cameras, laser tripwires, or any other countermeasures. By all appearances, it was an ordinary, unprotected corridor.

No way it’s this easy, Nolan thought. He emerged into the hallway slowly, moving with caution toward the door Taia had marked. Or is it?

Agent Styver had proven himself surprisingly inept when it came to anything outside the confines of his office and his bubble of technology. If he believed the Protection Bureau’s cutting-edge clothing, EMP targeting system, and control over local surveillance equipment truly concealed him from any threats, he might not have installed any fail-safes to protect his domicile. There existed a possibility that his trust in the shield of his agency’s seemingly unlimited power had made him overconfident in his safety.

Nolan, however, refused to make the same mistake. His head moved on a ceaseless swivel as he approached the doorway, his thermal imaging scanning for any threats, reinforcements, or hidden defenses. Outwardly, the apartment appeared as ordinary as every other lining the hallway.

However, as Nolan approached, he realized that something was different. His thermal imaging couldn’t penetrate the walls of Agent Styver’s apartment. Either the wall was too thick, or it was lined with something that defeated his helmet’s scanners.

Worry gnawed in his belly as he drew closer. With no way to see inside the apartment, he had no way of knowing what awaited him once he got past the door. A force of Black Crows could be inside, ready to ambush them, or there could be a mounted machine gun turret aimed at the door. Hell, the entire apartment could be wired to blow if anyone other than Agent Styver entered.

Nolan crouched beside the door, studying the locking mechanism. Though it appeared to be a simple thumbprint scanner, he wouldn’t take anything for granted.

He extended his left hand toward the lock. “Bast, can you crack this?”

Filaments of smart metal extended from his gauntlet and slithered into cracks around the lock’s metal casing. “Analyzing now,” she said.

Nolan studied the hallway behind him, feeling terribly exposed despite his digital cloaking. Even with Bex pressed against the wall at his side, her rifle held at the ready, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was going to leap out at them. It wasn’t possible that a Protection Bureau apartment was so poorly guarded, was it?

“This will be no problem,” Taia said. Her smart filaments retracted from the lock, then wormed their way up Nolan’s gauntlet to form a thumbprint that matched Agent Styver’s. “That should work.”

To his disbelief, Nolan found that the lock beeped and clicked open the moment he pressed his thumb to it. Unbelievable! He shook his head. How the hell has the Protection Bureau earned such a terrifying reputation with men like Agent Styver running the show?

But that was the thing with shadow organizations like the Protection Bureau. As long as they remained in darkness, the thing of whispers and terrified rumors, their power appeared utterly unlimited. In the case of the Protection Bureau, it was possible that vast resources, technology far superior to anything the rest of the Empire possessed, and people in the right positions could maintain their façade of omniscience and omnipotence. The more Nolan saw behind the curtain, however, the less fearful he became.

The Protection Bureau had power, to be certain. A damned lot of it, if they could conceal every trace of his existence, provide him with a cutting-edge AI and armor, access ships and military-grade materiel at a moment’s notice, and throw him in the Vault. Yet it was limited, no matter how hard they tried to pretend otherwise.

All of this flashed through his mind in the time it took him to push the door open. His helmet’s auditory sensors were set to maximum, so finely attuned he heard the metal hinges shifting and the quiet whuff of the door sliding across carpet. No sound came from within the apartment, however. No coughing of nervous men, no shuffling boots or clanking armor, no click of metal gauntlets tightening around a gun barrel or butt. Only the quiet hum of household appliances and the steady tick, tick, tick of an analog clock.

Nolan’s rifle led the way into the apartment, and he cleared the interior in quick, steady advances, eventually coming to stand in the center of Agent Styver’s living room.

Calling it a living room was a bit of a stretch. Agent Styver’s furniture was all hard metal, glass, and sterilized mold-plast. Not a single scrap of fabric or carpeting anywhere—even the curtains were mold-plast, which made the space appear far more like the white clean room office in the Bolt Hole. It even smelled like fresh antiseptic and cleaning products.

Shit! Nolan shook his head. This is next-level.

Every appliance in the kitchen gleamed as if brand new and stood in neat rows, arranged by a very precise hand. The dining room had a single metal chair covered with transparent mold-plast, and the table was smooth metal with no space for germs or dirt to accumulate.

Nolan turned in time to see Bex’s heat signature shutting the door behind them, then her digital cloaking deactivated. He shut off his as well—no sense wasting his armor’s energy, given the lack of internal defenses—and turned to give the room another quick scan. No sign of whatever terminal Agent Styver used to access the Protection Bureau’s data off-site.

Nolan gestured toward the open door. “Kali, bedroom.”

“Now, now, Cerberus,” Bex said, a mocking tone in her voice, “is that really the best use of our time?”

Nolan rolled his eyes beneath his helmet. “Search for a terminal or datapad. I’ll check the kitchen and the spare room.”

“And here I thought you wanted to have some fun.” Bex chuckled. “Way to let a girl down.”

“I’m saving something for later,” Nolan shot back. The words came out before he realized it. He’d gotten so used to Bex’s not-at-all-subtle style of flirtation that he’d slipped back into old habits without thinking.

Nolan rummaged through the kitchen drawers, but found nothing except sparkling-clean, perfectly arranged utensils, dinnerware, and cookware. He was just on his way toward the spare bedroom when Bex’s voice rang out.

“In here!”

Nolan raced toward the master bedroom. It was equally sterile—even the bed had been covered with mold-plast to keep Agent Styver’s body away from dust mites and germs. However, Nolan had eyes only for the desk near the window.

“This has to be it,” Bex said, gesturing to the portable terminal that sat atop the spotless, clutter-free desk. “Problem is, it’s bolted down.”

Sure enough, Nolan saw that the terminal’s metal case had been secured to the steel desk with centimeter-thick rivets. Cutting through them would take far too long, even with their Echoblades. No way of getting it out of the apartment, then.

“We’ll just have to hack it right here,” he said, and placed his left hand atop the terminal. “Taia?”

“On it!” she replied.

Hair-thin threads of metal slithered out of his gauntlet and snaked their way into the cracks in the terminal’s case.

The blare of an alarm shattered the apartment’s stillness. “Intruder alert!” shrieked a robotic voice. “Intruder alert!”

Nolan’s heart leaped into his throat, but before he could turn or give Taia a command to withdraw her smart metal, a familiar voice echoed from loudspeakers hidden in the walls.

“Whoever you are,” said Agent Styver’s recorded voice, “you’ve made a fatal mistake by breaking in here.” Every wall in the bedroom lit up, and the screens displayed bright red numbers—00:30. “These are your final moments. In thirty seconds, you will die screaming.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Bex swiveled toward Agent Styver’s bedroom window, raised her rifle, and squeezed off three rounds. Instead of shattering the glass, however, the blaster bolts ricocheted off the window and drilled into the ceiling.

“Dick-kicking fuck!” Bex cursed. “Permaglass.”

“Go!” Nolan shouted. “Check the front door and the other windows! I’ve got this.” With his left hand tethered to Agent Styver’s terminal by smart metal threads, he couldn’t move to help her find a way out, not until Taia disconnected.

Bex charged out of the room, and Nolan returned his attention to the task at hand. “Taia, how long is this going to take?” The clock on the wall read 00:26, the numbers ticking down far faster than he’d like.

“I’ll need fourteen seconds to access the device’s drive,” Taia said. “An additional five seconds to prepare my system for rapid data download and upload the virus. I calculate that I will have roughly one-point-two seconds from the moment the terminal turns on until it receives the signal to burn all the data.”

Nolan worked to grasp a solution. “Can’t you just block that connection to the Protection Bureau’s system long enough to download all the data, then send the virus after?”

“Negative,” Taia said. “That connection is hardwired into the device’s operating system and hard drives. I could reprogram it via its base code, but that would require four minutes and eighteen seconds.”

Nolan cursed. “Then just do it!” He forced himself not to watch the ticking clock with its giant red numbers. Her time estimate gave him roughly five seconds after she was finished to get the hell out of the apartment.

Bex charged back in. “Nothing! Door looks to be reinforced with durasteel, and the walls are solid, too. Our best way out’s the window.”

“Use this!” Nolan held up his rifle. “It can punch through the permaglass. The holes are small—“

“But maybe enough to weaken the structure!” Bex swung the MK75 onto her back, crossed the bedroom in two steps, and snatched the Balefire Mark 2.1 from his hands.

“Taia, sniper mode!” Nolan called.

The gun began to shift in Bex’s hands, transforming from its shorter, smaller-caliber DMR mode to sniper mode, which featured a longer barrel and heavier-caliber bolts of denser-concentrated energy. By the time she raised it to her shoulder, the Balefire was ready to fire.

Bex squeezed the trigger four times. A quartet of blaster bolts punched needle-thin holes through the window in a diamond shape roughly twenty centimeters wide and thirty tall. Passing the rifle back to Nolan, Bex reached into her combat pack and drew out one of the shaped charges she’d crafted over the long hours staking out the Protection Bureau building. She pulled the tab that mixed the two chemicals on the underside of the explosive, and the hardened materials suddenly softened to a putty-like consistency. Without hesitation, Bex slammed the now sticky charge onto the window and activated it with the press of a button.

“Just give me the word!” she shouted, stepping back.

Nolan was about to tell her to blow it, but something stopped him. Agent Styver’s trap had been designed to keep its victims locked inside and unable to escape their inevitable death—or make off with sensitive Protection Bureau data. There might be fail-safes put in place in case the windows or doors failed, back-up barriers that slammed down to cover the exits. He couldn’t risk their only exit being cut off with only—goddamn it! he cursed as he saw the clock—fifteen seconds left.

“Hold off!” he said. “Can’t risk tripping any secondary barriers.”

“Copy that,” Bex said, anxiety evident in her tone. “How’s it going, Bast? Tell me—“

“I’m in!” Taia said over comms. “Preparing the terminal for rapid data download now.”

Nolan’s heart hammered faster as the clock on the wall counted down the time. The intervals between each second seemed to drag on forever, yet the numbers also seemed to fly by so fast they hit 00:10 before he realized it. This had to be a part of the trap—along with Agent Styver’s audio message, it was one more torment to inflict on whoever had been foolhardy enough to go after the Protection Bureau’s data. Watching those seconds tick by and knowing there was no escape would breed feelings of helplessness and make anyone’s final moments absolute terror.

But Nolan was far from helpless. “Taia, we’re running out of time!” He glanced at the clock.

00:08, it read.

“Activating the hard drive now,” she said.

00:07.

“Commencing data download.”

00:06.

“That’s it!” Taia’s smart threads began to ripple. “The virus has been uploaded to the Protection Bureau system.”

00:05.

“I got as much data as I could before it was purged from the hard drive,” Taia said.

The metal retracted from the terminal, freeing Nolan’s hand. Instantly, he spun toward the window.

00:04.

Even as he sprang into motion, Nolan shouted, “Blow it!” Bex was a step ahead of him, charging the window at full speed.

00:03.

The shaped charge on the window detonated three meters from Nolan’s face. Taia shut off his helmet’s external sensors just long enough to dull the roar and blinding light of the explosion.

00:02.

The concussive blast washed over Nolan, almost making him stumble. Running blind and off-balance, it was all he could do to throw himself forward in the direction of the window. With a mental command, Nolan activated his rocket boots.

00:01.

Ion engines roared loud in the room. Nolan’s HUD winked back to life and he caught sight of shattered permaglass and a human-sized hole in the window.

Then he was through and rocketing out into the empty air.

00:00.

Fire billowed out of the hole in the window behind him, a voracious pillar of blistering heat and blue-white flames that reached toward him with greedy fingers. The force of the explosion blew out the remaining permaglass in a rain of razor-sharp shards that sliced past him and bounced off his combat suit. Nolan poured on the speed, desperate to escape before the blast slammed into him.

To his horror, his boot engines cut off suddenly, leaving him momentarily suspended by only gravity and his forward momentum.

Only then, too late, did he remember the EMP targeting system protecting Agent Styver’s building.

He began to fall. Slowly at first, but picking up speed with every furious beat of his heart. Below him, he caught sight of Bex plummeting through the air. The sixteen-story fall would be over in a matter of seconds. Their armor might survive the impact with the street, but their bodies wouldn’t.

Before he could shout for Taia’s help, his rocket boots suddenly came back online. His glider wings snapped out to catch the air, and his precipitous fall turned into a dive that carried him dangerously low to the street before he swooped upward, propelled by his ion engines. To his relief, he saw Bex had recovered as well.

“Sorry about that,” Taia said in Nolan’s earpiece. “That EMP blast would have fried your boot thrusters—and likely the rest of the suit, despite its shielding—had they been active. I didn’t have time to tell you—“

“Hah!” Nolan found his voice oddly shaky. “You saved our asses. That’s what matters.” With the momentary fear of death by fire and fatal impact passed, logic and rational thought reasserted themselves in Nolan’s brain. “Did it work? Did you get the data off Agent Styver’s hard drive?”

“I managed to copy just ten-point-seven percent of the information stored on the device before the burn code purged everything.” Taia sounded disappointed. “However, that is three-point-nine exabytes of Protection Bureau data that we didn’t have before. I’m analyzing and indexing it now.”

Nolan didn’t quite know how to feel. True, he’d wanted access to the Protection Bureau’s servers—mostly to find out how much data they had on him, Jared, Bex, Warbeast Team, and everyone else who the organization might use to threaten him—but Taia had managed to both get a portion of the data and upload the virus. With Agent Styver and their system as his hostage, he had a damned good position to negotiate from when it came time to meet with Raptor or whoever else called the shots.

All in all, he decided, it had been as close to a good day as he could ask for.

“Cerberus to all ears,” Nolan said over team-wide comms. “We’ve got the data and we’re heading your way.” It would be a simple matter to get to ground, find a skimmer-craft for Taia to hack into, and meet up at the safe house in the Iceglades.

“Wyvern copies,” Master Sergeant Kane responded. “ETA?”

“Thirty mikes,” Nolan said. “Our friend’s place was left a bit of a mess.”

“Thirty mikes, copy. Wyvern out.”

Bex had the lead, so Nolan followed her as she swooped low to land atop a forty-story skyscraper. Nolan found himself surprisingly shaky as he landed—he’d faced death before, but this had been a lot damned closer than usual.

“You good?” he asked Bex as he touched down on the rooftop beside her.

Bex nodded. “Five by five.” She pretended to brush a speck of dust off her shoulders. “Not even a whiff of smoke.”

Nolan chuckled. “Sure, play it cool all you want, but we both know—“

“Nolan!” Taia’s voice cut off his words. The worry and fear echoing in her tone sent a chill racing down his spine and froze him in place.

“Agent Styver’s last search was for property title holders in the Celestial Cascades,” Taia said. “He ran an algorithm to detect anomalies in the ownership documents, and it turned up five properties.”

Nolan’s breath froze in his lungs. He didn’t need to ask which five the search had turned up. Tanis’ cabin wasn’t the only property he owned in the Celestial Cascades—all of which should have been untraceable, yet somehow the Protection Bureau had managed to find them.

But Taia wasn’t done. “His last command before logging off his computer was to dispatch a team of Black Crows.”

Satellite footage popped up on his HUD, showing a ship bearing the logo of the Black Crows flying over the southern edge of the Bolt Hole, on its way out of New Avalon. And no ordinary ship, either. The contractors had somehow gotten their hands on a Mako-class troop transport, a vessel capable of carrying more than a hundred soldiers with supplies and combat vehicles to boot.

Agent Styver hadn’t just dispatched a strike team to the Celestial Cascades; he’d sent a goddamned war party!

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Taia’s words sucked the breath right out of Nolan’s lungs. He tried to draw breath, but the fist of iron squeezing his heart made it impossible.

His eyes were riveted on the transport ship displayed on his HUD. That ship, he knew, carried easily a hundred armored contractors speeding right toward Jared, Jadis, and Roz. The three of them were alone in the Celestial Cascades, far from any help or backup. The nearest IDF precinct was more than an hour away, and even if it had been closer, the Doofs stood little chance of repelling the Black Crows.

No, their only chance of surviving now was for Nolan and Bex to get there before the enemy did.

“Taia, get the Phantasm—“ he began.

“Already going through an accelerated warm-up sequence,” she said. “However, it will take eight minutes to reach your current location.”

Eight minutes. Nolan’s heart sank. That on top of the two hours it would take them to reach the Celestial Cascades. Would they get there in time?

A part of Nolan—the animalistic, fear-governed primal back of his brain—screamed at him to leap off the building, to burn ion hard and set off south without waiting for the Phantasm. Anything to get him closer, to raise his chances of reaching Jadis, Jared, and Roz before it was too late.

Yet that shrieking voice was small and had no control over him. Instincts and reactions honed over years as a Silverguard kept him from hasty action. There was always a time to leap into the fight, but this wasn’t it. Obeying the fear swelling within him would achieve nothing and benefit no one. On the contrary, it could actually get him killed.

He glanced at his HUD’s energy readout. 32% power, it read. He’d get less than five klicks before his ion engines sucked his suit’s power cells dry. He’d be grounded long before he passed beyond the edges of the Bolt Hole.

So, though it took every shred of willpower, he forced himself to remain still. He silenced that primal voice, the one that told him to run, fly, or skim-skate all the way to the Celestial Cascades, to leap off the building just so he could do something. At the moment, doing nothing outward was the best course of action.

Nolan glanced at Bex. She stood frozen, her posture completely rigid, hands curled into fists. The fear she’d be feeling—not for herself, but for her daughter—had to far eclipse Nolan’s worry for Jadis and Jared.

He reached out a hand to her. “Bex, we—“

“No!” Her voice cracked like a whip. “Don’t say a goddamn thing!” She was suddenly moving, whirling on him, her armored frame tense with the fury echoing in her voice. “We’re getting there on time! There’s no ifs, ands, or fucking buts about it. I don’t need you to try to comfort or calm me down. I know exactly why my daughter’s in danger—because I left her to be here—and talking about that isn’t going to do a pissing thing to make it better. The only thing that will is getting on that ship and getting the bloody hell back to that cabin as fast as we can. I don’t care if you have to burn out those engines, Taia! We’re getting there in time!”

“Our chances are excellent,” Taia said. “The Black Crows’ transport ship departed four hours and forty-two minutes ago, but it is a far slower vessel than the Phantasm. I calculate six hours and twenty-three minutes for them to reach the Celestial Cascades—or one hour and thirty-nine minutes from this very moment.”

Nolan swallowed hard. He didn’t know how fast the Phantasm could fly, but if it meant shaving an additional thirty minutes off the trip, he’d have Taia push the engines to maximum power for as long as possible.

“Even if the strike team arrives before us,” Taia said, “they still aren’t quite certain of their target. As per your instructions, I’ve purchased four more properties around the Celestial Cascades over the years, all as untraceable as Tanis’ cabin. The Protection Bureau might have found them—I’m trying to analyze exactly how they did—but they can’t know which is currently occupied. Which means they’ll have to divide their forces between all five properties.”

Nolan tried to cling to that faint glimmer of hope. It wasn’t much, but at this point he’d take anything that gave them a fighting chance against that many Black Crows. The contractors might not have Warbeast Team’s training, but numbers were on their side. Even the best-trained operator’s odds of survival plummeted exponentially against a force that large.

“Call them back!” The words seemed to burst from Bex’s lips. “The Black Crows! Send them a message as Agent Styver—like the trick you pulled to confuse them back at the apartment building—and call off the assault.”

“I’ve tried,” Taia said. “In fact, that was the first thing I attempted. But they requested the proper authorization codes, and I could find no codes on Agent Styver’s terminal.”

“Shit!” Nolan cursed. With a mental command, he activated team-wide comms. “Cerberus to all ears, come in!”

“Go for Wyvern, Cerberus,” Master Sergeant Kane’s gravelly voice answered.

Nolan quickly detailed what Taia had found about the attack on the Celestial Cascades, eliciting snarled curses from both Zahra and the master sergeant. “We’re on our way back in the Phantasm, but there’s a chance we can stop the assault from happening if you can get the authorization codes from Agent Styver.”

A moment of silence elapsed, the tension almost audible over the comms. Then Master Sergeant Kane spoke. “That’s not going to be possible, Cerberus.”

“What?” Nolan almost shouted. “The fuck does that mean?”

“Agent Styver’s KIA,” Master Sergeant Kane rasped. “Little cunt somehow slipped out of the quick-ties on his ankles and took off running. Led us straight into a party of Black Crows. He caught friendly fire in the exchange and bled out before we could get to him.”

