The doors opened to reveal hell.
Ships were trying to leave simultaneously, creating a deadly traffic jam in the launch bays. Those who couldn't reach their vessels were trying to steal others. Pulse fire created a deadly light show. Bodies littered the deck. Some dead, some pretending, all obstacles.
Bay 7 was three hundred meters away.
The Silver Hand sat there, looking impossibly far across the battlefield.
“We go from cover to cover,” Varrick said, his mind still working despite the blood loss. “Stay low. Move fast. Don't stop for anything.”
I squeezed his hand, and instead of answering, I kissed him. Hard, fast, tasting blood and desperation and promise.
“Always,” he said against my mouth when I pulled back.
Then we ran into hell, the Regalia in my hand, his blood still wet on my skin, the station dying around us. But we were alive. We were free.
And in seven minutes, we'd be gone.
VARRICK
The docking bay was pure chaos. Pulse fire created a deadly light show as two different syndicates fought for control of the launch platforms. A Nakamura war frigate had rammed into Bay 3, its crew pouring out with energy weapons drawn. The Torelli family's black cruisers blocked half the exit vectors, turning departure into a shooting gallery.
My shoulder was on fire. Not the clean burn of a normal pulse wound. This was different. Wrong. The edges of the blast crater in my flesh had a greenish tinge that meant only one thing: Nexian modification. Qeth's paranoia had extended to his weapons. The bastard had tipped his pulse charges with neurotoxin designed specifically to prevent Vinduthi healing.
The toxin was already spreading. I could feel it moving through my bloodstream like acid, each heartbeat pushing it deeper into my system. My left arm had gone numb from shoulder to fingertips. Black veins were beginning to web across my chest, visible through my torn shirt.
“Left!” Sabine yanked me sideways as pulse fire seared the air where my head had been.
A Poraki mercenary tried to claim our path to Bay 7. His amphibious skin had gone gray from too long in the station's dryair, making him desperate and sloppy. He raised his weapon. Some kind of modified scatter-shot that would have turned us both into paste.
Sabine moved before I could. She grabbed a piece of debris, metal sharp enough to cut, and threw it. The same wrist motion she used to deal cards, but faster. Harder. It caught him in the throat, spinning him backward. He dropped, dark blood pooling beneath him.
“You throw knives?” I managed through gritted teeth.
“Cards. Knives. Whatever works.” She hauled me forward, my weight barely slowing her down. “Bay 7. Your ship.”
We passed two Merrith techs cowering behind a fuel pod, their six-fingered hands covering their large eyes. A Mondian enforcer, not Krave, someone younger and hungrier, was systematically executing Qeth's former lieutenants against a bulkhead. The spray patterns on the wall said he'd been at it for a while.
“Don't look,” I said when Sabine's steps slowed.
“I've seen worse.” But her hand tightened on my arm.
The Silver Hand sat untouched in Bay 7, her dark hull reflecting the chaos around us. My ship. The one thing I'd kept from my life before Qeth's betrayal. She was sleek, built for speed over comfort, her lines suggesting violence barely contained.
My vision swam as we approached, edges going dark. The toxin was affecting my nervous system now. I stumbled on the ramp, would have fallen if Sabine hadn't caught me.
“The hatch.” I started.
She'd already found the control, her fingers moving over the panel. “It's locked to your biometrics.”
I pressed my palm against the scanner, smearing blood across it. For a moment, nothing happened. Then the shiprecognized me despite the poison changing my readings, and the hatch hissed open.
Sabine sealed it behind us while I collapsed into the pilot's seat. The familiar leather creaked under my weight, and for a moment, I just breathed. We'd made it this far.
“Can you fly this?” My words slurred. The toxin was spreading faster than expected.
“I deal cards.”
“Same precision. Different application.” I forced my eyes to focus on the console. The controls swam in and out of focus. “Blue panel. Touch the startup sequence. No, the other blue.”
