“What the hell happened to you two?”
“Sorry, Sarge,” Zander said apologetically, his eyes darting quickly from Tychus’s scant clothing to the tousled bed behind him. “Hey, Doc,” he said with a slight wave. The medic smiled and offered a half-assed salute.
“It’s bad, Tychus,” Zander continued in a hushed voice. “We overheard Vanderspool talking to Ryk’s dad. We’re talking Errol Bennet here—the head of an Old Family. They’re planning some big heist, and we’re right in the middle of it.
Tychus quickly ushered the guys into the room and glanced both ways to be sure the hallway was empty. He locked the door behind him. Zander wasn’t one to exaggerate, so Tychus knew something serious had gone down.
“We fell into the lake,” Zander continued. “Kydd has a gash on his head—he’s bleeding, as you can see, and I didn’t know where to take him. I don’t know who else is in on this.”
Tychus glanced at Kydd, who was trembling and drained of color, and seemed completely detached. “Hey, Doc! Get up,” Tychus said gruffly. “You got a cut to tend to.”
Doc was zoned out. Zander watched her slide off the bed and liked what he saw. But Tychus was right there so he had to avert his eyes as Cassidy rearranged the blanket prior to making her way over to a corner and rummaging through the pile of gear stored there. “Get him out of those wet clothes,” she ordered. “And get some hot caff from room service.”
Five minutes later a mostly clad Cassidy was there to clean Kydd’s cut and apply a plastiscab bandage. “Sorry your scar won’t be as ugly as the one Tychus has,” she said, “but you can try again later.”
Kydd’s eyes were still a bit dull, but he wasn’t shaking anymore, thanks to the bedspread that was wrapped around him. Room service arrived moments later, and if the bellman was surprised at the unusual scene inside, he showed no sign of it as Zander gave him a large tip.
Then, with both Zander and Kydd sipping hot drinks, it was time for them to share their story. Zander launched the narrative, but seconds later a heavyhearted Kydd began to chime in. Tychus grabbed a bottle of whiskey and dumped a generous dollop into Kydd’s drink; the booze took effect quickly and Kydd’s somber story soon transformed into an explosive, furious rant about his father. “The bastard disowned me,” Kydd said bitterly. “And he totally sold me out! But that’s not all… . He’s part of a plot to make us steal a billion dollars’ worth of ardeon crystals and then resocialize us! Turns out my father is a greedy scumbag! I’m going AWOL while I still can.”
Tychus sat sprawled on a reclining chair, still clad in nothing more than a pair of boxers. “Like hell you will,” he said, as he removed the stogie from his mouth long enough to blow some ashes off his massive chest. “You want to put it to the old man? Well, the best way to accomplish that is to take what he values the most … his money.” He took a deep swig out of the bottle.
It took Kydd a moment to absorb what Tychus was saying, but once he understood, a smile appeared on his face. “I like it, Sarge!” he said. “I like it a lot.”
“Good,” Tychus said grimly. “When the hell is Jim getting here?”
“Tomorrow morning,” Kydd replied. “And what about the rest of the squad?”
“I can see Harnack signing on to just about anything,” Zander replied, “and Ward will agree so long as he gets to kill some Kel-Morians.”
“All right, Zander, you be in charge of rounding everyone up. Once Jim arrives we’ll bang out a plan,” Tychus said. “It’ll be fekkin’ beautiful. Vanderspool won’t know what hit him, and your pop’ll be cryin’ into his soup while we make off with his blood money.” He looked back at Doc, who was propped against the headboard with her knees drawn up, her eyes focused on nothing in particular. He turned toward Zander and Kydd. “Now if you’ll excuse us, gentlemen, please get the hell out of my room.”
THE CITY OF DARBY, ON THE PLANET TURAXIS II
It was approximately 0900, and a misty rain was falling, as Doc slipped out of the hotel and into a hovercab. She took a hit of crab to steady her nerves.
The Mondoro Hotel was located at the very top of the terraced hill, where its guests could enjoy sweeping views of the lake below. So it took a while for the cab to make its way to the top, where it settled in under a formal portico, and a uniformed doorman hurried out to greet Cassidy.
A couple of dozen steps took her through a pair of sliding glass doors and into a sumptuous lobby. It was decorated with Talvarian marble and beautifully upholstered furniture, all of which was positioned around a fountain and tiled pool.
House fones were positioned here and there, so Doc chose one next to a comfortable chair, and put the receiver to her ear. Once the operator responded, she asked to be connected with Colonel Vanderspool’s room, and the fone started to ring a few seconds later. Her heart was pounding. It took the officer a long time to answer, and when he finally did, he sounded groggy. “Yes?”
“This is Petty Officer Third Class Cassidy,” Doc said. “I’m down in the lobby.”
A moment of silence passed before Vanderspool spoke again. He was clearly angry. “How the hell did you find me?”
“It wasn’t hard,” Cassidy answered honestly. “I went to the reception desk where I’m staying and asked the clerk for the name of the most expensive hotel in Darby.”
Vanderspool swore. “Okay, damn it … what do you want? If you’re out of crab that’s too bad. Maybe you can steal some money from Findlay.”
“No,” Doc replied levelly, “I’m not out of crab. And I don’t plan to be out of crab ever again. I have some very valuable information, and I expect to be paid for it.”
“Oh, really?” Vanderspool responded sarcastically. “What? You found out where Findlay keeps his cigars?”
“I know who you met with last night,” Doc replied, suddenly breathless. “And I know what you plan to steal—and how you intend to do it.”
There was a long pause before Vanderspool spoke. There was no sign of grogginess now. “I’m in room 804. Come on up.” There was a loud click as the connection was broken.
Doc smiled thinly as she stood, paused to examine herself in a full-length mirror, and straightened her clothes. Then, having shakily applied some lip-gloss, she made her way toward the elevators. Her knees felt weak, but she managed a steady stride.
As she walked, the image she’d been trying to avoid crept into her thoughts. Tychus—dead, disfigured, or worse, resocialized. As she entered the elevator, she shook the image out of her head and took another generous hit of crab. She felt for Tychus, in a primitive, selfish way—it felt good to be close to him at the end of the day. It made her feel less lonely.
But she knew Tychus would eventually dump her for someone else; they always did, and he, more than anyone, wasn’t the kind of guy who would stick around. She had to think of herself this time, and she wanted to be on the winning team. Vanderspool had the military apparatus to secure a victory, and could pay her enough to keep a solid stash of crab for a long time to come.
But the rest of the guys … they were her comrades, and it pained her to think that she was sealing their fate. So she closed her eyes as the drug flooded her brain, and felt thankful that she didn’t have to think at all.
SOMEWHERE OVER KEL-MORIAN–HELD TERRITORY, ON THE PLANET TURAXIS II
The dropship made a droning sound and threw a dark shadow down to caress the land below as it entered Kel-Morian-controlled airspace. It had been three days since Raynor was released from the stockade and had gone down to meet his friends in Darby. The news that Vanderspool planned to use Heaven’s Devils to steal a load of ardeon crystals and resocialize them should have come as a tremendous shock. But after everything he’d been through, and in light of Vanderspool’s efforts to have remote-controlled lockup switches installed in the unit’s suits, Raynor was anything but surprised.