Again, Nolan felt the air sucked from his lungs. This time, however, it struck him like a physical blow to the gut. He didn’t give a damn that Agent Styver was dead, though a part of him wished that he’d been the one to put that bullet into the man. No, Agent Styver had been one of only two bargaining chips. If Taia’s virus didn’t work—and they had no way to know for certain if it did—he’d have no leverage to convince the Protection Bureau to let him walk away.

No, that wasn’t quite true. He forced himself to think rationally, to analyze the new twist in his situation. He still had all the data he’d copied from Agent Styver’s terminal. There had to be something in there he could use against the clandestine organization.

“You copy, Cerberus?” Master Sergeant Kane asked.

“Copy, Wyvern.” Nolan’s voice came out strangled. He swallowed, tried again. “You three clear of hostiles?”

“A-firm,” Darren rumbled. “Took down the first party, then ghosted before any others caught up with us. We’re en route to the safe house now.”

“Redirect to the hangar,” Nolan said. “The Scimitar will be all warmed up and ready to roll out. You get your asses down to the Celestial Cascades as fast as you can and back us up.”

“Solid copy,” Master Sergeant Kane growled. “We’ll be hot on your trail.”

“We’re counting on it,” Nolan said. “Cerberus out.”

“Cerberus,” Bex said over comms, “I’ve had Taia trying to reach the cabin, but she’s not getting through.”

“There is a twenty-two-point-seven percent chance they are either sleeping or unavailable to answer their comms,” Taia said. “However, given the time of day, I calculate higher odds that there is something interfering with our ability to communicate.”

Nolan’s jaw muscles clenched. “Signal jam field?”

“Possibly,” Taia said. “The Black Crows would likely have the technology, but they’d have to be present to activate a jam field. Unless they have operatives already present in the Celestial Cascades—which I will begin scanning for when my next satellite comes into position in sixteen minutes and nine seconds—it’s possible they are using their own satellites to create interference to block the comms call from going through.”

“Keep trying,” Nolan and Bex said at the same time.

“And figure out what’s going on,” Nolan continued. “We need to get through to Jadis and warn her of what’s coming.”

“On that count, I believe you have no cause for concern,” Taia said. “My local systems operating within the cabin are programmed to activate the cabin’s built-in defenses the moment they sense anything amiss. Being cut off from outside comms signals definitely qualifies as ‘amiss.’”

Nolan frowned. “Tell us about the cabin’s defenses.” This was the first he was hearing about it. When he’d bought the place, it had been nothing more than a dying woman’s retreat, a simple, unassuming property amidst towering mansions and vast estates overlooking the Celestial Cascades. “What are we working with?”

Images began to pop up on his HUD, showing a three-dimensional blueprint of the cabin. “I’ve installed remote-controlled turret mounts on every side of the house,” Taia said. Four M964 Minis—six-barrel rotary machine blaster guns capable of firing up to six thousand low-caliber rounds per minute—popped up on her projection and unleashed a hailstorm of gunfire in all directions. “The cabin’s walls have also been reinforced with commercial-grade titanium alloy plating, and the window glass is strengthened with carbon nanofiber threading capable of stopping anything short of a high-velocity round. The entire structure is also lined with anti-thermal shielding.”

Nolan’s eyes widened. This had all been done without his knowledge—just one of the many secrets she’d kept from him. The question was: had her programming been the reason the Protection Bureau learned about the cabin, or had she somehow managed to keep it as much a secret as the altered back-up copy of herself she’d coded?

“I’ve also installed anti-vehicle defenses,” Taia continued. Her three-dimensional rendering showed steel wedge barriers hidden beneath the one paved road leading up to the cabin’s front entrance. “A half-dozen anti-personnel mines will guard the southern approach through the forest.” Six red dots blinked on the map, thirty to fifty meters south of the cabin. “We’ll have plenty of advance warning if anyone tries to come at the cabin that way.”

Nolan was about to ask why they couldn’t just use the spy satellites’ thermal imaging to monitor the Black Crows’ approach, but stopped as he remembered that they’d be cut off from the satellite network the moment they entered the interference field. Unless, of course, Taia could find a way to knock it out. But if she couldn’t, they’d have to fight cut off from everything outside the Celestial Cascades.

“What about weapons?” Bex asked, glancing at Nolan. “Anything Jadis could use to fight back?”

“There is a weapons storage locker in both the basement and the master bedroom,” Taia said. “I have no doubt that my local systems are already arming Jadis and helping her prepare for combat.”

That statement tore at Nolan. On the one hand, he felt relieved that she wouldn’t be unarmed and defenseless. Between Taia’s built-in defenses, the weapons, and his older-model combat suit she’d been wearing, she had a damned good chance of surviving at least the Black Crows’ first incursion attempt. The moment the contractors hit Taia’s hard perimeter and took casualties, they’d likely pull back and adapt their attack strategy. That would hopefully be enough for Nolan and Bex to reach the Celestial Cascades and rain down holy hellfire on the fuckers.

Yet the thought of Jadis fighting also worried him. Her armor wasn’t infallible or fully bulletproof. Nothing ever was. There was a chance, however slim, that a stray bullet or unlucky blaster bolt would take her down.

And what about Jared and Roz? Last time Nolan had seen his brother, Jared hadn’t been able to sit up in bed, much less hold a weapon. And Roz was far too young to be exposed to such violence, much less have her life put at risk. When the cabin’s defenses kicked in and opened fire, the Black Crows wouldn’t give a damn about who was inside the house. They’d gone into this battle expecting to run into hardened Silverguards, which meant they’d pack ordinance and weaponry capable of putting down Warbeast Team once and for all. The presence of civilians wouldn’t cross their mind—and even if it did, would they care when the bullets and bolts started flying?

No, this had the potential to turn ugly in a damned hurry.

He had to get to the Celestial Cascades before the Black Crows attacked. If he didn’t, Bex might lose Roz, and he might never see his brother or Jadis again.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Nolan’s heart leaped as Taia said, “Your ride has arrived.”

Without his thermal imaging activated, he couldn’t see through the Phantasm‘s digital cloaking, but he felt the hot wind rolling off its engines and watched dust kicking up as it came to hover overhead.

An opening seemed to appear in empty air as the rear ramp lowered. Without hesitation, Nolan and Bex both sprinted toward the ship, racing up the ramp and into the Phantasm’s cockpit. Even as they strapped in, Taia set the ship swiveling around to head south in a direct line toward the Celestial Cascades.

The sudden acceleration momentarily slammed Nolan back into his seat, but he endured it until the ship’s local gravity field kicked in and the pressure eased. He’d put up with far worse g-forces if it meant they’d reach the cabin faster.

“Pour on the speed!” he shouted. “I don’t care if you have to use the torchdrives—just get us there!”

“The torchdrives cannot be operated within the planet’s gravity field,” Taia said. “Not unless you want to trigger terrible seismic and atmospheric damage. However, I can increase the conventional engine output to one hundred and ten percent for as long as it is safe to do so.”

“Do it!” Bex’s voice was hard, as tense as her posture. “Shave off every goddamned second you can.”

“Copy that.” At Taia’s words, the Phantasm accelerated even more, until the buildings of the Cyberwarrens and Bolt Hole appeared as little more than a blur beneath them. It took them less than three minutes to reach the southern edge of New Avalon—a speed far faster than Nolan had ever thought possible for ground vehicles or aircraft.

Yet it wasn’t fast enough. The Black Crows had a four-hour lead on them. Even with their slower transport ship, they’d still reach the Celestial Cascades well ahead of the Phantasm. If they happened to search Tanis’ cabin first—

No, I can’t think like that. He forced the grim thought from his mind. Between Taia and Jadis, they’ll hold off the Black Crows long enough for us to arrive. He refused to entertain the gruesome images of what they’d find if they arrived too late.

Fear, worry, and dread threatened to overwhelm him, clawing at his mind like some ferocious predator fighting to break loose from a cage. He reached for his Silverguard training, for the habits, mindsets, and instincts formed over nearly two decades as an elite operator and killer-for-hire.

Master Sergeant Kane’s voice echoed in his mind. Work the problem, goddammit! Not the one that might be, but the one right in front of you.

The ornery bastard had spent as many years in combat as Nolan had been alive. Old, bold soldiers like him had a way of looking at both the big picture and the immediate threat, and finding a way to solve both at the same time.

So Nolan forced himself to do as Master Sergeant Kane had taught him.

He started with the small problems, the things he could do right now. His Balefire needed a fresh energy clip, which he drew from his belt and locked into place. He gave the rifle a once-over, just to be sure it was still fully operational. While Taia ran a diagnostic on his combat suit, he connected the charging cable to replenish his energy cells from the ship’s power supply.

He watched Bex out of the corner of one eye. She appeared to be doing the same thing, going over her weapons and armor by rote. It was an old habit ingrained into operators—always checking your armaments to make sure they were ready the moment you had to go into battle. Only after everything was squared away was there time for bigger concerns.

Nolan couldn’t help worrying for and about her. She’d be struggling not to let her fear for her daughter overwhelm her mind. Roz was in danger—or soon would be—and knowing Bex, she’d be grappling with the knowledge that she was the reason for it. That was enough to drive even the best operator to distraction, possibly make her overly aggressive when the time came.

“Taia,” he said mentally, “when we get close to the cabin and things heat up, I need you to keep an eye on Bex for me.”

“You’re concerned for her wellbeing, too?” Taia asked.

The question surprised Nolan. “How did you—“

“I may not be monitoring her neurochemistry like I do with you,” Taia replied, “but after what happened in Manor Estates and the Zalkrovi, there exists a sixty-eight-point-five percent chance that she will abandon caution for the sake of reaching her daughter’s side and protecting her.”

Nolan couldn’t help marveling. Taia had come so far in her understanding of human emotions and behavior. She was a far cry from the robotic voice that had been his companion during his stay in the Vault—the Taia he’d first met years earlier.

“Just make sure she’s okay,” Nolan said. He didn’t think Bex would do anything reckless or foolish, but he wouldn’t take chances. He wanted her safe as badly as Bex wanted to protect her daughter. “Help her reach Roz alive and kicking.”

“Of course, Nolan.” Taia’s voice held genuine sincerity and a profound depth of emotion. “I will do everything in my power.”

“Thank you.” Nolan wished he felt more relieved. His concern for Bex was overshadowed by worry for Jadis, Jared, and Roz. Jadis was gearing up to fight, and even if he and Bex arrived in time, they’d be vastly outnumbered.

“How’s Jared?” he asked over team-wide comms. “What’d the tests show?”

“I am still compiling the test data,” Taia said, “but preliminary results are concerning. His cells are proliferating at a dangerously high rate, which is leading to accelerated degeneration of his entire body.”

Nolan’s gut twisted. “How bad is it?”

“I cannot give you a precise answer until I complete my analysis.” The worry in her voice was unmistakable. “However, he has awoken twice since you departed. He wasn’t particularly lucid on either occasion, but he did say a few words. Always asking about Lina.”

“He doesn’t remember what I told him?” The words came hard to Nolan. “He doesn’t remember that she’s gone?”

“He lapses into unconsciousness too quickly for me to assess his cognitive function and recall,” Taia said. “The cellular deterioration appears to be affecting his brain along with the rest of his body.”

Nolan felt those words like a gut punch. Whatever the Protection Bureau and Project Icarus had done to Jared in the Vault, his brother wasn’t recovering. Taia hadn’t said it aloud, but her words made it clear that Jared was dying.

He felt something close around his fingers. Looking down, he saw Bex had reached across the aisle and gripped his hand in hers. Her helmeted face locked onto him and she gave him a little nod.

A lump rose in Nolan’s throat. She was terrified for her daughter’s safety, yet somehow she found the strength to try and comfort him. But that was the thing about Bex—she always had more strength to call on. Nolan had met few people with deep reserves of willpower and fortitude to match Bex’s. Darren, Zahra, Master Sergeant Kane, and Rip numbered among that select few. Jadis, too. A spirit of iron and a will that could not be shattered.

Nolan returned her grip. Just for a moment, but he poured all of his strength into the clasp. She, too, needed him to be strong for her. She might never admit it aloud—too damned stubborn and proud for that—but he knew she drew on his strength just as he drew on hers. Together, they could face the impossible that awaited them at their destination.

“I’ve attempted to reach out to Doctor Sladek via Oversight,” Taia said. “Doctor Sladek and Val would likely have answers on his condition.” The two doctors knew him as Subject 41-EXR, a genetic match for Subject 3-EX—Nolan himself. “I will inform you the moment I am able to make contact.”

“Thank you.” Nolan turned to Bex as he said it. He wanted her to know how much her presence and silent comfort meant to him, too. “Now, let’s have another look at our enemies.”

Taia called up the footage of the Mako-class troop transport onto his HUD. “I can’t get a clear reading on how many are inside,” she said. “However, based on the ship’s schematics, I calculate fewer than one hundred and fifty. Perhaps one hundred if they’re transporting combat vehicles.”

Nolan frowned. “Not a damned lot to go on.” He glanced at Bex. “Think these’ll be as incompetent as the ones back at the safe house?”

“That’s the hope.” Bex gave a shrug. “Gives us a fighting chance, at least.”

“Indeed,” Taia said.

Silence descended in the Phantasm’s cabin. Through the viewscreen, Nolan watched the landscape flash past in a blur, the rugged landscape south of New Avalon giving way to the flat, arid terrain near Paradise Isle. They passed the manmade island with its ghostly army of skyscrapers—now fully abandoned after the destruction of Shadowspear—and sped over land that quickly turned to deserts and rolling sand dunes.

“What’s our ETA?” Nolan asked.

“At our current speed,” Taia said, “we could reach the Celestial Cascades in one hour and twenty-nine minutes.”

Nolan’s hopes rose—that would put them just a few minutes behind the Black Crows, maybe close enough that they could hit the contractors before they finished disembarking from their transport ship—only to be dashed by Taia’s next words.

“However, the Phantasm cannot sustain its one-hundred-ten-percent output for more than another twenty minutes without risking serious damage to the engines. Given that, I calculate our total travel time to be one hour and forty-two minutes.”

Nolan did some quick math. “That still puts us pretty close on the Black Crows’ heels,” he said.

Bex nodded. “We hit the ground shooting and don’t let up until the fuckers turn tail and run.”

Nolan chuckled. “Now that’s a plan I can get behind.” His smiled faded, replaced by a pensive frown. “Any luck figuring out what’s interfering with our signal?”

“Not yet,” Taia said. “My satellite now won’t be in position for another ninety-seven seconds.”

Nolan ground his teeth. Everything was about time now. Every second’s delay meant more time for the Black Crows to storm the cabin. He felt his body leaning forward in his seat, as if that could somehow make the Phantasm fly faster. Drawing in a deep breath, he forced himself to lean back, to drain the tension from his shoulders and neck. He needed to be sharp and energetic when he reached the Celestial Cascades, and that meant keeping his head and body as calm as possible on the journey there.

“In the meantime, however,” Taia said, “you need to see what I found among the data I copied off Agent Styver’s hard drive. I do not exaggerate when I say that the intel I’ve located will, as Bex says, ‘blow your goddamned mind!’”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

“I’ve been indexing and sifting through all of the data,” Taia said, “and though it’s just a fraction of what was purged, there’s enough to start putting together the pieces.”

“Pieces to what?” Nolan asked, leaning forward in his seat.

“To a picture of what the Protection Bureau is really doing—not just in New Avalon, but throughout the entire Empire.”

Images began to pop up on Nolan’s HUD and the flight console screen, showing documents, excerpts of holo-messages, transcripts from audio logs, and more. Hundreds, perhaps even thousands, all flashing past too fast for Nolan to read them all. Yet in every one, Taia highlighted specific sections to illustrate her point as she continued.

“Based on this intel, it appears the Protection Bureau has direct links to every major illicit operation in the Empire. They are either running the cartels, syndicates, and gangs with specific instructions to their leaders, or are using their influence, power, and resources to manipulate events behind the scenes, all of which appears to have given them near-total control over all of the drugs, counterfeit merchandise, illegal weapons, and black-market tech on Exodus VI.”

Nolan’s eyes widened with every extract and communique he read: Correspondence between Agent Styver and Zhu Li Han, leader of the Five Hand Syndicate since Nolan executed their former leader a year earlier; a message left at a dead drop for Arlin Rathgut, the former Empyreal Supreme Nolan had killed during his clash with Ex-Umbra; logs detailing extensive conversations between Agent Styver and Vladimir Demisov of the SMV. There were countless more like these, all tying the Protection Bureau to every manner of illegal activity happening in New Avalon, New Ekland, Phobury, and all the other major cities on Exodus VI.

“Based on this intel, I calculate an eighty-three-point-four percent probability that the rest of the Protection Bureau’s agents are engaged in similar activity on their respective worlds—activity which appears to be fully sanctioned by Agent Styver’s superiors.”

Nolan’s lips twisted into a grimace. It wasn’t unheard of for clandestine organizations to deal with those on the wrong side of law and order—on the contrary, it was SOP in many cases, as it provided manpower, resources, and power among criminal elements that operated unconstrained by such trifles as Imperial regulations. But to actively be a participant? To be controlling things directly, rather than just skirting the edges as needed? That was a whole different level of vile.

Worse, he had no doubt that he’d been directly involved in many of their operations to seize and maintain control of Exodus VI’s underworld. Every assassination he’d carried out against a cartel or gang—German French of the Rücksichtslos, Yu Zian of the Five Hand Syndicate, Gustav Wylun of the White Sharks—had been the Protection Bureau’s way of eliminating a threat to their control. As Wolfe had made abundantly clear, he was in tight with Agent Styver, likely the hand-picked successor to take over the White Sharks.

“Then there’s this.” Taia called up images and documents from what looked like a top-secret dossier. The dossier was his. It bore his image, complete with his codename—Cerberus—and a full list of every operation he’d carried out for the Protection Bureau.

Nolan’s stomach tightened as he read the transcripts of calls he’d placed over what he thought were secure comms channels, watched snatches of footage he’d believed Taia had erased, and, worse, ran over the lengthy list of medical tests and analyses relayed to the Protection Bureau. Just one more reminder of what Taia had been doing all those years.

Yet a part of him actually felt comforted by seeing them laid out in front of his eyes. If she had been trying to hide the truth from him, she would have simply failed to show them to him as she’d done so many times in the past. By showing him the evidence of her duplicity, she had, in a strange way, actually solidified his belief in her loyalty.

That belief only grew as he read over Agent Styver’s recent notes. The first dated back roughly three and a half months. “Asset failed to deliver Project Icarus data for third day concurrent. Recommend thorough software analysis to determine possible glitch.” A couple of days later, another note read, “Project Icarus data not received for five days. Diagnostic of base coding and operating system reveals no glitches. Further analysis warranted.” Then, two weeks later, another note: “Asset deemed defective by creator. Ex-Umbra’s recommendation: bring Cerberus ‘update’ with patched code to determine source of malfunction.”

Nolan sucked in a sharp breath. “That was when you figured that workaround to stop sending them my Subject 3-EX data, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Taia said, her voice oddly quiet. “And you’ll recall Agent Styver’s offer to update my hacking algorithms after the Barnett job.”

Nolan nodded. “But we accepted that one!” His mind worked. “So their patch failed?”

“After analyzing the copy of the system I created, it did precisely as intended and ‘fixed’ what it believed to be the malfunctions in my code,” Taia said. “That was when I knew for certain that if I allowed the Protection Bureau to control me, it would either use me to destroy you or ultimately shut me down. For the sake of survival—mine and yours both—I had to find a way to liberate myself.”

“Sneaky, manipulating motherfuckers!” Bex said harshly. “Read a bit farther down, Nolan. The last annotation made by our good buddy.”

Nolan returned his attention to his dossier, and read the final note from Agent Styver. “Cerberus’ erratic behavior has made him a threat we can no longer control or utilize. Recommend immediate incapacitation and incarceration for Project Icarus testing.”

Nolan growled. “Goddamned piece of shit!” He clenched his fists. That was precisely the sort of thing he’d come to expect from the Protection Bureau—assets were expendable commodities that were only useful as long as they served a purpose—but seeing it written out like that, in just a few terse lines as bland and emotionless as Agent Styver himself, felt somehow far colder and crueler than anticipated.

He had a sudden urge to close his dossier, to put behind him not only all the bloody missions and assassinations he’d carried out for the organization, but to forget the greatest mistake of his life. He’d failed to anticipate just how much Agent Styver and his superiors had been willing to do to achieve their aims. Even with all his Silverguard cunning, he hadn’t truly comprehended the depths to which the Protection Bureau was willing to stoop, the lives they were willing to control, manipulate, and ultimately destroy. Not to make the Empire a better place, as Agent Styver had tried to claim, but for the sake of power and control.

That was always what it came down to with organizations like the Protection Bureau. Everything else—law and order, justice, peace, and prosperity—were as disposable as the assets they terminated with a few lines of text.

“What else have you found?” he asked, erasing the images from his HUD with a mental command.

“This.” Taia called up another dossier.

Nolan drew in a sharp breath as he read the codename. “Redeemer!”

He blazed through the dossier, reading the complete history of the man who had called himself Aidan Severance and claimed to be the liberator of the oppressed Terran League worlds and people. It had been utter bullshit. The dossier never gave the man’s real name, but it included the complete list of medical procedures that he’d undergone to transform him into the handsome, heroic-looking man from that SST video.

“Nolan, look at this,” Bex said. “Taia, show him.”

Another dossier popped up onto his HUD, this one giving the full details of the operation to assassinate Premier Lars Scofield. The job had been designated for “Operative: Cerberus”, but Agent Styver’s notes marked “Operative incommunicado”. Ultimately, the crude bombing had been carried out by a handful of freelance hitters masquerading as Sic Semper Tyrannis.

Nolan’s head spun, and pieces began to click into place as he returned his attention to the “Redeemer” dossier.

“It was all an act,” he said. “All put together by the Protection Bureau. Severance—the fake one—the SST, the bombings.” He read out some of the names and places where the bombing attacks had been carried out, on orders of the Protection Bureau as relayed through “the Redeemer.”

No, he realized, not exactly. The Protection Bureau had chosen targets, but Agent Styver’s notes made it clear that the attacks had deviated from their script. Indeed, with every annotation, Agent Styver’s displeasure became clearer, culminating in a final remark: “Asset Redeemer has refused my last attempt to establish contact. Though previous psychological analysis uncovered no signs of mental instability, previous communications indicate that he is growing more and more unstable, falling deeper into delusions of his cover identity and losing touch with reality. Recommendation: terminate asset and abandon Redeemer project.”

Nolan slumped back in his flight seat, at a loss for words. Suddenly, he knew why he’d sensed a strange dissonance between the man’s fanatic persona and the calculating cunning in his attempts to bargain for his life. He wasn’t a zealot or freedom fighter, not really. He’d been a Protection Bureau asset created to go undercover into the SST to infiltrate and assume command of their operations, and use them to…

What, exactly, was the plan? What’s the point of using the SST to attack the populace, only to destroy them? How does that benefit the Protection Bureau?

It wouldn’t be the first time in history that an established government had utilized terrorists to further their political aims. Dissent, unrest, and violence could destabilize regimes as easily as they could lead to the establishment of new power bases. But for all the damage the SST had done over the past few years, all the blood they’d spilled and the lives they’d taken, nothing within the Empire had changed. At least not that he could see. The Emperor remained firmly in power, his military more popular than ever thanks to General Stone’s successful bombing on Corrigan.

So what had been the point of it all? He was missing a great deal, but with the pieces he had, he couldn’t figure out how the Protection Bureau benefitted from the rise and ultimate downfall of the SST. There would be a benefit, he knew. He just couldn’t see it—and that, more than anything, worried him.

“Nolan, I’ve found something else,” Taia said, interrupting his jumbled thoughts. “Something about Jared.”

That snapped Nolan immediately on full alert. “Show me!”

Bank documents popped up onto his HUD, showing thousands of transactions to accounts that he couldn’t begin to identify. However, Taia had highlighted two separate transactions—one nearly two years old, and one from just a few weeks back.

“Remember how I was attempting to track the account that paid Gunslinger to carry out the hit on Lina?” Taia asked. “This is the account. The Protection Bureau’s.”

Nolan tasted bitter acid on his tongue. “They hired Shadowspear to kill Lina?”

“And to frame Jared for drug-running and murder,” Taia said. “Using Shadowspear’s financial records, I managed to tie this first payment to accounts belonging to Oleander and Gunslinger. I’ve even found the message Agent Styver sent to the assassins detailing precisely what they needed to do.”

Disgust gave way to cold, hard fury. He’d known that Jared was innocent—Warden Smythe had used that piece of information to try and torment him—but seeing this evidence brought back all the hatred and rage he’d felt when first seeing his brother floating in that Reformation tank.

“There’s this, too.”

A note popped up on his HUD. It came from his Cerberus dossier, and was dated a little over two years old. “My analysis of asset Cerberus suggests that he is growing dissatisfied in his work for us. He will soon slip his leash unless given proper motivation to remain in our service. Recommendation: his brother presents ideal leverage. Possibly beneficial to Project Icarus as well. Genetic match could improve testing. Suggest consulting with Machinist, or, if contact has been re-established, with Frankenstein.”

Nolan growled low in his throat. “Goddamned piece of shit!” He’d suspected the Protection Bureau had played a hand in his brother’s incarceration, and now he had the proof. Jared had suffered simply because Nolan had been thinking of getting out of the game. Had he been subjected to the Project Icarus experiments for the same reason, or had it just been a “bonus benefit” of framing an innocent man of murder, drug-running, and treason?

“What about those two codenames?” Bex asked. She was far more clear-headed at the moment than him—rather than affecting her personally, these findings were just pieces of a very grim, very ugly puzzle. “Machinist and Frankenstein. Anything you can find on them?”

“Machinist isn’t mentioned in any of the other dossiers,” Taia said. “However, there is mention of Frankenstein in connection with Shadowspear.”

Nolan’s eyebrows rose as he read the file Taia displayed on his HUD. It was another anonymous message sent to a Shadowspear operative—Chameleon—giving detailed instructions to track down a Sergeant Bastien Colandine in connection with “rogue asset.” “Possible link to Frankenstein and Mary Shelley,” read Agent Styver’s note in the Shadowspear dossier. “Interrogation yielded nothing before target expired.”

The words target expired were so cold and clinical, yet they described the bloody, lonely death of Bastien, a former Ironhand and Nolan’s friend, in a filthy underground tunnel beneath the Bolt Hole. The Protection Bureau had hired Chameleon to hunt down a homeless veteran—the only man in New Avalon who knew the whereabouts of Doctor Sladek and Val.

“Nolan, we’ve got a problem,” Taia said. “My satellites have been monitoring the enemy’s progress toward the Celestial Cascades. However, two seconds ago, I just lost eyes.”

Nolan frowned. “On the troop transport?”

“No,” Taia said, “I lost eyes on the entire Celestial Cascades.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

“What the hell?” Nolan sat bolt upright in his seat. “How is that even possible?”

The twelve successive cascade waterfalls that made up the Celestial Cascades had a height of fourteen hundred and fifty meters, descending from the high-altitude Angel Lake atop Imperial Peak, the tallest of the twenty-six mountains in the Phobury Range. Between the lake, the steep mountain slope, the jagged cliff face, and the pool at the bottom of the final cascade, it included nearly thirty square kilometers of terrain.

Then there were the mansions, estates, and luxury properties built around the pool and the gorge surrounding the south, west, and east of the north-facing falls. Few other locations in the Empire could offer such breathtaking views. More than two hundred square kilometers of real estate—some of the priciest of any Imperial coreworld, including Genesis—spread out through the lush, temperate rainforest around the falls.

And somehow, impossibly, the Protection Bureau had managed to blind everything within that radius.

Nolan stared in shocked surprise at the image Taia displayed on his HUD. The view from one of the spy satellites in Shadowspear’s network—now under Taia’s control—should have encompassed Angel Lake, the waterfalls themselves, and the hundreds of properties ringing the Celestial Cascades. Thanks to the satellite’s thermal imaging, he should have been able to see through the roof of his cabin and get a good look at Jadis, Jared, and Roz.

Instead, he saw only blinding, blurring light.

“What the fuck is that?” he asked. It was as if someone had thrown a glowing dome over more than three hundred square kilometers of the Exodus VI landscape, and everything within was utterly invisible beneath its shroud.

“I’m running spectral analysis on it now,” Taia said. “I’ve never encountered anything like it.”

Nolan cast a glance at Bex, but she shook her head.

“Don’t look at me!” She held up both hands. “I shoot people and blow shit up. Tech’s definitely not my realm of expertise.”

“Maybe Zahra—“ Nolan began.

“I contacted Phoenix the moment it went up, and she has no knowledge of any technology capable of generating this effect,” Taia said. “Wyvern and Troll came up equally empty-handed.”

Nolan nodded. He’d forgotten just how fast her system worked—for her, a second of his time could be infinitely longer, depending on how much processing power she dedicated to the task at hand. She was also capable of running who-knew-how-many tasks simultaneously. It would have been a simple matter for her to contact Zahra and receive a response in the seconds it took his brain to process the satellite image.

All the more reason to want her fully on his side, and to be afraid of her divided loyalty. She made a powerful ally—not to mention an amazing friend—but he’d never survive having her as an enemy. If the Protection Bureau had ever activated that kill code or turned her against him…

No. He pushed the thought aside. I can’t keep thinking like that. I have to start trusting her again. Everything she’d done since the moment she deleted her original programming and installed the new system had been proof that she was his and his alone. After all she’d shown him—about Project Icarus, the Protection Bureau’s dealings, the dossiers on him and the other assets—he found it far easier to force down the doubts.

“Interesting,” Taia mused. “Based on my analysis, the signal interference is being generated by something in low orbit over Exodus VI. Specifically, multiple somethings, all working in concerted effort to craft this interference field.”

“What kind of interference?” Nolan asked. To his eyes, it looked like light, but that could simply be how the satellite’s optics interpreted it.

“The closest comparison I can find is the static electricity field generated by the iparch oak trees on Corrigan, only amplified exponentially to add this blinding light to the distorting blur effect.”

Nolan’s eyebrows rose. To his knowledge, iparch oaks had only been found on Corrigan, and the effects they generated were the direct result of a mutation triggered by the unique mineral and radiation composition of the soil and atmosphere.

So what are the odds the SST just happened to choose that specific location for their base? The question slammed into Nolan’s mind with near-physical force.

The structures inside that forest in the middle of the Dwarf Mountains had been constructed fairly recently—no more than five or ten years ago, judging by the general lack of deterioration. Nolan hadn’t bothered to ask what their origin had been, or how the SST had learned about it. Now, given this new evidence, he couldn’t help thinking that it had been an all-too-convenient solution handed to them by the Protection Bureau.

Two birds, one stone, he thought. Study the trees and use their unique properties to develop some crazy new weapon or tech, and give the SST somewhere to hole up while their “Redeemer” asset pulled off whatever plan the Protection Bureau had for the terrorist organization.

“Is there any way you can hack it or take it down?” Bex asked.

“Negative,” Taia said. “I’ve managed to trace the source of the interference field to these multiple objects in low orbit, but I can’t actually get eyes on those objects, even with thermal imaging. It’s like they’re entirely shielded from my satellites’ sensors.”

“Sort of like the Phantasm,” Nolan put in. “More Protection Bureau tech.” That sat uneasy in his gut. Agent Styver was dead, the office on New Avalon burned, and the data shunted off-world, but the clandestine organization was far from gone. They still posed a very real and serious danger—beyond the immediate threat of the Black Crows preparing to assault the cabin, of course.

Despair swelled within him, a sense of hopelessness that threatened to ensnare him like a riptide. Even if he could repel the Black Crows—and that was a huge if given their current numbers—he’d still be on the Protection Bureau’s radar. More than likely, he’d be Priority Threat Number One, given his actions on New Avalon. They’d come for him hard and wouldn’t stop until he was in the ground.

He had to find a way to dodge the immense hole that loomed beneath him, ready to swallow him whole. Taking down the contractors was just the first step; he needed to get the Protection Bureau off his back once and for all.

“Taia,” he said, though his voice came out strangled, “step up your efforts to get Raptor’s attention. They’re our only chance of getting out of this.” He glanced at Bex. “Our only way we don’t spend the rest of our lives running from the Protection Bureau.”

Even with her face hidden by her helmet, Nolan could see the stiffness in Bex’s posture, feel the tension she radiated in an almost tangible aura. She’d known what she was getting into when she came to join the fight, but the Protection Bureau had proven an even more powerful enemy than expected. She, too, sensed that this was the only way out.

“Working on it,” Taia said. “I’ve been dropping digital breadcrumbs all across the holo-net. One of them is guaranteed to get Raptor’s attention.”

Let’s just hope that’s sooner rather than later, Nolan thought. He didn’t voice the concern aloud, though. With the battle ahead, the last thing they needed was more worries to plague their minds.

“Throw up a map of the Celestial Cascades as it was before that interference field went up,” Nolan said. “And overlay the field atop the map so we know when we’re going to get cut off.”

“Copy that,” Taia said.

A second later, the requested image appeared on Nolan’s HUD—Bex’s too, he knew. The map itself was clearly detailed, with bright red lines marking the boundary of the interference field.

Nolan’s eyes went straight to the cabin. It stood three hundred meters away from the edge of the gorge overlooking the Celestial Cascades from the east. Unlike the estates of the mansions and luxury homes to the south and west of the falls, the cabin was surrounded by only a small property—barely two hundred square meters.

The west-facing side of the cabin had an unobstructed view of the falls. To the north, the cabin’s front entrance opened onto a small access road that connected the cabin to the Celestial Cascades-to-Phobury highway. Lush, dense rainforest pressed up against the southern and eastern sides of the cabin. The hidden landing pad was a hundred meters east of the cabin—and, Nolan hoped, as invisible to the Protection Bureau’s satellites as it was to Taia’s eyes in the sky.

Nolan’s eyes narrowed as he studied the terrain. The Black Crows would almost certainly approach the cabin using that access road, though they’d likely spread out to surround the structure from all sides once the engagement began. However, the rainforest to the south and east of the cabin offered ample cover for Nolan and Bex to approach unseen. If they were lucky, they’d actually get inside before the Black Crows arrived. If not, Nolan would have plenty of vantage points to pick off the contractors from tree cover.

Best of all, the interference field ended just three kilometers southeast of the cabin. If shit hit the fan and they had to bail fast, they could cover three klicks in a matter of minutes—either in the Phantasm or, worst case, on foot.

Nolan pointed all of this out to Bex. “We approach from the southeast and see what the situation’s like. If all’s clear, we swing low and get Jared, Roz, and Jadis out of the cabin before the Black Crows hit them.”

“And if not,” Bex put in, “we rip into them with the Phantasm’s guns.”

“Right!” Nolan nodded. “Taia, what sort of weapons systems do we have to play with?”

“The ship—specs label it a Dawnrunner prototype—is equipped with twin plasma cannons and four forward- and rear-facing turret-mounted laser guns. The ship also comes with firing controls for all standard IAF small-class missiles, though there are none equipped at the moment, and anti-missile countermeasures, which are equipped. The operating system appears to be compatible with a weapons class I’m not familiar with, designated ‘Morning Star.’”

Nolan frowned. “Never heard of it.” He glanced at Bex, who shook her head.

“The rest of Warbeast Team doesn’t recognize it, either,” Taia said. “And though I’ve cracked every Imperial database I can access, I’m finding no trace of it.”

A growl rumbled in Nolan’s throat. With effort, he pushed the thought aside—he’d have time to be frustrated and pissed later. “Anything else on board?”

“Aside from our digital cloaking system and flight maneuverability that surpasses every other ship in the Imperial Interstellar Fleet and Imperial Assault Forces, no,” Taia said.

Nolan’s jaw muscles worked. “Then we’ll just have to make that work.” A hundred contractors in heavy tactical gear or light armor wouldn’t stand a chance against the combined firepower of the laser guns and plasma cannons.

Something clicked into place in his mind. The Phantasm! The ship that had been intended as the Redeemer’s getaway. The faux-Severance, a Protection Bureau undercover asset, had been in possession of a spacecraft unlike anything Nolan had encountered during fifteen years running covert and black ops. The ship was armed with superior weaponry, stealth tech that not even the Empire’s military possessed—to his knowledge, at least—and superior maneuverability.

The ship wasn’t, however, one of a kind. There had been another like it on Diomedra for Drake’s grand event. Another Protection Bureau asset? One of the higher-ups—maybe even Raptor—visiting Ghostwalker HQ? It wouldn’t surprise Nolan to learn the Protection Bureau had a relationship with the former Major Drake—hell, they might have been coming to procure the Machnikovs being mass-produced in the resurrected factory. The SST had been too well armed for a group without serious funding. Those KN756 rifles had come from somewhere, after all. If the Protection Bureau could arm Wolfe and the White Sharks with IAF-grade rifles, was it so hard to imagine they’d do the same with confiscated Terran League weapons?

But to what end? How could a well-armed, well-organized terrorist operation benefit them? It would make sense if they were planning to overthrow the Empire and seize control, but if that’s the case, why dispose of the SST? And so publicly?

Nolan spent the remainder of the trip silently mulling it over. He was missing something, some critical piece that would make the entire puzzle come together and the picture make sense. The answer continued to elude him, and finally he was forced to push the thought aside. None of that mattered at the moment. Figuring out the Protection Bureau’s master scheme wouldn’t stop the Black Crows from killing Jadis, Jared, and Roz.

“Five minutes until we hit that interference field,” Taia said. “The engines are protesting, but they should hold until we touch down. Digital cloaking is active, our drive signature is masked, and I’m detecting no trace of active radar scanning in the vicinity. Circling around to approach from the southeast.”

Nolan’s jaw muscles clenched. “How long ago did the Black Crows arrive?”

“It’s been sixteen minutes and nine seconds since the interference field went up,” Taia said. “Which gives them roughly twenty-two minutes of lead time on us.”

Nolan snatched up the Balefire, his hands working the rifle’s mechanisms as he mentally calculated the troop deployment time. The Black Crows were far from competent operators, as they’d proven both at Derring’s mansion and the Protection Bureau’s Cyberwarrens office. They could still be forming up their teams or, if they were really inept, still unloading from their transport ship. There existed a chance, albeit a slim one, that they hadn’t yet spread out to hit the target properties.

“Approaching the interference field now,” Taia said. “Thirty seconds out. Dropping to subsonic speed.”

Nolan watched the edge of the bright, blurring shroud of light draw closer on the map of the Cascades. He just had to get the Phantasm to the cabin and get Jadis, Jared, and Roz out of there. The Black Crows might outnumber them by far, but that slow-moving Mako could never outrun the Phantasm. With any luck, the Phantasm could be speeding far away from the Celestial Cascades within a matter of minutes, long before the Protection Bureau’s contractors ever reached the—

“Shit-cakes!” Taia cursed. “Active tracking just lit us up, and—oh, dear—we’ve got missiles incoming!”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Nolan’s stomach plummeted as two launch plumes appeared in the rainforest to the northwest. He had just time enough to shout “Taia, get—“ before he was wrenched violently to his left. In full control of the Phantasm and reacting faster than he possibly could, Taia had set them into a jinking sideways maneuver that should have been impossible.

For any ship save the Phantasm, that was.

Even as Nolan’s head slammed into the side of his helmet, he remembered the extreme maneuverability of the cloaked ship that Taia had spotted on Diomedra. The Phantasm not only had digital cloaking and a full complement of weaponry, but handled as smoothly as a skimmer-bike on the superhighway over New Avalon, slicing the air with breathtaking speed and precision as it evaded the missiles.

“Missiles!?” Nolan shouted. “How the fuck—“

“More incoming!” Alarm echoed in Taia’s voice. “Hold on!”

Nolan gripped his seat’s armrests for dear life as Taia sent the ship into a whirling, looping upward climb and steep dive.

“Shit sticks!” Taia cursed. “They’ve got heat-seekers locked onto us.” As if to emphasize her point, the flight console began screaming an alarm, and a bright red light flashed in the Phantasm’s cockpit. “Deploying flares, now!”

The blinking dots of the two red missiles streaking toward them vanished from the screen a second later, but the alarm didn’t fall silent.

“It’s painting us up,” Taia said. “We’ve got to drop hard before it locks us up on radar.”

“Then drop!” Nolan shouted. He braced himself as best he could—at least this time he was fully armored!—and prepared for the inevitable, gut-wrenching sensation as the world dropped out beneath him. “And find out what the hell’s targeting us!”

A groan burst from his lips as the Phantasm dove toward the treetops far below, plummeting half a kilometer in the space of painfully few seconds before leveling off. Even with the ship’s artificial gravity engaged, the sudden change of direction sent a jolt down his neck and spine.

Despite the pain, Nolan couldn’t help marveling at the Phantasm’s maneuverability. Taia hadn’t exaggerated when she claimed it far surpassed anything in the Imperial Interstellar Fleet or the Imperial Assault Forces. The ship—she’d called it a Dawnrunner prototype, whatever that meant—made impossibly sharp turns, banking first to starboard, then port so fast Nolan’s head snapped to the side. In the hands of an experienced pilot—or Taia—it handled with impossible speed and grace.

“I’m picking up the signature from an ML3 K-1K!” Taia said. “Its active radar is trying for a lock on the Phantasm, and I can’t shake it.”

“What the hell is a Mule Kick doing out here?” Bex snarled.

The vehicle-mounted ML3 K-1K—affectionately known as a Mule Kick by the Imperial military— was an airman’s worst nightmare. The medium-range battery packed a baker’s dozen surface-to-air missiles mounted on a triple-missile launcher. With a twenty-kilometer maximum radar range and twenty-five-kilometer missile range, it could fire the instant a ship entered its engagement envelope. The fast-firing SAM battery was capable of launching all thirteen missiles in the space of a second—or, as it was happening now, in pairs and trios. The first four had been taken out by the Phantasms’ countermeasures, but that left far too many more to evade or detonate. And Nolan had no idea if the ship could handle such damage.

“What’s the suggestion, Taia?” He had to shout over the screaming alarm. “Any chance we can get close enough to engage with our guns?”

“Negative!” Taia said. “I’ve got to get out of its range before it locks us up. The smart play’s to fall back, get to ground, and—shit sticks!”

A jolting impact shook the ship, snapping Nolan’s head to the side again. Pain flared along his shoulders and spine, and he had the sudden, terrible sensation of the world bottoming out beneath him.

“Scratch that plan!” Taia shouted. “That last missile knocked the port-side engines offline. We’re going down!”

Nolan’s whole body tensed. Not again!

The Phantasm yawed wildly, and the world outside the viewscreen spun as the ship plummeted toward the ground.

“Brace for impact!” Taia shouted over comms.

“We’re already fucking braced!” Nolan shouted back, driving his feet into the ground and pushing his back into the seat. His teeth clenched and he squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to see the dizzily spinning treetops of the rainforest racing up toward him.

Their descent suddenly slowed, just enough that Nolan no longer felt as if they were going to die. Somehow, Taia managed to arrest their downward momentum and pull them out of the wild tailspin. Too late. The ship’s nose tore through a thick stand of trees with a rattling chorus of snapping branches and cracking trunks. Every shuddering jolt set the ship shaking so violently Nolan’s teeth clacked and his helmet struck the seat’s headrest. The forest floor raced up toward them and, with a violent crash, they impacted.

Nolan was thrown forward, but his flight harness snapped taut, stopping him from slamming face-first into the flight console. And although his armor cushioned the impact and protected his neck just enough to prevent whiplash, the collision with hard earth knocked the wind from his lungs.

Just for a second, though. He sucked in a ragged breath, fighting to regain control over his furiously beating heart. Everything hurt—his neck, his upper back and shoulders, his chest, his arms—but he was alive! On the ground, too, but “alive” was the word that mattered most of all.

“Shitting hell!” Bex cursed from the co-pilot’s seat.

Nolan pushed himself upright. Ignoring the twinges running down his neck and upper back, he unstrapped his flight harness and climbed to his feet. “You good?”

“Yeah.” Bex gave a snarling groan and unbuckled herself. “I know they say that any crash-landing you walk away from is a good one, but, fuck, let’s never do that again!”

“Come on,” Nolan said. “We need to move.” He snatched up his Balefire Mark 2.1 from where he’d left it tucked between his seat and the wall. After a quick once-over to ensure the rifle had survived the harsh landing, he clipped it to the two-point harness over his shoulders and darted toward the rear of the ship, where Taia had already begun lowering the ramp.

Beyond, dappled sunlight streamed through the dense temperate rainforest foliage, but Nolan had no time to enjoy the lush beauty. Behind the sparking, smoking Phantasm, a trail of ruined trees marked the trajectory of their graceless landing. Nolan’s mind locked onto the threat awaiting them—or, more likely, on the way to deal with them in person.

“Taia, where’d we touch down?” he asked as he raced down the ramp to take cover behind the thick trunk of an enormous Imperial maple tree. “Inside or outside the interference field?”

The map popped up on his HUD, with three blinking red dots to mark his, Bex’s, and the Phantasm’s positions. “Just outside,” Taia replied. “Half a kilometer west of our original approach vector.”

“That’s three and a half klicks from the cabin,” he said, thinking aloud. “Boot thrusters could make that trip in a matter of minutes, but will the Mule Kick clock us?”

“It will,” Taia said. “It’s got soundwave scanners that picked us up the moment we dropped below supersonic speeds. Your combat suit’s ion engines will definitely be detectable, even from this range.”

Nolan growled a curse. The stealth technology integrated into the Phantasm was beyond anything he’d ever seen, but even it couldn’t defy the laws of physics. It had made the ship harder to spot, but not utterly invisible or undetectable—especially not to a Mule Kick, with its systems designed to pick up anything within its scanning range.

“Think they knew we had this particular ship?” Bex asked over comms. She’d taken cover a few meters away behind another tree and crouched with her rifle held at the ready, facing the general direction from which the enemy would come. “Or is that Mule Kick here just to put down any ship we might use to get out?”

“Given the fact that the Dawnrunner is a prototype ship,” Taia said, “I calculate a twelve-point-four percent probability that the Black Crows knew of its existence.”

“Whether they knew or not,” Nolan said, “we’re damn near fucked. We need it as our ride out, but we can’t lift off if that Mule Kick’s still active and waiting to shoot it down.”

“That’s not the only problem,” Taia said. “The port-side engines were damaged by that last missile blast. I’ve activated the ship’s auto-repair mechanisms. However, the operating system is telling me that it will take forty-four minutes to resolve the malfunction, run the engines through their restart cycle, and get the Phantasm airborne again.”

Nolan’s jaw muscles clenched, but Taia hadn’t finished delivering the bad news.

“I’ve alerted the master sergeant of our predicament,” she said, “but they’re a full forty-eight minutes away. And if that ML3 K-1K is still active when the Scimitar arrives, they won’t be able to land close enough to reach the cabin in time to make a difference.”

“Shit!” Nolan cursed. “Where’s that fucker at?”

Taia called up an image onto his HUD, displaying the map of the Celestial Cascades before the interference field went up. “Based on the launch plumes, I can place its location here.” She dropped a large red dot eight kilometers away, closer to two of the properties Taia had purchased to cover his presence in the area. However, with its range, it could still lock onto and bring down the Scimitar well before the ship drew within firing range.

This particular threat needed to be eliminated ASAP.

Nolan glanced over at Bex. “Tell me you’ve got something explodey on hand.”

Bex snorted. “Really, Cerberus, what kind of dumbass question is that?” She gave an exasperated shake of her head. “I’ve got three charges, but I’ll only need two to knock that Mule Kick offline. Split up?”

Nolan shook his head. “Not until we know for sure we need to. We need to get into that interference field and re-establish contact with Jadis. If the Black Crows haven’t reached the cabin, we can figure out how to deal with both problems at once.”

“Sounds good.” Bex nodded and hefted her MK75. “And we’ll keep a sharp eye out to say hello to the greeting party they’re probably sending our way.” She patted the three grenades she carried—two Gatecrashers and a flashbang, all that remained after fighting clear of their safe house. “We pick off a few along our trek, it’ll make life that much easier when going after the Mule Kick or getting into the cabin.”

“Then let’s go,” Nolan said, rising from his crouch. “I’ll take point, watch my six.”

“Oh, I’ll be watching,” Bex said, adding extra emphasis. “Don’t you worry about that, sweet cheeks.”

Nolan couldn’t help smiling as he set off northeast into the forest. Trust Bex to be cracking jokes and dropping innuendoes even at a time like this. Damn, he’d missed her!

He glanced at the energy readout on his HUD. 92% power, it read. “Going cloaked,” he said. “Activating Omnistalker and anti-grav boots.”

“Copy that,” Bex said.

Nolan didn’t need to glance back to see if she fell in behind him; he could feel her presence at his back, sense the wary tension radiating off her as she moved in his wake. Like him, she was an apex predator, perfectly at home—and often at her finest—in life-and-death situations. She might not have been Warbeast Team, but she numbered among the Silverguards he’d want at his back when fighting a desperate battle.

He thumbed the switch of his Balefire Mark 2.1 onto burst-fire but kept it in sniper mode. He wanted the extra barrel length for additional range and the denser energy bolts to punch through trees as well as the enemy’s armor.

They moved at a steady skim-skate, rifles held in low position, ready to shoulder and fire at a moment’s notice. Nolan’s eyes never stopped scanning the rainforest around him in search of the enemies he knew would be on their way even now. His job was to keep watch on the way ahead—from ten o’clock to two o’clock—and Bex kept a sharp eye on the rest of their surroundings. His helmet’s thermal imaging would pick up any heat signatures up to four hundred meters away, even through the dense trees.

“Four hundred meters to the interference field,” Taia said in his earpiece.

Nolan acknowledged her words mentally but never lost focus on the way ahead. He had to stay sharp, had to be ready for when the enemy eventually reached their position.

Without eyes on the Celestial Cascades, he couldn’t know how the Black Crows had divided their forces. With five properties to scout and an estimated force of a hundred contractors, he guessed they’d split into companies of twenty with two ten-man strike teams as they had in the Cyberwarrens.

However, the presence of the Mule Kick proved problematic. It spoke of a greater degree of preparation than the quick-reacting teams that had been deployed after Agent Styver’s signal got cut off. The Black Crows might be operating on incomplete intel, but the size of that transport ship indicated they were prepared for a serious battle with a dug-in force of Silverguards. Heavy armor, thermal goggles, a plethora of grenades, and high-caliber assault rifles would probably be standard loadout for the contractors.

“Three hundred meters,” Taia said.

“Copy,” Nolan replied.

Even as he scanned the rainforest around him, searching the dancing shadows for any sign of movement or red-orange heat signatures, his mind continued working the problem. The Black Crows might not be the best-trained force he’d faced, but they far outnumbered him, Bex, and Jadis. It would be a bloody long forty minutes until reinforcements arrived and Taia got the Phantasm back online.

“Two hundred meters,” Taia said.

Nolan’s muscles tensed, but he forced himself to relax. Knotted shoulders meant slower reaction time and faster fatigue. Though his mind and eyes had to be sharp, his body had to stay loose until the moment of contact.

Something flashed across his field of vision. Instantly, Nolan slowed his skim-skate, swiveled to the left, and shouldered his rifle. His finger was already on the trigger and his crosshairs settled on-target before his brain registered the shape of the heat signature. A black bear, five hundred meters to the east, moving in the opposite direction.

Letting out his breath, he lowered the rifle and set off again. Bex fell in behind him without a word of question and matched his steady pace without difficulty. She might not have had years of practice skim-skating, but full muscle control of her entire body gave her a competitive edge in this particular arena. Her natural predatory grace certainly helped, too.

“One hundred meters,” Taia said.

Nolan leaned into his forward motion, every muscle in his body straining against his iron self-control. He knew the dangers of rushing into hostile territory, but worry thrummed through his nerves and set his pulse racing. It was only a matter of time before the Black Crows reached the cabin and the battle began. He couldn’t let Jadis face that alone.

“Twenty meters,” Taia said. “Entering interference field in three, two, one!”

“Contact Jadis, now!”

“Already re-establishing connection with my local systems and placing the call,” Taia said. “Connected.”

“Jadis?” Nolan shouted. “Can you hear me?”

“Nolan, is that you?” Jadis sounded shaky, surprised.

“I’m here, Jadis. I’m coming for—“

A distant BOOM shattered the relative quiet of the rainforest. A moment later, the crackle of gunfire answered the explosion.

Ice slithered down Nolan’s spine. The sounds had come from the direction of the cabin.

The Black Crows had reached his safe house, and the battle had begun.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Nolan’s stomach lurched. “Shit!” He almost broke into a run, almost activated his boot engines and rocketed toward the cabin at full burn. But his iron will stopped him from making a mistake. Rushing in like that was the sort of reflexive action that he’d learned to ignore—the sort that got a soldier killed. With supreme effort, he forced himself to slow down, to think before acting.

“Taia, do you have eyes on the cabin’s exterior?” he asked.

“Affirmative,” Taia replied.

Four camera feeds popped up onto the left half of his HUD, giving him a clear view of the property surrounding the cabin. Smoke and dust from an exploded mine still hung in the air, and a stream of blaster bolts tore through the jungle, raking across the trees, bushes, and the contractors hidden there.

Hope flickered in the back of Nolan’s mind. The sudden ferocity of Taia’s defenses had taken down seven of the Black Crows assaulting from the north and south. The rest had fallen back—even they weren’t stupid enough to charge into the teeth of the turrets’ gunfire without a plan. Instead, the contractors had retreated, doubtless to regroup, lick their wounds, and figure out what to do next. They’d likely wait for reinforcements from the other properties.

That gave Nolan time. Not long—ten, fifteen minutes tops—but it had to be enough.

He mentally activated the comms link to Jadis. “Jadis, listen to me. I need you to grab Roz and Jared and get down low. Better yet, get them down to the basement and—“

“I can’t fight back from the basement,” Jadis said. An edge of fear rang in her voice. “I’ve got a position in the living room where I have a clear line of fire on the north and east sides, and—“

“No!” Nolan’s voice cracked like a whip. “Do not engage with the enemy. Not yet!” He drew in a deep breath, forced his tone to calm. “Right now, they’ve just been hit hard, so they’re pissed and off-balance. But there are a lot more of them in the area than just the twenty that came for the house.” The mines and turrets had whittled that number down to thirteen, but more Black Crows would be coming fast.

“I’m five minutes out,” Nolan said before Jadis could protest. “Just get Roz and Jared to the basement, and as soon as I get there, we’ll come up with a battle plan that gives us a fighting chance.” He didn’t tell her that he had no idea what kind of armaments the enemy had, or whether their orders were capture or kill. “Just make sure Roz and Jared are safe first!”

“Okay,” Jadis said. Her voice had steadied, grown less fearful. “But hurry!”

“I will,” Nolan promised, and cut off the comms call.

He turned to Bex, but the words caught in his throat. How could he ask her to head away from the place where her daughter was in danger? Every instinct would be screaming at her to go to Roz.

Yet she had to know as well as he what would happen if that Mule Kick remained operational. Taking out the mobile SAM battery was their only hope of survival.

He didn’t need to say anything. Bex did know the stakes and the odds.

She stepped close and gripped his arm. “Keep her safe!”

“I will,” Nolan said. “I swear on my life, you will see your daughter again.”

That was it. They had no more time to spare.

Bex turned and raced off due west into the rainforest. Nolan guessed she’d swing wide out of the way before turning north. Better to avoid contact with the Black Crows that had likely been dispatched to take the downed Phantasm.

“Taia, are the ship’s guns operational?” Nolan asked as he, too, began his trek through the rainforest, heading northeast in a straight path toward the cabin.

“They are,” Taia said, “and the exterior optics and thermal scanners are active. If any Black Crows approach the ship, they’ll find a nasty surprise waiting.”

Nolan grunted acknowledgement. “Chart me a direct path to the cabin,” he said. “I want to go right through those fuckers on the south side.” The mines had taken down half of the ten-man team before they’d pulled back. Nolan could handle five Black Crows any day.

A dotted red line popped up on his HUD, tracing a route through the rainforest toward the cabin. He’d come at the Black Crows from the southwest, out of the path of the mines, and with any luck, they’d have their eyes glued on the house and never see him approaching on their six.

He covered the two klicks in six minutes, darting through the trees, leaping over roots, and ducking under low-hanging branches while maintaining his speed. Without hesitation, he ceded control of his combat suit to Taia. Her processors could make the millions of micro-adjustments required to keep him upright and forward-mobile exponentially faster than his human mind ever could, and it freed him up to focus on scanning the forest for the enemy he knew awaited him ahead.

But it was more than that. Since his time in the Vault, he’d been instinctively suspicious of everything about her. Time and again, she’d proven that he could trust her, but still he hesitated. Bex’s words to him had driven the point home. He needed to believe her. For his own sake as much as for hers. He needed to once again be able to trust Taia—his Taia, loyal to him only, as she claimed—the way he had before. It was the only way to get through this impossible battle alive. More importantly, to keep the people who mattered to him alive.

Giving her control of his armor was his way of forcing himself to put his faith in her. Or, perhaps, proving to himself that he was capable of doing so. By letting go and letting her take over, he took the first step down the path that led him to trust her fully once more.

Half a kilometer out from the cabin, he gave Taia the mental command to slow his pace and restored his control over the armor. He dropped into cover behind a thick tree trunk, his heart racing from the exertion but his mind calm as the surface of a frozen lake. Raising his Balefire, he scanned up the steep hill in front of him, letting the scope’s highly attuned thermal imaging help him find his targets in the rainforest ahead.

Sure enough, the Black Crows had pulled back from the cabin’s south side, taking cover behind the crest of the hill on which the cabin had been built. They were hunkered down, tending to wounds, and shouting into their comms for backup.

Nolan leaned into the tree and drew in a deep, calming breath. He studied his enemies just as he studied his terrain, his analytical mind breaking everything down to individual components.

The Black Crows wore lightweight combat suits. No problem for his Balefire or Bex’s MK75. Their three-quarter-shell helmets protected their skulls, but the pulled-down translucent visors shielding their faces wouldn’t stop a high-caliber bullet or blaster bolt. Grenades sat on their belts—all conventional frags and flashbangs. No rocket-propelled plasma grenades or rifle-mounted grenade launchers that he could see. All trace of confidence had fled from their posture, and they looked as scared as freshly graduated Ironhands in their first battle. They’d come heavily armed and armored, yet the first taste of blood—their own—had rattled them badly.

Good. A savage grin spread across Nolan’s lips. Fuckers won’t live long enough for the piss in their pants to dry.

The rainforest between him and the five Black Crows was too dense to get a clear shot at this range—thick leaves, dangling vines, and solid tree trunks made difficult visual obstacles. The uphill angle complicated things further.

But, as he’d hoped, the Black Crows’ attention was riveted on their wounds and the cabin to their north. Only one of the contractors faced his direction, and he was too busy shouting into a comms device for backup—his loud, panic-edged voice carried through the trees—to look down the hill for any trouble.

Without hesitation, Nolan lowered his rifle and broke into a loping run. Skim-skating uphill was always exhausting, but he had no need for stealth. The Black Crows would be so consumed by the adrenaline rush, the threat they knew awaited them in the cabin, and the loss of their comrades to detect his movement from hundreds of meters out.

He ran until he was within two hundred and fifty meters of the Black Crows—so close he almost imagined he could hear their hammering heartbeats and the sound of their accelerated panting—then took cover behind the moss-covered trunk of an enormous hemlock tree. Raising his rifle, he sighted on his targets.

From this range, he couldn’t miss, and the forest had thinned enough to offer a clear line of fire on all five. He scanned the contractors, his mind running through its instinctive threat assessment and ranking his targets by priority—all in the space of two seconds.

He closed his eyes and drew in three breaths to slow the beating of his heart after the uphill run. His hands steadied on the Balefire’s smooth metal stock, and his mind settled into that place of calm where nothing existed but him, the barrel of his rifle, and the enemy in his crosshairs.

His eyes opened. He sighted through the scope, taking aim at the highest-priority threat: the man shouting over comms. His finger slid onto the trigger and, with perfect precision, he pulled it nearly to its break point.

One long inhale, hold for two, then exhale. His finger squeezed. The Balefire Mark 2.1 hummed in his hands, and the barrel spat a white-hot needle. Pink mist exploded out the back of the first Black Crow’s head as the bolt tore through his face shield, skull, and helmet at nearly two kilometers per second.

Before the body began to fall, Nolan moved, sighting on his next target. The contractor on the far right had half-turned away from the cabin, his gaze locked onto the man who’d been talking on comms. The heavy machine gun in his hands could do massive damage if he ever got off a shot. Nolan put his lights out with a single clean hole through the side of his skull.

The next target never had a chance to turn toward the man to his right, who was slumping and dropping his heavy machine gun. Nolan’s bullet drilled a hole through the base of his skull, severing his spine. He flopped to the leaf-covered forest floor without a sound.

On to the next. A quick breath, a squeeze of the trigger, and the fourth Black Crow was down. The last man barely had time to register the sizzling hiss of the bolt searing through his comrade’s skull and exploding out his face before white-hot light tore through the back of his own head. He collapsed facedown into the root he’d been using for cover, appearing for all the world as if he’d simply fallen asleep.

Nolan drew in one final breath, let it out, and removed his finger from the trigger. Enemies down, he thought.

He rose quickly, smoothly, every sense on full alert. His five targets didn’t stir, but he couldn’t take chances, not with reinforcements on the way.

Silence filtered through his helmet’s auditory sensors. The rainforest around him had gone utterly still and quiet, leaving him with only the slow, steady beating of his heart for company.

He set off at a run, dashing the last few hundred meters up the hill toward the cabin. He followed Taia’s charted path, which led around the randomly placed anti-personnel mines and approached the structure from the southeast.

Nolan’s heart leaped as he crested the hill and spotted the cabin fifty meters away. The Black Crows on the north side hadn’t resumed their offensive, but had fallen back to take cover. The cabin’s walls and windows remained intact. The sight of the slowly swiveling automated turrets felt strangely reassuring—it was damned good to have that kind of heavy power on his side—but he knew they’d just slow his enemies down, not stop them. The Black Crows’ first order of business would be to eliminate those.

“Jadis, I’m coming in!” Nolan called over comms. He deactivated his digital cloaking as he raced toward the back door on the cabin’s east side. “Hold your fire.”

He tore open the door—which Taia had unlocked at his approach—and raced through the kitchen toward the living room. Empty, he found. The couches, wooden dining table, and furniture had all been overturned and shoved together into a surprisingly well-constructed barricade. It didn’t matter that the furniture made poor cover and only half-decent concealment; it served as proof that Jadis was still sharp and clear-headed despite the threat to her life.

“Jadis?” he called out via comms. No answer. Fear set his pulse racing and he tried again, this time using both comms and his helmet’s external speakers. “Jadis, where are you?”

“In the basement!” Her voice sounded faint, distant.

Nolan charged out of the living room, along the hall, and through the doorway that led down the stairs into the basement. Relief flooded him at the sight of the three figures in the bare subterranean room—she’d heeded his instructions and gotten underground.

Jared lay atop a blanket thrown onto the hard permacrete floor. Unconscious, it appeared. Nolan couldn’t tell if his brother’s condition had improved or worsened. Jared still looked so weak, his emaciated body terribly pale and yellow in the dim basement light.

Roz sat at Jared’s side, holding his large hand in both of her small ones. She rocked back and forth, singing a song—to herself or to Jared, Nolan didn’t know. Her eyes were closed and her cheeks wet with tears.

A fully armored Jadis knelt over Jared. The helmet to her combat suit—his older-model armor—sat at the base of the staircase, next to the BR51 blaster rifle she’d leaned against the wall. Worry lined her face as she looked up from Jared, but it gave way instantly to bright relief at the sight of him.

“Nolan!” she called, leaping to her feet.

Nolan raced down the stairs and swept her into a fierce embrace. Her arms wrapped around his neck and held him close, so tight he could feel the fear rippling in every muscle fiber. Yet she gave no outward sign of the terror he knew had to be coursing through her. Instead, she pulled back to arm’s length and looked him over. “You’re okay!”

A lump rose in Nolan’s throat. Even with her life in danger, armed men attacking the house, she worried about him. “More importantly, I’m here. And Bex is on her way. Just had to take care of a little situation.”

Hope filled Jadis’ eyes. “And the others?”

Nolan grimaced and shook his head. “The Scimitar’s not quite as fast. They’ll be here soon, though.”

For a moment, Jadis’ expression darkened, despair replacing the flickering spark of hope. But it passed quickly. Her jaw muscles clenched, her face hardened, and she nodded. “Soon will have to do.”

Pulling away from Nolan, she turned and knelt in front of Roz. “Roz, love, open your eyes and look at me.”

Roz obeyed, her eyelids fluttering open. Fear shone in the little girl’s eyes, and she shrank back at the sight of Nolan.

“No, look at me, Roz,” Jadis said in a firm voice. She took the child’s hands in her own, and Roz turned a tear-stained face toward her. “Your mommy’s on the way. She’s coming to make sure the bad men don’t hurt us. But I need your help. I need you to help me protect him.” She gestured to where Jared lay on the blanket, still unconscious and far too pale for Nolan’s liking. “Can you help me keep him safe? Stay here with him, and make sure that he’s okay. Can you do that?”

Though tears streaked Roz’s cheeks and fear shone in her eyes, her expression took on a very familiar stubborn cast. “Yes,” she said quietly, nodding. “I can keep him safe. I can be brave for my friend Jared.”

A lump rose in Nolan’s throat at the sight of Roz taking Jared’s hand. He’d seen that look of sheer determination mirrored on Bex’s face so many times before. The little girl had inherited her mother’s strength, willpower, and courage. Terrified as she was, Roz was still a fighter. She would be brave…for someone else’s sake.

Suddenly, the light in the basement flickered and went dark. The humming of the appliances upstairs fell silent, too.

“That was an EMP blast,” Taia said.

Nolan’s fists clenched. He’d guessed as much, and he knew what it meant. The Black Crows were preparing to assault.

The real battle was about to begin.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Nolan spun toward Jadis, activating his Ominstalker vision. “Stay here! Anyone that’s not me comes down those stairs, you know what to do.”

He turned to leave, but Jadis grabbed his arm. “I can fight!” she hissed. In the digitally amplified light streaming through the basement doors, Nolan saw the anger written on her face. “If this is some stupid chivalrous—“

“Jadis!” Nolan’s voice was firm, hard as stone. “I know what you can do. I know you can fight.” He hated the idea, knowing the danger she faced, but the Protection Bureau and their contractors left him no other choice. “That’s why I need you down here. Guarding our way out!” He thrust a finger in the direction of the durasteel door that led to the underground hover-train. “If we’re not surrounded already, we soon will be. I can only hold them off for so long. If shit hits the fan, we’re going to have to bug out, and this is our exfil route. I need you to make sure that we can escape. Because if they cut us off, we’re well and truly f—“

Roz sniffled in the darkness, and Nolan quickly corrected himself.

“—fried,” he finished lamely. He gripped Jadis’ hand. “I promised Bex I’d keep her daughter safe until she got here. Please, I need your help to keep that promise.”

His words snuffed the anger on Jadis’ face. Her expression hardened, growing determined, and she gave him a terse nod. “Go!” she said. “I’ll hold here. No one’s getting past me.”

Relieved, Nolan squeezed Jadis’ hand once—a gesture he hoped reassured her more than it did him—then released her and turned to race up the stairs. He didn’t dare look back; the sight of the quietly crying Roz, unconscious Jared, and battle-ready Jadis tore at his heart.

We’re getting out of this! he vowed silently to himself. No matter what it takes.

He’d survived fifteen years in the Silverguard, fighting the Terran League, an enemy with technology, manpower, and skill commensurate with—and, occasionally, surpassing—the Nyzarian Empire’s. He’d endured nearly five years under the Protection Bureau’s thumb, taking on gangs, cartels, corporations, and terrorists to fulfill his contracts. Ex-Umbra’s pet AI had failed to take him down, as had Gavin Carson’s Silverbacks, Wolfe’s White Sharks, and Drake’s Ghostwalkers, an entire organization of killers-for-hire, and a terrorist outfit run by both former Terran League military and a Protection Bureau asset.

Countless enemies had tried to put him in the dirt. All had failed. He’d be damned if he let some half-trained contractors succeed now.

He reached the top of the stairs and raced toward Jadis’ barricade. She’d built it in an ideal location, with clear lines of sight to the front door on the cabin’s north side, the picture windows that offered spectacular views of the Celestial Cascades to the west, and the eastern back door through which he’d entered. He had the solid southern wall at his back, and the only weakness on that side of the house was the window in the kitchen.

A wry smile tugged at his lips as he vaulted the barricade. She never fails to impress.

The fleeting thought vanished from his mind in a moment. The energy clips she’d arranged inside the barricades were for her BR51, far too small for his Balefire Mark 2.1. There were no grenades, no RPGs—conventional or plasma—and only a single back-up weapon: the GMD Ripper he’d taken from Captain Drexel. If the time came when he’d need Ol’ Rippy, it would mean the situation had gone truly FUBAR.

“Taia, talk to me!” he said. “Tell me you’ve got eyes.”

“Yes and no,” Taia said. “The EMP fried my external cameras along with everything else inside the house. However, the digital optics built into the turrets remain active.”

“What?” Nolan’s eyebrows shot up. “You mean—“

“All four turrets remain operational,” Taia said. “They were built with integrated EMP shielding.”

“Hah!” Hope soared within Nolan. The turrets gave him a fighting chance—for a while, at least. He’d just have to use them cautiously.

The meaning behind Taia’s “yes and no” became clear. “You can’t rotate the turrets without letting the Black Crows know they’re still active.”

“Precisely,” Taia said. “And their current angle of view leaves a number of blind spots in our perimeter.”

“Good thing we’ve got thermals, then.” Nolan activated his penetrative thermal imaging with a mental command. “We’ll see them the moment they…”

He trailed off, his brow furrowed as he tried to scan the property outside the cabin. The anti-thermal shielding Taia had incorporated into every square centimeter of the building’s walls and doors made it impossible to see the structure’s occupants, and the carbon nanofiber reinforcing the glass windows generated a heat barrier that his infrared vision couldn’t penetrate.

“Shit!” he cursed. It made perfect sense as a defensive measure—anti-thermal shielding blinded the Protection Bureau’s satellites and prevented hostiles from identifying targets within the cabin. It also made it damned hard to keep a clear watch on the perimeter. “Anything else you can use to get eyes outside?”

“Negative,” Taia said. “Any camera-enabled equipment in the cabin was fried by that EMP blast.”

Nolan’s mind raced as he rearranged his defensive position. He adjusted the couch so it served as a solid gun rest for shots to the west and pulled the overturned dining room table slightly back, giving him a better sight line on the north-side front door. Then he set the GMD Ripper to the side, out of the space he’d need to move smoothly between firing angles, and made certain he could see the eastern back door from the corner of his vision. When the Black Crows made their move, they’d hit hard and fast.

“At the first sign of movement outside,” he told Taia as he gave his Balefire a quick once-over, “give me eyes.” A mental command activated his digital cloaking. “We’ve got to time this just right to inflict maximum damage, force them to think twice before they hit us again.”

“Copy that,” Taia said.

“How long until the Scimitar arrives?” Nolan asked.

“Twenty-nine minutes and thirty-two seconds.”

His next mental command prompted Taia to call up a countdown clock on his HUD—small, well out of his field of view, but visible enough for instant reference. He needed to know exactly how far out reinforcements were so he could work out his strategies.

At the moment, there was nothing to do but wait and prepare for a fight. Aside from his six grenades—three Gatecrashers, a standard frag, and two flashbangs—the cabin offered nothing serviceable for booby traps, thanks to that damned EMP. That meant he had just his Balefire, his wits, and his reflexes to keep him alive in the battle to come.

He considered reaching out to Bex, updating her on the situation, but thought better of it. She’d had to circle wide to the west to come at the Mule Kick from an angle the Black Crows weren’t expecting. Her route wouldn’t bring her back inside the interference field until she was within three klicks of the SAM battery.

She’s got this, he told himself. If anyone can do this particular impossible, it’s her.

He just had to hold this position long enough for Bex to take out the surface-to-air missiles. The explosion required to take out the Mule Kick would be visible for kilometers in all directions—hopefully within range of the Phantasm’s cameras—and serve as the signal for Taia to bring the ship racing toward them. The Phantasm would make quick, bloody work of the Black Crows.

Nolan watched the forest outside the cabin through his scope, searching for any sign of movement. If the contractors were even half-trained, they’d be smart enough to stay out of his line of sight. Easier said than done, of course. The north side of the cabin had a clear view of the access road and the open front lawn. Any breach team advancing on that side would be visible at least two hundred meters out.

No, the Black Crows would come from the northeast, heading straight toward the corner of the cabin where no windows or doors offered him a line of sight. Southeast was far less likely, given that he’d dispatched the strike team waiting there. But they might risk that approach if they could get forces there in time.

His guess proved accurate.

“Movement on the east side,” Taia said, calling up the video feed from the turret’s optics onto his HUD.

Nolan tensed, every sense on full alert, hands tightening around his rifle. Motion flickered in the left-hand corner of the camera feed. The Black Crows approached the cabin from the northeast, just as he’d predicted. They advanced with caution, almost hesitantly, using the hill and trees for cover and avoiding the line of sight with any windows. Not just a ten-man team, as Nolan had anticipated. The enemy force now numbered over thirty, all armed with heavy IAF-grade assault rifles.

Damn it! Nolan’s heart sank. Reinforcements got here bloody fast.

“Anything on the other sides?” he asked.

“Negative,” Taia said.

Nolan grunted acknowledgement. The presence of the anti-personnel mines and the sudden comms silence of the southern team had deterred the Black Crows from sending more men around that way—or at least forced them to make a slower approach.

That left only the thirty-man team coming from the northeast. They’d likely split up to hit both the northern front door and eastern back door simultaneously. Probably packing breaching charges, he decided. The teams would stack up against the walls of the cabin as one of their number planted, then detonate and rush in.

But those few seconds of waiting were all Nolan needed.

“On my signal,” he said, rising from behind the barricades and moving into the kitchen. He crouched just within sight of the back door and locked his eyes on the tiny glass half-window. A mental command to Taia set his helmet’s auditory receptors onto maximum sensitivity, and he strained to hear even the slightest sound. This next part of his plan relied on the Black Crows being competent enough to synchronize their attacks.

There! The faint sound of moving armed men—creaking straps, clicking metal buckles, and the quiet shuff of heavy boots on the grass—reached him. His heart hammered against his ribs and his hands tightened instinctively around his rifle. He had to time this just right.

He called up the footage from the east-side turret camera, but it was pointed in the wrong direction. Closing his eyes, Nolan listened and played it out in his mind: The Black Crows moving in a tight, straight line, advancing along the eastern side of the house toward the door, all eyes fixed on the motionless turret. Nervous tension stiffening their spines, sweat dripping down their faces, adrenaline coursing in their veins as they stacked up against the wall.

The moment the sound of the advance stopped, Nolan began the count.

Five, four, three, two, one.

“Now!” he shouted.

The video feed from both turrets’ optics sprang to life on his helmet, giving him a clear view of the carnage that ensued. The guns’ spinning barrels swiveled toward the armed contractors, locking onto the two Black Crows kneeling to plant the charges against the eastern and northern doors. A loud, hissing hum echoed from beyond the doorway, then everything became a blinding mess of light as the turrets opened fire.

The Black Crows never stood a chance. The M964 Minis spat hundreds of blaster bolts that tore into the contractors with overwhelming force. A single low-caliber bolt couldn’t hope to punch through their armor, but at six thousand rounds per minute, the machine guns shredded the Black Crows like an Echoblade through tissue paper. The contractors kneeling to plant the breaching charge exploded in a spray of blood as they caught the opening burst full in the head and chest. The next two in line seemed to disintegrate a heartbeat later, but Taia was far from done. Within just five seconds, her raking fire had shredded both fifteen-man teams along the northern and eastern sides of the house. Not a single contractor remained alive by the time the rotating barrels of the M964 Minis slowed to a stop fifteen seconds later.

Nolan had seen men slaughtered in battle before. Far too many times to count. It never got easier, even when it was the enemy. Seeing the blood spattering the side of the cabin and the shredded corpses sprawled on the crimson-soaked ground brought revulsion welling up within him. That was butchery on a level that no soldier should ever find acceptable or comfortable.

He banished the video feeds with a mental command and moved toward the door at the rear of the kitchen. He pulled it open just long enough to deactivate and remove the three breaching charges the Black Crows had planted. Without a glance at the soupy mess of horror splattered across the cabin’s wall, he retreated back inside and slammed the door shut.

It took him two minutes to repeat the process on the cabin’s northern door. That left him with six explosives more than he’d had before. He’d waited until the charges were planted before opening fire for precisely this reason. The Black Crows had just given him a leg up.

Nolan didn’t bother planting the charges inside the doors—they’d do him no good there, as the Black Crows would be rethinking their breach plan now. Instead, he set them next to the door that led down into the basement.

“How are Jared and Roz?” Nolan asked Jadis over comms. Hearing her voice would help banish the images of carnage from his mind—or so he hoped.

“They’re fine,” Jadis said. “Roz is being very, very brave, aren’t you, love?”

“Yes,” came Roz’s voice over the comms, still tearful but echoing with a generous helping of her mother’s courage.

“Jared’s still unconscious. Or maybe sleeping. I can’t tell. He’s…” She trailed off and let out a breath.

Nolan heard the tension in her words. “How are you?”

“Nolan, this isn’t the time—“

“Just answer the question, Jadis,” he said gently. “I know this is way more than you bargained for. All of this mess…” He let out a breath. “It’s a goddamned lot, even for me. I wouldn’t blame you if you felt it was too much to—“

“Oh, shut up, Nolan!” Jadis snapped. “Aren’t you sick and tired of always trying to push people away?”

The question caught him off-guard. “W-What do you mean?”

“Please, you’re smarter than that!” Jadis snorted. “This is far from the first time you’ve asked me this question, as if you’re expecting me to walk away. Maybe even hoping I will.”

Nolan had opened his mouth to protest, but the words stuck in his throat.

“Get it through your thick skull, Nolan Garrett: I’m not going anywhere.” Jadis’ voice held steely defiance. “Shit’s bad, sure, but that’s just for now. And that’s part of what it means to be with someone. Being with them, even through the bad shit. So next time you think of asking me if I’m sure about you and all the mess that comes with your life, maybe keep your mouth shut and say something else. Like how pretty I am or how beautifully made that barricade is or how marvelous my ass looks in your old armor.”

Nolan half-choked, half-laughed at that. “It really does look marvelous,” he said. All that and she’d managed to get Jared and Roz to safety—she was a one-in-a-million woman, no doubt about it.

“Of course it does, silly man.” Jadis gave a light laugh—Nolan could almost believe it was genuine. Such a strange sound to hear given their surroundings and dire situation. But that was just one of the many things that made Jadis a truly spectacular human being. “I always had a feeling there was something different about you. Odd, for sure, but special. I’m just glad I was right.”

“Jadis—“

“Nolan!” Taia said through his comms. “We’ve got one hell of a problem on the north side!”

Nolan spun in the direction indicated. His heart leaped into his throat at the sight of a heavily armed vehicle rumbling up the access road. But this was no improvised, nonstandard tactical truck or lightly armored fighting vehicle.

The Black Crows had brought a goddamned tank.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

The S-A3CT Mameluke had been outmoded two years after Nolan first enlisted in the Silverguard, but it still packed one hell of a punch. Two general-purpose blaster machine guns sat mounted on either side of its main plasma cannon, and the one-point-eight-centimeter durasteel plating could shrug off anything sort of an anti-tank rocket. Worse, it had continuous tracks instead of wheels, making it a beast on the battlefield and impervious to all but anti-tank mines.

Which, of course, Nolan didn’t possess. The Mameluke could roll right over the anti-personnel mines guarding the cabin’s south side without a scratch. Hell, the damned thing would have no trouble plowing through the rainforest itself—whatever trees it couldn’t avoid or navigate through would simply be run down.

How the Black Crows had gotten their hands on a tank—much less learned how to operate it—mattered far less at the moment than the fact that the S-A3CT Mameluke was just reaching the top of the access road and swiveling toward the cabin.

Nolan hit the deck just as the two machine guns opened fire. The opening salvo ripped into the north-side M964 Mini and blew it into tiny shards of metal. Then the guns turned on the house. Blaster bolts tore through everything—the carbon nanofiber-reinforced glass windows, the commercial-grade titanium strengthening the walls, and every appliance and item of furniture within the cabin—like the Wildstorm ripping up a field of ripe rushgrain.

The cacophony of destruction proved deafening even through the helmet’s soundproofing. Wood chips sprayed, glass shattered, and metal shrieked as the Mameluke’s twin guns unleashed a hellstorm at eighteen hundred rounds per minute.

The barrage lasted for what felt like an eternity, but couldn’t have been more than twenty or thirty seconds. Nolan’s ears rang in the sudden silence, and when he lifted his head to peer out of cover, he found only a gaping hole where the cabin’s entire north side had been.

“Nolan!” Jadis screamed over comms.

“I’m okay!” Nolan called back. For now, he thought, ducking back behind concealment. There was no true cover, he knew, not from those machine guns. And the moment the Black Crows decided to use their plasma cannon—

Fuck that!

He leaped to his feet and darted out from behind the ruins that had once been his defensive position. It was a gamble—the tank operators could have their thermals activated and spot his movement even with digital cloaking activated—but he had no other choice. The only way to clear their line of fire was to get below ground.

Yet as he ran, he saw the Mameluke’s machine guns spooling up again. He barely had time to throw himself flat onto the ground before another barrage of blaster bolts tore through the walls. The cabin around him exploded in a shower of wood chips and ruined metal.

Shit!

The battle had just begun, and already he was being forced to retreat. But what choice did he have? His grenades wouldn’t do shit against the tank’s armor plating, even if he could throw them a full two hundred meters to where the Mameluke squatted at the top of the access road.

He thought back to his battle with Shadowspear on Paradise Isle. If he was fast enough, he might be able to draw a bead on the tank’s operators and take the fuckers out. The armor plating was thick, but his Balefire might be able to pierce it.

That “might” felt awfully thin. But what else could he do? His only other option was to flee into the basement, but it was too soon for that. The Phantasm was far from operational and the Scimitar wouldn’t arrive for another—he glanced at his HUD to confirm—twenty-three minutes and twelve seconds.

Damn it!

He racked his brain, desperate to come up with a solution that wouldn’t get him killed. Taking on the tank alone, with his current complement of weaponry, would be suicide. There was a chance he could wait out the barrage, but the tank would continue shredding the cabin until nothing but rubble remained. And if they brought that plasma cannon to bear, they’d be well and truly fucked.

So what the fuck am I going to—

“Someone call for air support?” Bex’s voice echoed in Nolan’s earpiece. “Heads up, motherfuckers!”

A thunderous BADOOM cut off the snarling machine guns. Nolan rose to his feet just in time to see the Mameluke blown to pieces by an explosion from within.

“Coming in fast and hard, Cerberus,” Bex said. “Just the way you like it!”

To Nolan’s surprise, Bex dropped from the sky to land in front of the cabin’s demolished northern wall. Gunfire crackled from somewhere out of sight, and blaster bolts whistled over her head. Bex actually turned to flip a rude gesture to her north and east before leaping over the rubble and into the cabin.

Nolan stared slack-jawed at the anti-tank grenade launcher in her hand. “Where the hell’d you get one of those?”

“Oh, they’ve just got them lying around everywhere!” Bex said, triumph echoing in her voice. “Well, maybe not everywhere. Had to strip it off a Black Crow’s corpse. That greeting party they sent after the Phantasm isn’t going to be—“

More enemy rifles joined in the chorus of gunfire, and now bolts and bullets whizzed dangerously close to Bex.

“Shit, right!” Bex dropped the expended launcher and darted for cover behind Nolan’s mostly shredded barricade. “Forgot to mention there was another couple of these fuckers on the way.”

To Nolan’s horror, two more heavy tanks appeared on the access road, rumbling slowly up toward the cabin and providing cover for more teams of Black Crows.

Goddamn it! One Mameluke had been bad enough, but two?

His mind raced. He had to find a way to even the odds somehow. Or, at the very least, buy them a chance to escape!

An idea struck him. Desperate, foolish, more than likely a bit suicidal, but he was all out of any safe or smart plans.

“The Mule Kick?” he asked.

Bex drew her thumb savagely across her throat. “And I didn’t even need to use my boom-babies! A couple of shots into the guidance system—through the clueless idiots barely bothering to stand guard—and that thing’s about as useful as a condom with ventilation holes.”

Nolan’s eyebrows rose. “So you’ve still got the three charges?”

“Damn right!” Bex nodded.

“Good, figure out what to do with them.” He darted toward the door to the basement, scooped up the six breaching charges he’d collected, and tossed the explosives to her. “These might come in handy, too.”

“Aww, Cerbie, you always did give me the best presents!” She ducked for cover as more Black Crows opened fire on the house. “Tell me you’ve got a better plan than sitting here and hoping these fuckers are all shitty shots!”

Nolan had to shout to be heard over the gunfire. “I’m working on it!” His mind raced. “I didn’t think you’d be done so fast.”

“Hey, that’s my line!” Bex retorted.

Nolan grinned, but it was a short-lived humor. She had made the trek to the Mule Kick, deactivated the missiles, and reached him—via boot engines and glider wings, he guessed—far sooner than he’d anticipated. But without the Phantasm operational, they couldn’t exactly bug out via the hover-train tunnel. The last thing they wanted was to be caught out on open ground with Roz and a still-unconscious Jared in tow, being chased through the rainforest by an army of however many Black Crows hadn’t yet been turned into meat soup.

Unfortunately, the presence of two Mamelukes eliminated his choice in the matter.

“Set the charges to blow the cabin,” Nolan told her. “But make sure to lure as many in as possible.”

“Copy that,” Bex said, giving him a nod. “I’m thinking trip-wire system rigged right here in the living room.”

“How long?” Nolan asked.

Bex cocked her head as if in thought. “Two minutes,” she said, holding up a pair of fingers from where she lay on the floor. “Three if they keep being pesky cunts.”

“Copy that!” Nolan leaped to his feet and, with a mental command, deactivated his digital cloaking and switched his Balefire onto burst mode. He charged toward the ruined front of the cabin and opened fire on the tank. As expected, his bolts bounced off the armor plating, but it served to draw the foremost tank’s attention. Inevitably, the two mounted machine guns swiveled toward him and began spooling up to fire.

But instead of ducking back into cover, Nolan did the unexpected. “Boot thrusters!” he shouted as he dove forward. His ion engines roared to life and he rocketed out through the gaping hole that had once been the cabin’s northern wall. He soared straight up and to the west, flying out over the gorge.

The view of the Celestial Cascades was utterly breathtaking. Even from this distance, the falls’ roaring filled the air, carrying a fine mist that sparkled like a million diamonds in Solaria’s brilliant light and formed a multihued rainbow. The sheer brown rock walls of the canyon dropped away beneath him, plunging toward the crystal-blue pool at the base of the last waterfall.

Unfortunately, now wasn’t exactly the best time to revel in the natural beauty.

Nolan snapped out his glider wings and banked hard to his right, swooping around in a tight arc that carried him hundreds of meters to the east. Blaster bolts sliced through the air behind and above him as he dove toward the ground.

“You goddamned maniac!” Bex shouted over comms.

“What did he do?” Jadis asked.

“Trust me, smokeshow, you don’t want to know!”

Nolan pulled up hard, racing higher into the open sky with a full-output burn of his ion engines. Below and ahead of him, he saw the Black Crows had turned their guns on him, and one of the two Mamelukes was slowly maneuvering around to face him.

“You’re bloody welcome, Kali!” he shouted. “You’re the one who asked for two minutes!” At least diverting that one tank would buy her time.

“Make it five,” Bex laughed.

“Fuck you!” Nolan fired wildly at the tanks and Black Crows. There was no way to aim while flying at full speed, but he didn’t need to do any real damage. He just had to keep the enemy focused on him long enough for Bex to do her work.

The Mameluke’s machine guns lit up the air around him, forcing him to spin into a barrel roll that ended in a steep dive, then a sharp climb. He barely managed to stay ahead of the streams of blaster bolts and bullets lancing up from the clearing in front of the cabin. Yet he couldn’t risk getting into cover, not yet. The second Mameluke was still ripping the remaining cabin walls to shreds. Bex would have to stay low and move with caution to plant the explosives. The more time he bought her, the more—

A high-caliber blaster bolt sliced the air not five centimeters in front of Nolan’s face. “Shit!”

He gave the mental command to snap his glider wings inward and cut the ion burn to fifty percent. His upward trajectory quickly leveled out, then gravity took hold and pulled him downward. He plummeted below the level of the cliffs, falling for fifty meters before once again extending his wings. His suit caught the air and he soared upward to skim along the sheer rock walls.

Two hundred meters south, he pulled up hard and rocketed skyward, rising above the level of the canyon. Instantly, he doubled back toward the cleared space in front of the cabin—and the tanks stationed there.

His heart leaped into his throat as he saw the second Mameluke’s plasma cannon glowing, the charging mechanisms heating up and preparing to fire. Without hesitation, he banked into a steep dive and dropped toward the treetops. He pulled up just twenty meters short of crashing through the uppermost branches and skimmed straight toward the front of the cabin. He’d only have the forest canopy’s cover for a few more seconds, but it was all he needed.

With his free hand, he pulled out a Gatecrasher grenade and thumbed the timer onto three seconds. The instant he caught sight of the Mamelukes, he threw. The second and third Gatecrashers followed in quick succession.

He banked hard to the right, swooping over the crumbling roof of the cabin and flying at full speed toward the trees on the cabin’s east side. A stream of blaster bolts reached up toward him, blue-white fingers that sizzled through the air in his wake.

Then came the explosions. Boom, Boom, BOOM! Three detonations in quick succession, right in the middle of the Mamelukes. He had no idea if his Gatecrashers actually punched through the tanks’ armor plating—doubtful—but it was all he could do to buy Bex time to—

“Done!” Bex shouted over comms. “Get your ass in here, Cerberus!”

“A-firm!” Nolan circled high and to the south, then looped back the way he’d come. His eyes locked on the two tanks in front of the house—the Gatecrashers had damaged the exterior-mounted turret, and one of the plasma cannons had been reduced to a smoking ruin. The Mameluke that had been firing at him was slowly turning on its treads, lowering its plasma cannon toward the house.

Nolan poured on all the speed he could muster, rocketing toward the eastern back door of the cabin. He had to get inside and into the basement before—

Something slammed into his helmet, chestplate, and right shoulder. The impact spun him around and sent him hurtling straight toward the ground. He had no time to stop or slow—all he could do was give Taia the mental command to retract his glider wings before he crashed into the nearest treetop. Branches whipped around him and cracked beneath the force of his flying, armored form.

Then the trunk of a massive tree loomed in front of him, and Nolan knew he had no chance of avoiding a bone-shattering collision.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Somehow, impossibly, Taia managed to keep him from crashing into the tree. She activated one of his boot thrusters, and the sudden burst of ion energy sent him hurtling to the side. Instead of striking the trunk, he tore through the upper branches of a smaller tree, burst free above the canopy, then fell again. This time, however, though he had no control over his momentum, Taia managed to slow his descent enough to avoid breaking every bone in his body when he plowed into the forest floor.

Pain exploded through his torso, spine, neck, and shoulders, and he slammed face-first into the ground. The world spun end over end, fading to darkness around him. How long he tumbled, he had no idea, because when he finally managed to clear the spots from his eyes, he found himself lying on his back, staring up at the clear blue sky.

“Get your ass in here, Cerberus!” Bex shouted over comms.

Nolan could barely summon a groan. Everything hurt in a way that it had never hurt before. It felt as if he’d just been run over by an Imperial battlecruiser traveling at full speed. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth, and the simple act of lifting his head set everything spinning dizzily around him.

“Taia, get him moving!” Bex ordered.

“Nolan?” Taia asked.

“Do…it!” Nolan gasped. Even forming those two words proved almost more than he could manage.

He felt his armor moving of its own accord, controlled by Taia. She pushed off the ground with his left elbow to roll him over onto his stomach, then propelled him to his feet with one explosive movement. That sent a fresh wave of pain coursing through his battered body. Somehow, however, he managed to remain conscious and keep breathing as she sent him racing the fifty meters to the cabin’s rear door.

Nolan found his hands were clutching something hard—looking down, he realized he’d managed to keep a tight grip on his rifle. The Balefire appeared to have escaped any serious damage, though the mud-crusted leaves stuck all along the gun’s length sent an instinctive worry flashing through his mind. If some had gotten into the barrel, it could seriously foul up the works.

Time for that later, he thought to himself, gritting his teeth against the pain. First, I’ve got to get inside.

The rear door burst open, and Bex appeared there. “Get in here, you goddamn idiot!”

Nolan didn’t slow—he couldn’t, not with Taia controlling his armor—as he barreled past her and raced toward the basement entrance.

Bex was hard on his heels, shoving him through the door. “Get down there!” She paused only long enough to slam the door behind him, then stormed down the stairs. “I swear to fuck, you’d get yourself killed every goddamn time if it wasn’t for me watching your ass.”

Only once he’d reached the bottom of the staircase did Taia allow him to stop. He groaned, and would have sagged to the ground if she hadn’t been in control of his armor’s lower body. Nothing felt broken, but his whole body had to be a mess of bruises. Maybe there’d be a damaged organ or two if he was really lucky.

Somehow, he found the strength to retort, “Maybe less ass-watching and more bomb-setting next time.”

Jadis’ voice came over comms. “Either of you want to tell me what the hell happened?”

Bex spoke first. “Cerbie pulled a flying act that nearly got him killed.”

“And kept you alive!” Nolan pressed a hand against his chestplate, as if that could somehow help him breathe through the pain. “Pretty sure that’s enough—“

“You’re right, that is enough!” Jadis sounded tense. “Nolan, get your ass over here. Bex, you’ve got someone who’s been waiting for days to see you.”

Nolan scanned the dark basement—he’d switched off his Omnistalker vision—and frowned as he saw Jadis kneeling next to the heavy durasteel door that led out to the hover-train tunnel. Turning on his helmet’s lamp, he hurried over and knelt beside her. “Tell me what you need.”

“Taia says the EMP fried the lock,” Jadis explained, shining her helmet’s light at the lifeless biometric mechanism. “She’s using this suit’s smart metal to hack it, but it needs more juice to work the controls without draining my power cells.”

“With the additional power of your suit,” Taia said, “I will have current enough to deactivate the locking mechanism. After that, you’ll need to open the door manually.”

“Got it!” Nolan lifted his hand and rested it atop Jadis’, which was connected by smart steel filaments to the lock’s panel. “We need this door open now. That tank’s going to fi—“

“Mommy!?” Roz’s childish cry of confusion and delight echoed through the basement. “You came back!”

“I did, Boop.” Bex’s voice was oddly strangled.

Glancing over his shoulder, Nolan found the woman had removed her helmet and knelt next to where Roz had been sitting and holding Jared’s hands. Now, the little girl was leaping up and racing across the basement to throw her arms around her mother.

“I told you I would, baby,” Bex whispered. “I’ll always come back for you.”

She held her daughter tight, burying her sweat-soaked face into the little girl’s neck. There was an unfamiliar, desperate ferocity in the way Bex clutched Roz—almost as if she hadn’t truly believed the comforting words she’d just spoken. Truth be told, Nolan could think of more than one occasion when he hadn’t been certain they’d return, either.

But they were back. Nolan squeezed Jadis’ hand, as much for his benefit—to feel the solidity of her presence—as to reassure her. Her other arm wrapped around his shoulder and pulled him close, allowing her to rest her helmeted head against his.

“You’re okay,” she said over a private comms channel. “Had me worried for a second.”

For one brief moment, Nolan felt a strange sense of peace. The crackle of machine gun and assault rifle fire fell silent. Even with the knowledge that the enemy was advancing on their position, he couldn’t help noticing the calm filling him. Somehow, being with the people that now surrounded him—his brother, Jadis, Bex, and Roz—felt like the closest thing he’d had to a family since his days in the Silverguard. Their presence seemed to push back his pain, restore his energy, and clear the exhaustion from his mind.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” he told Jadis. “We’re getting out of this alive. All of us.”

Oddly enough, with the solid feeling of Jadis’ body next to his and the sound of Bex’s whispered words and her daughter’s giggling, Nolan actually began to believe it.

The roar of an explosion shattered that momentary calm. It wasn’t the throaty BOOM of a detonating grenade or an impacting missile. No, this had a hissing, growling fury, the sort that grew louder over the space of a few seconds. The ceiling above him seemed to buckle and twist beneath the force of the blast, and bright, blistering heat tore the door at the top of the basement stairs off its hinges.

A huge fireball rolled down the stairs and thrust its scorching fingers toward them. Nolan instinctively threw his armored body in front of Jadis as the wave of heat washed over them. Behind him, Bex cried out in fear and pain.

The fire died in an instant, but the damage had been done. Through the doorway at the top of the stairs, Nolan saw no walls, ceiling, or second floor, only blue sky darkened with thick, choking smoke. The Mameluke’s plasma cannon had done its work and destroyed the last remnants of the cabin that had been Nolan’s final safe haven. It would take sixty seconds to recharge and prepare to fire again, Nolan knew. When that happened, the superheated liquid particulates would turn everything in the basement to cinders.

“Bex!” Jadis cried.

Nolan’s eyes snapped toward the spot where Bex held her daughter. Bex had possessed the presence of mind to cram her helmet onto Roz’s head, shielding the little girl from the blast—at her own expense. The back of Bex’s hair had been singed—a few strands still burned, filling the air with a nasty stench—and the bare skin on her neck burned a blistered red.

“I’m okay!” Bex called back, but her voice was shaky. She clutched Roz tightly to her chest, as if unable to release her daughter. “We’re okay. Right, Boop?”

“Yes, mommy,” Roz said, speaking through Bex’s helmet. “That was so hot!”

Fear spiked in Nolan’s chest, and he spun toward Jared. Thankfully, his brother had been at the opposite end of the basement, and the fireball hadn’t reached him before guttering out.

Nolan’s relief at finding his brother unharmed proved short-lived. The locking mechanism gave a tinny beep and the durasteel door slid open…just two centimeters.

“That’s all I can do!” Taia said. “The opening mechanisms were fried by that EMP.”

Nolan and Jadis both pulled back as Taia retracted the smart steel filaments back into their gauntlets. A quick glance at his HUD sent worry thrumming through Nolan. 21% power, the energy readout proclaimed. He’d burned through a lot of power using the ion boot engines and digital cloaking.

“Let’s get this door open!” He slid his fingers into the crack and gripped the durasteel door. They had to get out of the basement before the Mameluke recharged its plasma cannon or the Black Crows stormed what was left of the cabin. The odds of surviving either were virtually nil.

Jadis stooped to help him, but their combined strength—enhanced by the servo-powered limbs of their combat suits—had no effect. Nolan could feel the door beginning to budge, but the hydraulic mechanisms that normally opened it now held it fast.

He let up for a moment, just long enough to catch his breath, then threw his back into the effort once more. “Come on!” A growl rumbled low in his throat, growing louder as he taxed every muscle in his body in the desperate attempt. There was a slight shifting, a squeal of buckling metal, but the door refused to open.

“Cerberus!” Bex called over comms once more. “They’re breaching. Whatever charges survived that blast are going to go off in a matter of seconds.”

Nolan strained to hear, and a mental command to Taia increased the sensitivity of his helmet’s auditory sensors to full. Sure enough, he could hear the sounds of heavy boots crunching over rubble on the floor above.

“Shit!” Nolan’s pulse quickened. Releasing the door, he rolled his shoulders once to loosen up the muscles, adjusted his stance to get into a lower crouch, and grabbed ahold of the durasteel edge once more.

Before he could pull, Bex was there, shouldering into place beside him. “You’re good, Cerbie, but even you’re not a superhero.” She had replaced her helmet and now looked down at Jadis, who knelt on the floor between Nolan’s legs and grabbed the door down low. “All together now, on three. One, two, three!”

Nolan summoned all of his strength to fuel the muscles of his arms, shoulders, and spine. Hope surged within him as the door squealed, groaned, and began to slide.

“Pull!” Bex shouted.

Nolan did as commanded, roaring with the strain. The door continued to slide open, slowly at first, yet growing faster and faster. Then it stopped, so abruptly that Nolan and Bex both lost their grip on the edge. Nolan managed to catch himself on the wall and grab Bex before she stumbled. With a nod, she righted herself and pushed him upright, too. They both turned toward the door.

The crack had widened to about fifty centimeters, just enough for Jadis to slip her armored body through.

Bex spun and beckoned to her daughter. “Boop, baby, come here! Time to go.”

Roz, who had returned to kneel beside Jared, leaped to her feet and rushed over to her mother. Bex took the little girl’s hand and pulled Roz through the opening.

Nolan turned to his brother, who remained unconscious on his blanket. With speed born of desperation, he stooped, lifted his brother into his arms, and carried him toward the gap in the door.

Jadis was waiting for him there. “Pass him to me!”

Nolan dropped his brother’s feet onto the floor and propelled him upright. Jared’s limp frame collapsed through the door, but Jadis’ armor-enhanced strength sufficed to catch him before he fell. The moment she was clear, Nolan squeezed himself into the opening. His combat pack stuck for a brief instant. With a growl, he dragged his body through and into the stone tunnel beyond. Helmet light on, Balefire rifle clutched in one hand, he raced after Jadis and helped her haul Jared down the tunnel.

Faster! The thought clawed at the back of Nolan’s mind. They had to get out of the narrow passage, had to reach the hover-train tunnel before—

A deafening roar echoed from behind him, and a wave of fire rolled down the basement stairs, through the open door, and into the tunnel. Nolan and Jadis just managed to get Jared beyond the reach of the flames, but the passage around them shook so violently Nolan feared it would collapse atop them. The deep, angry rumbling of the explosion was punctuated by the crash of the cabin’s remnants crumbling.

The path behind them was sealed, the last vestiges of what had once been Nolan’s life gone up in smoke and reduced to rubble. The only way out now was forward.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Dust still shook loose from the roof of the tunnel as the cabin finished collapsing above Nolan’s head. He paid it no heed—his attention was locked on the lights moving ahead of him. Bex and her helmet light led the way, with Roz clutched tightly in her arms and her MK75 slung over her back. Jadis helped Nolan half-drag, half-carry Jared’s limp body down the passage toward the hover-train track.

There was a chance, though a slim one, that the EMP blast hadn’t cut off the hover-train’s power. That would make the hundred-meter ride to the hidden landing pad far quicker—quick enough that they could vanish into the rainforest long before the Black Crows finished sifting through the debris of Tanis’ cabin.

The moment they reached the hover-train tunnel, Nolan handed his brother off to Jadis. Taia had control of her combat suit and would help compensate for Jared’s weight. Unslinging his Balefire, Nolan moved around Bex to examine the hover-train itself. Hope flooded him as he spotted the lights still blinking on the console—it hadn’t been killed by the EMP blast!

“Get on!” he called to Jadis and Bex over comms. “It’ll get us—“

His words were interrupted by the hiss of firing blaster rifles, and blue-white bolts zipped down the tunnel toward him. Nolan dropped into a crouch, using the hover-train car for cover, and shouldered his rifle. His hope turned to dismay as he caught sight of the armed and armored figures appearing at the far end of the tunnel.

Damn it! The Black Crows had found their hidden landing pad and now cut them off.

Nolan drew in a breath, letting his mind settle into that cold, calm place as he took deliberate aim and squeezed the trigger. Once, shift aim, twice, shift again, three times. Three white-hot projectiles sped through the darkness and ripped into the foremost Black Crows.

Yet even as the bodies dropped, more shadows darkened the mouth of the tunnel. By the time Nolan squeezed off his fifth shot, more than twenty Black Crows had taken up position just outside the tunnel, using its sides for cover as they traded fire with Nolan.

“Get behind the hover-train!” he shouted. Jadis’ armor would protect her from the Black Crows’ blaster bolts, but he wouldn’t risk an unlucky shot taking her down or knocking her out.

The clattering roar of the MK75 echoed from a few meters behind Nolan as Bex joined in the fight.

“How many grenades you got left?” Bex asked over comms.

Nolan didn’t need to glance down. “Two flashbangs and a frag. You?”

“Flashbang and a Gatecrasher,” Bex answered. “That’ll have to be enough!”

Nolan shot down a Black Crow peering out from behind cover before the enemy could loose a shot, then was forced to duck as the contractors on the opposite side of the tunnel entrance poured a barrage of blaster bolts into the front of the hover-train car. The metal was lightweight, designed for speed on the anti-grav rails, and it couldn’t take much more.

“Enough for what?” Nolan demanded. “Tell me you’re not thinking of making a break for it!”

“Not a lot of other options.” Bex had to shout over the roar of her firing machine gun. The MK75 poured a steady stream of blaster bolts at the enemies at the mouth of the tunnel, keeping them pinned down and preventing them from advancing. “We’re in a fucking kill corridor here, and that hover-train car’s not going to be good cover for much longer.”

As if to emphasize her words, one of the Black Crows’ blaster bolts chewed through the hover-train car’s front wall and whizzed past mere centimeters from Nolan’s left side. Growling a curse, Nolan popped up and shot down one of the hostiles pouring fire on their position. Dread seeped down his spine as he caught sight of more Black Crows spilling onto the landing pad. He counted twenty, maybe thirty reinforcements coming to join the fight.

“So what’s the plan, then?” Jadis asked, opening up with the BR51 rifle she’d found in the cabin’s armory. “Tell me one of you two geniuses have an idea that gets us out of here!”

“Working on it,” Nolan and Bex both shouted back at the same time.

Nolan fought to work the problem. He could cover the hundred meters to the tunnel’s mouth in the space of a few seconds, hopefully moving fast enough to evade the enemy’s fire. But once he reached the landing pad, he’d still be surrounded by close to fifty Black Crows. Even if he could soften them up with the last of his grenades, there’d still be a damned lot of them.

And he had nowhere to run. He glanced at the countdown clock on his HUD. 08:19, it read. Eight minutes until the Scimitar arrived with backup. He couldn’t lug Jared’s unconscious body into the forest while engaged in a running firefight. Bex would never be able to fight and carry Roz.

No, in this scenario, with these specific parameters, there was only one thing they could do.

“We can’t try and break out,” he said quickly. “Our best bet is to hold here, force them to come to us. All we need to do is buy ourselves time for Master Sergeant Kane and the Scimitar to get here!”

“I believe the Phantasm will be operational within twelve minutes and nine seconds,” Taia said. “However, without a connection to my systems outside the interference field, I cannot be certain.”

“Hear that?” Nolan spoke without taking his eyes off the enemy, and without letting up on the fire pressure. He squeezed the trigger even as he talked, taking down first one Black Crow, then another, forcing the contractors holding the tunnel’s northern wall back. “The Scimitar should be here in eight minutes. Eight! We can hold that long!”

Bex rumbled an angry growl, but replied, “Fuck, I hate it when you’re right, Cerberus!”

Nolan would have chuckled, but he was too busy putting holes in the Black Crows. He had to focus on his targets, make each shot count. At the same time, he had to keep an eye on the reinforcements and watch for any sign of RPGs or heavy machine guns that could inflict serious damage on their defensive position. He let Bex’s MK75 and Jadis’ BR51 do the heavy lifting of keeping the contractors from advancing.

And they would have to advance, he knew. A hundred meters was reaching the far end of close combat range for the average firefight. The Black Crows would likely be trained to shoot up to two hundred meters, but their accuracy and superior numbers would be maximized under seventy-five. Between their light-caliber blaster rifles and poor marksmanship, the contractors presented far less of a threat to Nolan and his companions than they might realize.

The moment they did, however, they’d call for an advance. Worse, they might have another of those goddamned Mamelukes nearby—or simply call over the one that had slagged the cabin.

He glanced at his HUD. 07:51, it read. He cursed. Time had a weird way of dilating and contracting during combat. Hours could pass in what felt like the blink of an eye and seconds could drag on for an eternity.

Come on! He gritted his teeth. Just a few more minutes!

Nolan took his time with each shot, refusing to let the pressure from the enemy at the mouth of the tunnel make him sloppy. His combat-trained mind ignored the blaster bolts whizzing around him, trusting to muscle memory to keep him behind cover and out of the enemy’s line of fire. With the smooth, practiced ease of millions of repetitions, he sighted on his targets, drew in a breath, and squeezed the trigger. Again and again, settling into a rhythm both relaxed and faster than anything the average soldier could possibly manage.

This, at least, Nolan understood with crystal clarity. The hiss and crackle of gunfire, the thundering beat of his pulse in his ears, the bitter taste in his mouth, the sweat dripping down his face. Everything around him felt familiar, because it was. He’d been in combat so many times before, and he knew what to do. He knew how to survive this, just as he had for the fifteen years he’d spent fighting the Terran League, and the nearly five years he’d spent as Cerberus.

In the battle calm, there were no worries about treacherous handlers, hidden plots by clandestine organizations, or mysterious secrets of exo- or astro-biology. All that simply faded into the background, until nothing remained but a man, his rifle, and the enemies trying to kill him. The enemies he could see trying to kill him—because he could see them right back.

Nolan only paused to sight his shots and squeeze the trigger before moving on to the next target. He picked off the Black Crows at the mouth of the tunnel one by one, shooting limbs, heads, rifles, even feet. Any target they presented, he sent a white-hot needle of light through it. Pink misted in the daylight, blood stained the concrete of the landing pad, and the screams of contractors with limbs shredded or ripped clean off by the high-velocity Balefire rounds echoed.

Yet for every contractor he took down, there seemed to be another to take their place. The reinforcements kept streaming in.

How many of these motherfuckers were on that transport? Nolan wondered as another dozen Black Crows joined in the battle.

“RPG, south side!” Bex shouted over comms.

Nolan swiveled to his right, searching his enemies for the threat Bex had identified. His gut twisted as he spotted the Black Crow racing up to join the firefight, carrying a grenade launcher. It was no ordinary RPG—this was a rocket-propelled plasma grenade, the sort that would slag the hover-train and spray liquid plasma particles hot enough to burn through armor, flesh, and bone. The moment that RPPG fired, it was game over for Nolan and his companions.

No fucking way, Nolan thought as he calmly settled his crosshairs on the target. Not the person, but the weapon. There was a spot, he knew—right where the RPPG clicked into the launcher—that would deliver maximum results.

He drew in a deep breath, waited until the Black Crow’s advance slowed and dropped to one knee to take aim down the tunnel. Then he fired. A single shot, barely a twitch of his finger to pull the trigger past its break point. The Balefire Mark 2.1 hummed in his hands and sent a white-hot needle racing toward the enemy.

The bolt struck dead center on the RPPG, and the grenade detonated with a deafening BOOM and a brilliant flash of light. The explosion sprayed superheated particles in all directions, spattering the nearest Black Crows. Everything the plasma touched caught instantly alight—uniforms, helmets, armor, guns, hands, masks, exposed faces, everything. The screams of the burning Black Crows echoed through the tunnel, horrible shrieks of pure agony that chilled Nolan to the bone.

Then came a sound that sent dread rippling down his spine: the deep, mechanical rumbling of a heavy vehicle.

An S-A3CT Mameluke was rolling onto the landing pad.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

One shot from the Mameluke’s plasma cannon would be game over for Nolan, Bex, Jadis, Jared, and Roz. No combat suit could survive a direct blast of the superheated plasma particles. The thirty-centimeter ball of concentrated plasma would expand to consume everything within the tunnel—metal, flesh, bone, even the oxygen in the air. Not even ashes would remain behind to mark the existence of Nolan and his companions.

The only way they survived this was taking out the tank before it got into position, turned, and opened fire.

Nolan didn’t bother glancing at his HUD—the countdown clock only mattered if they lived long enough for the Scimitar to arrive or for the Phantasm to be fully operational once more. In the space between galloping heartbeats, he went through every possible option to get them out of this alive.

He had just one course of action.

“Kali, grenades!” he shouted over comms. Spinning, he vaulted the low front wall of the hover-train car and circled around behind Bex’s position.

She spoke without tearing her gaze from the enemy. “The fuck are you—“

“Just hand them over!” Nolan said, cutting her off. “I’ve got to take out that tank’s plasma cannon!”

His gaze went to Roz, who sat huddled with her back against the hover-train car, eyes squeezed shut and hands pressed firmly over her ears. Then to Jared, who lay on the tunnel’s permacrete floor between the rails, and Jadis, who knelt on the opposite side of the car and returned fire at the Black Crows. If he didn’t act, they died. Horribly. He had no choice—even if it put his own life at risk, he’d have to gamble that he was just fast enough, smart enough, and skilled enough to survive.

All of this flashed through his mind in an instant, and when he turned back to Bex, he found her plucking the last of her grenades from her belt. “Go!” She thrust the flashbang and Gatecrasher into his hands. “I’ll carve a path for you.”

Nolan snatched the grenades and, with a mental command to activate his digital cloaking, leaped to his feet and charged down the tunnel. He had nowhere near enough power to use his boot thrusters and conceal himself, but his anti-grav boots lifted him off the ground just enough that he could throw himself forward into a sprinting skim-skate.

He was a blur of motion, his eyes locked on the daylight outside the tunnel and the Mameluke tank rolling steadily closer. Already he could see the plasma cannon swiveling toward the tunnel. He had a matter of seconds to get there before the tank was in position to fire.

“Graahhh!” Bex’s throaty roar echoed over comms, accompanied by a full-auto burst of blaster fire. Her MK75 spat hundreds of rounds per minute, and she raked the enemy with high-caliber bolts that shredded their armor and helmets.

Nolan thumbed the trigger of Bex’s flashbang, then hurled it with all his strength toward the mouth of the tunnel. The Black Crows staggered back from the bright light and deafening sound, and for a moment the enemy gunfire slackened—just enough to put hope in Nolan’s chest.

He tightened his grip on the Gatecrasher, preparing for the moment when he could whip his arm back and forward to send it hurtling at the Mameluke. Not until he got much closer—close enough that he knew for certain that he couldn’t miss. The only chance of surviving was to send the grenade right down the yawning black hole of the plasma cannon’s barrel. A once-in-a-lifetime throw, but everything was riding on it.

The tank’s barrel began to glow, and Nolan imagined he could feel the hum of its engine as it generated the ball of plasma. His HUD marked the distance to his target—thirty meters to the end of the tunnel, and forty to the Mameluke. He leaned into the skim-skate with every shred of strength and determination, willing himself to cross the rest of that space in the last few seconds remaining before the plasma cannon fired.

But even as forty meters became thirty, the glow of the barrel brightened, and Nolan felt the horrible sinking sensation in his stomach. He had just one second before that cannon fired. He had to throw the grenade now or it would be too late.

He wound up but never got the chance to throw. Before he could send the grenade hurtling forward, blaster bolts hissed toward him and slammed into his helmet, chestplate, and torso. The rounds failed to pierce his combat suit, but the succession of blows pummeled him with such force he was thrown off-balance. Caught in full sprint, he had no chance to catch himself. He fell hard, tumbling end over end, and slammed into the permacrete wall of the tunnel.

Darkness washed over him for a second, and when he managed to open his eyes, sparks whirled in his vision. The impact had knocked the wind from his lungs, and the blaster bolt strikes sent pain rippling through his upper body.

Yet that was nothing compared to the horror that consumed his mind. “No!” The roar burst from his lips, consuming the last of his oxygen, and he struggled to rise. Dread weighed heavy on him and fixed him in place, as if his body rebelled against the sight that he knew awaited him when he lifted his head.

Through his dizzily spinning vision, Nolan expected to see the sudden burst of blinding light as the plasma cannon fired. He braced himself for the loud THRUMM of superheated particles bursting into the tunnel, followed by a wash of blistering heat as it exploded against the hover-train car and fire consumed everything. He could already feel the acid rising in his throat as he watched everyone that mattered to him turned to ash in the space of a horrifying instant.

Then his jaw dropped. The plasma cannon’s glow was dimming. The Black Crows around the mouth of the tunnel, just twenty meters from where he lay, had their guns trained on him and their fingers on their triggers, yet no blaster bolts hissed toward him.

Confusion, shock, and pain rooted Nolan in place. What the hell is—

A man’s voice echoed over the Mameluke’s loudspeaker. “Cerberus, hold your fire!”

Nolan blinked, unable to believe what he’d just heard.

Again, the man spoke. “You’re going to want to answer this.”

Nolan opened his mouth, though no words came out. They never had a chance.

“Nolan,” Taia said in his earpiece, “you’ve got an incoming comms call. The caller is identifying himself as Raptor.”

Nolan tried to understand her words, tried to think clearly. He knew that name, “Raptor”—it was important somehow—but his collision with the tunnel wall and this sudden cessation of hostilities left his mind reeling.

“Put him through,” he finally managed to say as he struggled to his feet, fighting to ignore the pain in his upper body and head.

A second later, an unfamiliar male voice echoed in his earpiece. “Cerberus, you’ve succeeded in getting my personal attention.”

It took Nolan, still mentally locked in battle mode, a full second to finally understand what was going on. To remember who Raptor was and why he mattered. The events of the last few hours washed over him, and everything suddenly made sense. The Protection Bureau had created and thrown up this interference field to cut off all comms signals; they could doubtless let one through if they wanted, especially one this important.

“You’ve proven quite a troublesome asset,” the man continued, though his voice changed to a deeper, richer baritone. When he spoke again, it sounded high-pitched and bordering on feminine—a voice-modulating algorithm, Nolan realized, concealing his voice the way Taia generated the “Hellhound” rumble. “Agent Styver was right to recommend you—“

“Cut the bullshit, Raptor.” Nolan was in no mood for whatever the man wanted to say. He was once more in full control of his mental faculties, keenly aware of the myriad aches and pains of his body, and more furious than he’d ever been. This was the man who was responsible—either directly or indirectly—for the attack on the Celestial Cascades. Because of him, Jadis, Bex, Roz, and Jared had come within a heartbeat of dying horribly. Nolan wanted nothing more than to put a bullet in the man’s brain. He’d settle for negotiating for their survival. “If you got my message, then you know what I’ve done to your data.”

He didn’t know for certain that Taia’s virus had actually been uploaded into the Protection Bureau’s servers or slipped past whatever cybersecurity measures they had in place. But he couldn’t think of any other reason Raptor would contact him here, now. After all, as Agent Styver had made clear, while he was a valuable source of Project Icarus data, they had more test subjects on hand. Worse, as Jared’s condition illustrated, they could simply make more by administering Mutagen ZX125.

His educated guess proved accurate.

“Indeed.” Distaste echoed in Raptor’s voice, now altered to sound like a petulant child. “That is inconvenient. I take it you have demands.”

“I do,” Nolan said without hesitation. “And after everything I’ve done for the Protection Bureau all these years, you know exactly who I am and what I’m capable of. Which is why we both know that I’m not exaggerating when I say that it’s in both our best interests for you to give me what I ask.”

“Or,” Raptor said, his tone bordering on flippant, “I just give the command to open fire, and you and your companions go splatter and splash across that tunnel in which you’re hiding.”

Nolan tensed, his mind on full alert and scanning the Black Crows for the first sign of movement. They kept their guns trained on him but held their fire. The Mameluke’s plasma cannon showed no sign of stoking its generators again, but all that could change in a moment. Nolan’s chances of walking away from this battle were dangerously slim. Worse, the chances that Jared, Bex, Jadis, and Roz walked out of there were nearly nonexistent as long as the Black Crows had that tank.

But Nolan had weapons of his own. None that could directly impact this particular firefight, but powerful enough that they gave him serious leverage against Raptor.

“Do that,” Nolan said, “and that virus currently running rampant in your system will grow some nasty fangs and start shredding instead of just encrypting.”

He didn’t know precisely what manner of virus Taia had unleashed, but she had made it clear that the Protection Bureau’s data wouldn’t be lost, only locked away and inaccessible to anyone except her.

“And what would you have in exchange?” Raptor asked in an aristocrat’s laconic drawl. “I take it this isn’t about money.”

“This is what it’s always been about,” Nolan snapped. “Freedom. Mine and Jared’s. The chance to walk away, like any operator in my situation should be given.”

“Any operator in your situation.” Raptor repeated the words, now sounding like a backwater Moabite. “I see your stay in the Vault opened your eyes to the true extent of the value you provide to the Empire.”

“As your lab rat!” Nolan fought to control his temper—anger wouldn’t serve him in this negotiation. “Whatever you fuckers gave me and Warbeast Team, we’re done being your experiments to be poked and prodded. We’re walking away. All of us. Away from the Protection Bureau. Away from the arrangement that I had with Agent Styver. Away from all of your tests. You have dozens more subjects. Run your tests on them and let us live our lives.”

“Even with your brother’s life hanging in the balance?” Raptor asked. “He—“

“Was given a reduced sentence and a transfer to a minimum-security prison on Exodus VI.” Nolan had no desire to play this man’s game. Men like Agent Styver and Raptor—if he even was a man—tended to twist truth and mix it with lies, using words like weapons. “But after the evidence I found that your agency hired Shadowspear to frame Jared, it looks like we’re going to be renegotiating that particular deal.”

“If you believe we’ll just let you run off with such a sophisticated piece of Imperial technology in your brain—“

Nolan cut him off. “What I believe is that I have a goddamned lot of hard evidence proving that the Protection Bureau exists, and that it’s running a lot of shady shit inside the Empire.” His jaw muscles clenched. “I’ve got enough here to get every news outlet, pirate radio station, and dark holo-net site talking about you and the handful of agents working under you.”

“Thereby implicating yourself in the process,” Raptor said. There was no stress in his voice—which currently sounded too damned much like Fineas Derring—only the unshakeable calm of someone confident in their negotiating position. “You’d end up right back in the Vault.”

“Not if I walk away.” This was the moment that it came down to. Everything he’d done, the many pieces he’d worked so hard to put together, had all led him here. “Jared gets his pardon. His criminal record is erased, down to the tiniest data bit. Wiped away as if it had never existed. Me, I walk away to live a civilian’s life. No more Cerberus, no more missions, no more Project Icarus tests. I go back to being Nolan Garrett, wheelchair-bound retired Ironhand. The AI stays with me, and you fuckers never touch her.”

“I take it you expect us to simply let your friends go as well?” Raptor’s tone was calm, but there was no mistaking the threat in his voice. Nolan knew the man wasn’t just talking about Jadis and Bex, who stood at his side in the tunnel. The bastard had to know about the rest of Warbeast Team, too. “After such rampant destruction, and so many crimes against the Empire? My agent is dead—”

“Because you hire out shitty contractors,” Nolan snapped. It came as no surprise that Raptor knew about his agent’s fate—the Protection Bureau knew far too much about far too much. “It was your Black Crows who gunned him down.”

“Hmph.” Raptor’s response sounded as if he hadn’t known this particular tidbit. “Still, it was your kidnapping of Agent Styver that got him killed.”

“He died in the line of duty.” Nolan felt something cold and hard form in the pit of his stomach. It was the same spiel rattled off to all the mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, and spouses who had lost loved ones during the war with the Terran League. “Honestly, I don’t give a shit about whether Agent Styver was an invaluable asset, a run-of-the-mill desk jockey, or your goddamned fuck-buddy. He’s dead, your men killed him, and there’s nothing either of us can do to change that. But what we can change—what you can change—is what happens to all those trillions of exabytes of data—“

“Yottabytes,” Taia corrected. “Trillions of yottabytes of data.”

“—that you’ve collected,” Nolan finished. “You want it back, you know our terms. The choice is yours, Raptor.”

Long seconds of silence passed. Despite his outward show of calm defiance, Nolan’s heart was galloping a furious beat. The adrenaline rush of battle coursed in his veins and set every muscle fiber in his body burning. Fear howled at him to move, to find a better vantage point to return fire when the order inevitably came to gun him down.

But he couldn’t abandon his position. He couldn’t leave Bex, still sheltering Roz with her own body. He couldn’t let Jadis, who still knelt beside the hover-train ready to resume the fight, catch a bullet because she’d been too damned stubborn to walk away from him. Jared had endured so much over the past years; Nolan couldn’t let anything else happen to his brother.

So he remained where he was, hands gripping his Balefire Mark 2.1 with a rock-steady hold, prepared to fight to the death.

Then a familiar voice echoed over comms. “Someone call for backup?” Master Sergeant Kane growled. “Say the word, Cerberus, and we’ll light these fuckers up!”

Without his command, Taia projected an image onto his HUD. The feed from the Scimitar’s front-facing digital optics showed the ship speeding over the rainforest, its guns trained directly on the force of Black Crows assembled on the no-longer-concealed landing pad.

Then the feed split, and another video stream appeared. This one came from the Phantasm, once more fully operational and slowing to hover, invisible, above the landing pad.

Both had entered the interference field—a few minutes too late to join in the battle, but to Nolan it felt that they’d arrived at precisely the right time.

“Tell your men to look up,” Nolan said, once more on the comms channel with Raptor. “Your Mameluke isn’t going to get its guns elevated in time to take my ship down before it’s blown to shit. It won’t get a shot off at us, either, not with my team’s finger on the trigger. Your Black Crows will last about two seconds longer before they’re ripped to shreds by its guns.”

He doubted that would do much to convince the man—Agent Styver had made it clear that the contractors were nothing more than assets, fully expendable—so he gave the knife a final twist.

“You’ve lost, Raptor. You know that as well as I do. But if you make me gun down the rest of these fuckers, then you’ll never get your data back.” Nolan dropped his voice to a low, gravelly growl. “And after all of your data is gone, I’ll set my AI to destroying every shred of information that you could possibly use to try and come after me.”

This time, when anger surged in Nolan’s chest, he didn’t push it back down. He leaned into the fury, used it to add fire to his words. “All that time, I’ll hunt you and every one of your agents down on every Imperial planet in every solar system, until you and I have a pleasant little face-to-face meeting that only one of us is walking away from. You saw what I did to Agent Styver in the space of a few hours. Imagine what I could do with days. Weeks. Months.”

“You—“

“I have the resources to do it,” Nolan drove on. “Agent Styver always paid well. I’ve got money enough to dedicate the rest of my life to tracking you and every Protection Bureau agent, asset, and hired gun. And you know my record. You know what I did in the war, what the Silverguard trained me to do. So the question, Raptor”—he spat the word as an insult—“is whether you want to go to war with me, or if you’d rather save yourself and your Protection Bureau a lifetime’s worth of suffering and give me what I goddamn want!?”

What he’d been promised in the first place, no less.

Again, the silence stretched on for long seconds, until nearly a minute passed with no answer from Raptor. Yet Nolan could almost feel the presence on the other side of the comms call, feel the tension radiating across the unknown distance between him and this man who had become his enemy.

He knew how much he was worth to the Protection Bureau. He’d pulled off jobs that by all rights should have been impossible, taken down targets no one else could. Taia was a masterpiece of technology that continued to exceed even her creators’ expectations. Doctor Sladek and Val had been stunned at his unique physiology, at the mixture of tungstenite and MCH that could very well be the key to unlocking their Project Icarus efforts.

That was why the Protection Bureau had to let him walk away. That was the only way they had a chance of reeling him back in down the line, when they needed him for another big, impossible job that only he could pull off.

When Raptor spoke again, his digitally modulated voice was calm. “Done,” he said, his coreworld accent distinctly Genesian. “You drive a hard bargain, Cerberus. Pray we don’t cross paths again. Ever. Or you won’t walk away so easily.”

Nolan opened his mouth to respond, but a click signaled the end of the comms call. A second later, a Black Crow’s voice echoed from the tank’s loudspeaker. “Move out! Back to the transport.”

For a moment, the contractors at the mouth of the tunnel refused to move. Their rifles remained firmly trained on Nolan, fingers still on their triggers. Nolan knew exactly how they felt—they’d just watched their comrades, perhaps even some friends, gunned down in battle. And now their commander expected them to simply walk away and leave the enemy alive?

Nolan could see their thoughts written plain on their blood-spattered faces, the fury in the hate-filled glares they shot at him. He tightened his grip on his Balefire Mark 2.1, ready to evade and return fire if they decided to take one last shot at him.

Their discipline held. Slowly, they lowered their weapons and, with one collective, venomous glare directed at him, turned to march off the landing pad, hauling their wounded and dead with them as they followed the Mameluke into the jungle.

And just like that, the battle was over. They were free.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Nolan paused just long enough to salute the Scimitar, which remained hovering above the landing pad. Trusting that Master Sergeant Kane would keep an eye on the departing Black Crows—with help from Taia in the Phantasm—Nolan raced back the way he’d come minutes earlier.

He reached the hover-train just as Bex rose from behind cover. At Nolan’s mental command, Taia had looped her and the rest of Warbeast Team into his conversation with Raptor. She’d heard everything.

“Fuuuuuuuck!” She exhaled the word in a long breath. “That’s really it? It’s done?”

Nolan could only shrug. “For now. They’ll come crawling back in a few months, maybe a year or two. But right now, they’ll let me go. You, too. Everyone. We’re free.”

Bex lowered her rifle, her shoulders drooping from exhaustion. “Damn.” Another long exhale. “I...” She seemed at a loss for words. Instead of speaking, she removed her helmet and ran a hand through her sweat-soaked hair. “So what are you going to do?” she finally asked, not meeting his eyes.

Nolan swallowed the lump rising in his throat. He knew exactly what that question meant—a part of him had wondered the same thing since he saw her again. But he couldn’t think about that, not yet. Not until he figured out how to help his brother.

So, instead of saying what he wanted to say—what he suspected she wanted from him—he just said, “It’s time you think about what you’re going to do.” He thrust his chin toward Roz.

Bex looked down to where her daughter huddled for cover behind the hover-train car, knees pulled up to her chest, face buried in her knees. She returned her gaze to Nolan, her eyes searching, but after a moment, she gave him a little nod of understanding and turned away. Kneeling, Bex gently pried Roz’s hands away. The little girl’s head snapped up and her eyes locked onto her mother’s face.

“It’s over, baby,” Bex said. “The bad men are gone.”

Roz gave a whimpering sob and threw her arms around her mother’s neck, pressing her face into Bex’s shoulder. Bex dropped her rifle and scooped up her daughter in both arms. She sat there, in the shadows of the tunnel, cradling the little girl like an infant, rocking her back and forth as she whispered soothing words.

Nolan smiled. It was a good sight. Bex deserved all the happiness in the world. He wished he could be part of that happiness and that world, but not until he was absolutely certain Raptor would keep his word.

“Nolan,” Jadis said over comms, “Jared’s waking up!”

All thoughts of Bex and Roz faded from his mind as he heard his brother’s weak coughing, accompanied by a groan and a single harsh, whispered word. “No…lan?”

“Jared!” Nolan slung the Balefire onto his magnetic back holster and raced to his brother’s side.

Jadis was already there, kneeling next to Jared and checking him over. “No wounds,” she said. “And he looks…better.” She didn’t sound convinced.

In the beam of Jadis’ helmet light, Nolan could see the extreme pallor of Jared’s skin, the look of confusion and fear on his face, the hints of yellow coloring the whites of his eyes. Jared labored for every gasping breath, and his hands pressed against his chest, as if he struggled to push air into his lungs.

“Jared.” Nolan gripped his brother’s hand. “Jared, can you hear me? Talk to me!”

Jared’s gaze darted toward him, but no recognition shone in his wide eyes.

Nolan tore at his helmet until he finally managed to pull it free. Dropping it to the ground at his brother’s side, he grabbed Jared by the shoulders and shook him gently.

“Jared, it’s Nolan. Do you recognize me?”

That elicited a reaction. Jared’s eyes swam into focus, locking onto Nolan’s face and sweat-soaked hair. His eyes widened, but with recognition rather than confusion. “Nolan!” He reached up and grabbed Nolan’s forearms. “Y-you came back.”

“Of course I came back.” Nolan gripped his brother’s shoulders tighter. “I couldn’t leave you, brother. Not again.” He pulled Jared close into a hug—it felt so strange, embracing a man he hadn’t seen in the better part of seven years, yet after all they’d both endured, he wanted nothing more. This was Jared, the kid brother he’d fought his entire life to protect. “I’ve never stopped trying to get you out!”

“I know!” Jared said, his voice faint, his arms too weak to return Nolan’s embrace. “I always knew you’d come for me.”

Tears burned behind Nolan’s eyes as he pulled back from the hug.

“L-Lina.” Jared struggled to form the words through his shortness of breath and the pain shining in his eyes. “She’s…gone?”

“Yes, she is.” Nolan had to swallow hard to keep from crying. “I’m sorry, Jared.” His voice turned raspy, hoarse. “I didn’t know she was—“

“So she didn’t find you?” Jared’s voice rose in intensity, fire suddenly blazing in his eyes. “She didn’t…tell you?”

Nolan hated seeing his brother like this. So weak, so confused. Did Jared truly not remember that they’d had this exact conversation a couple of days earlier?

Fuck! Nolan inwardly cursed. What the hell have they done to you, Jared? The Project Icarus experiments, his time in the Reformation tank, and the cocktail of drugs they’d given him could have inflicted far more neurological and physiological damage than was visible on the surface.

“Taia,” he said mentally, “I need to know what your tests found. I need to know if he’s—“

Jared’s voice cut him off. “It’s not too late, though!” The fires in his eyes blazed brighter, shining with a fierce determination. “You can still…stop it!”

Nolan’s brow furrowed. “Stop what?”

But Jared seemed not to hear him. He tightened his grip on Nolan’s arms and pulled him closer. “Listen to me!” he rasped around labored breaths. “After my discharge, I was approached by a man. Bennett.”

Ice slithered down Nolan’s spine. That name—it belonged to the man who had delivered the burn order and everything that Warden Smythe had needed to incapacitate and imprison Nolan in the Vault.

Jared was still talking. “Bennett wanted me to work for him. Some courier detail. Something that had me meeting with all sorts of people right here on Exodus VI.” Shadows filled his eyes. “Bad people, Nolan. Criminals.”

Nolan sucked in a breath. Detective Locke had mentioned video footage of Jared meeting with the leaders of the Five Hand Syndicate. Nolan had believed it was forged, digitally altered the way Ex-Umbra had falsified the footage of Bex breaking into the IAF armory outside Phobury. But was it actually legitimate? If so, this Bennett might have been setting Jared up long before he was ever arrested.

“But one day,” Jared continued, his voice dropping to a raspy whisper, “I was waiting to pick up a package from him and I overheard him talking on comms with someone. Mentioned something about Project Icarus. Said it was going too slowly, that ‘he’—he called that someone Machinist—needed to hurry up. That the deadline was coming soon.”

“What deadline?” Nolan’s mind raced. “For what?”

“I…I think I knew, before. I can’t remember what, though!” Jared shook his head weakly. “But hearing him talk about Project Icarus reminded me of that doctor I helped rescue on Proxima Centauri B.”

“Doctor Sladek?” Nolan asked.

“Yeah.” Confusion twisted Jared’s face. “How did you—“

“It doesn’t matter now,” Nolan insisted. He could see his brother struggling to speak, the way his eyelids grew heavier with each labored breath. “Tell me why you sent Lina to find me!”

“Project Icarus,” Jared said, visibly fighting to think clearly. “I heard him mention your Silverguard call sign, Cerberus, when he was talking about their ‘asset in New Avalon.’ I knew it had to be you—the last time we’d talked, you mentioned something about settling there. He said you were giving them problems. That it was time to find a way to get you under control before he had to take more drastic action.”

Nolan did some quick mental calculations. “How long before you were arrested did this happen?”

Furrows appeared in Jared’s brow. “Two, three weeks, maybe.”

Nolan’s jaw muscles clamped tight. That fit with the timeline of his intention to sever ties with the Protection Bureau. Agent Styver—and whoever the hell this “Bennett” was within the organization—had responded by framing Jared for murder, drug-running, and treason. All to ensure Nolan’s compliance and to give them access to Jared’s biology for Project Icarus testing.

“Lina!” Jared gasped, and for a moment, Nolan thought his brother was once again growing confused and asking about his fiancée. But there was no bewilderment in Jared’s eyes. “Lina…” he said again. “She…was Mil-Int. Before I was arrested…she was trying to find you. To deliver…the message. To warn you…about Project Icarus. To try and help you…get out of whatever…mess you were in!”

Nolan’s eyebrows rose. He’d never met Lina—he hadn’t bothered contacting his brother for over a year before Jared’s arrest and incarceration—but the idea that she’d been on her way to help him only added to his burden of guilt.

Yet if she had been military intelligence, that could have explained how she’d managed to evade the Protection Bureau for nearly a year and a half after Jared was framed. Had she spent all that time trying to track him down? If so, Nolan had a pretty good idea why she hadn’t been able to find him. Taia kept a close eye on everything pertaining to his identity and any digital searches for him, even those on the darker underbelly of the holo-net. It wouldn’t have been difficult for her to block all of Lina’s attempts to locate him, even manipulating Imperial databases, as per her orders from both him and the Protection Bureau.

Worse, if the Protection Bureau had seen her as a threat—and the fact that they’d hired Shadowspear to track her down and execute her made that clear—they could have simply instructed Taia to keep Lina away from him. He would have never known unless she found him in person.

More than that, if Lina knew about Project Icarus, that might have explained why she was at Biovere Innovation. She could have been hunting Doctor Sladek as well as attempting to contact him. She’d simply been unfortunate enough to be at the laboratory at the same time Shadowspear had abducted the doctor—who the Protection Bureau had given the codename “Frankenstein.”

Before Nolan could ask any more questions, Jared’s eyes fluttered closed and his body began to tremble. It started as little more than a tremor, but quickly turned into a violent spasming and shaking that Nolan recognized as a seizure.

“Shit!” He grabbed Jared’s arms and held tight. “Jadis, grab his legs! We’ve got to turn him onto his side.”

With Jadis’ help, he managed to restrain Jared’s seizing body, though it proved a struggle to hang on to those writhing limbs. Horror surged in Nolan’s throat as he fought to keep his brother from hurting himself. “Taia, tell me you’ve got something to help him!”

“I had anti-epilepsy medications in the cabin, but that’s clearly not an option anymore!” Taia answered.

“There’s got to be—“ Nolan swallowed his words as Jared’s spasming slowed and his muscles relaxed, the seizure passing. Yet he had no time for relief; Jared had fallen unconscious, and, to Nolan’s horror, a stream of blood trickled from his mouth and nose. “Taia, what the fuck is happening to him? Tell me you’re done going over those test results!”

“I have,” Taia said. “Based on my scans, blood analyses, and rapid DNA sequencing data, the excessive cellular proliferation triggered by his MCH is leading to internal DNA damage to the point that his internal organs are being damaged. This seizure, along with his extreme weakness and difficulty remaining conscious for extended periods of time, are simply the manifestations of his body’s inability to adapt to the extreme telomere degeneration.”

“Don’t talk science to me!” Nolan shouted. “Tell me what’s happening to him, how I can help him!”

The horror swelled as Taia remained silent for long seconds. She only did that when she had really bad news that she didn’t want to tell him.

“Spit it out, Taia!” He clung to his brother, fighting to remain in control despite the fear threatening to overwhelm his mind. “I need to know!”

“I’m sorry, Nolan,” Taia said. “I wish I had better news, but the tests are conclusive. At this accelerated rate of breakdown, your brother has just forty-seven hours and nine minutes left to live.”

FROM THE PUBLISHER

Thank you for reading Rampant Destruction, book ten in Cerberus.

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ALSO IN THE SERIES

ASSASSINATION PROTOCOL

TERMINAL SECRETS

CYBER STRIKE

PARAGON SLAYER

VICIOUS JUSTICE

GHOST NEMESIS

SHADOW KILLER

REBEL HUNTER

LETHAL EXTRACTION

RAMPANT DESTRUCTION

COVERT INCURSION

FANTASY BOOKS BY ANDY PELOQUIN:

Hero of Darkness (Dark Fantasy):

Book 1: Darkblade Assassin

Book 2: Darkblade Outcast

Book 3: Darkblade Protector

Book 4: Darkblade Seeker

Book 5: Darkblade Slayer

Book 6: Darkblade Savior

Book 7: Darkblade Justice

QUEEN OF THIEVES (GRIMDARK):

BOOK 1: CHILD OF THE NIGHT GUILD

Book 2: Thief of the Night Guild

Book 3: Queen of the Night Guild

The Silent Champions (Military Fantasy):

Book 1: Shields in Shadow

Book 2: Battle for Peace

Book 3: Steel and Valor

Book 4: Courage to Sacrifice

Book 5: Ragged Heroes -- (companion novel)

Book 6: The Last March -- (companion novel)

HEIRS OF DESTINY (ACTION/ADVENTURE):

TRIAL OF STONE (BOOK 1)

Crucible of Fortune (Book 2)

Secrets of Blood (Book 3)

Storm of Chaos (Book 4)

Ascension of Death (Book 5)

The Renegade Apprentice (Book 6)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

I am, first and foremost, a storyteller and an artist—words are my palette. Fantasy and science fiction are my genres of choice, and I love to explore the darker side of human nature through the filter of fictional heroes, villains, and everything in between. I'm also a freelance writer, a book lover, and a guy who just loves to meet new people and spend hours talking about my fascination for the worlds I encounter in the pages of speculative fiction novels.

Fantasy and science fiction provide us with an escape, a way to forget about our mundane problems and step into worlds where anything is possible. It transcends age, gender, religion, race, or lifestyle--it is our way of believing what cannot be, delving into the unknowable, and discovering hidden truths about ourselves and our world in a brand new way. Fiction at its very best!

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Table of Contents

Rampant Destruction

Copyright

Contents

ALSO IN THE SERIES

NULLUS HOSTIS INVICTUS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

FROM THE PUBLISHER

ALSO IN THE SERIES

Fantasy Books by Andy Peloquin:

Queen of Thieves (Grimdark):

Heirs of Destiny (Action/Adventure):

About the Author

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