The Boundary Zone Page 4

  “Liar.” Mack took a long draught and wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve. “The only reason you liked us was because you got to ignore us when it suited you.”

  With a sly grin, Gunk moved off to tend to the other patrons and Mackenzie went back to staring at her wavering reflection in the black liquid.

  One screwed up job? Check.

  One near death experience? Check.

  One remarkably lovely moment in Cable’s arms….

  Aaron would have laughed himself sick.

  He would have been unbearable.

  Slamming the rest of the dark liquid in her glass, she tapped it on the bar top for Gunk to bring her another.

  The swivel-stool next to her squawked and a dark spot shifted in her periphery as the uniformed officer occupied it.

  Flowery decay.

  Grimacing she stared at the remaining suds in her glass. If her evening was heading anywhere near Lieutenant big Hair….

  “I thought you were ordered to help with damage control.” She said without looking at him.

  He leaned forward on the counter, dipping his head down to look at her face--to force her to look at his. “I got different orders.”

  “So you’re here, harassing me?” She took the new beer Gunk brought and shook her head when the bartender waved her hand, the subtle movement an offer.

  “I’m off duty and wanted to buy you a drink.” He flashed a smile, and she fought the urge to recoil as he straightened and leaned in closer. “It’s your last night on station. All your friends are gone.... I thought you’d enjoy some company.”

  She knew Bezzon well enough that a simple ‘get lost’ wouldn’t phase him, but she might be able to scare him off by draining his credit account.

  She called out for Gunk. “Two shots of the Micklefords, please? On his tab.” She jerked her thumb at him.

  Gunk sent her a questioning glance, but pulled the bottle down from its lock box high above the rest of the booze.

  The liquid that filled their glasses was the same dusty brown as the bottle.

  Spicy, with a smoky flavor, it went down with a bite.

  Bezzon’s normally dull brown eyes already had the Micklefords glitter. He watched her as she turned the glass upside-down on the bar.

  When she raised a brow in question, he broke out in a wide grin. “Another for my friend and me!”

  Further proof, Bezzon didn’t know a thing about drinking.

  Micklefords was a shot you only drank one of. Even if it hadn’t cost as much as her habcube’s rent for a month, more than one shot would lay her on her ass quicker than someone turning up the station’s gravity generators.

  Gunk glanced between them and reached for her glass, but Mack shook her head. “I don’t want to explain to Cable why I didn’t make my ship-out time tomorrow.”

  His smile wobbled for a moment before he nodded.

  “Another beer then,” he said, turning to Gunk with an oily leer. “I’ll have whatever she’s having.”

  “Why are you here, Lieutenant?” Mack asked when the glasses were set in front of them.

  “It’s Darius.” He nodded to Gunk and toasted her as she turned away.

  “Darius Bezzon, only call me Lieutenant if you’re feeling frisky.”

  Gunk snorted from the far end of the bar.

  Mack didn’t bother to try hiding her laugh as Bezzon shot the woman a glare.

  “Ditch the attitude and that Goddess-awful skunk juice you call cologne, maybe run a comb through that rats nest and then vent yourself. After that, we’ll talk about me feeling frisky.” She turned her attention back to Gunk, but added, “For now, get a life and get out of mine. Like you said, it’s my last night on station. I’ll spend it with people who don’t make me gag.”

  He turned to face her and set his hand on his shoulder like they were good friends.

  Before he could get a word in, she said, “Take your hand off me, or I will remove it from your arm.”

  Her words were slow, charged, If he didn’t get the message, it wasn’t her fault.

  He pulled away, holding his hands up and away as though she had a gun to his chest. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! I’m trying to be nice. You don’t have to be a bitch.”

  “I don’t want you to be nice. I want you to go away and never touch me again.”

  He settled back on his stool with a smarmy grin. “The universe doesn’t usually give us what we want.”

  Prickles erupted over her skin.

  “My brother used to say that.”

  “I know.” He turned back to the bar, eyes on his beer as he spoke. “You seem to forget, I knew Aaron Flack too. I knew what kind of person he was when he didn’t have to play protective big brother. You wouldn’t idolize him the way you do if you’d seen that Aaron.”

  Kenzie stared at him. Surprised she hadn’t shattered the glass clenched in her hand. “Walk away while you still have a chance.”

  He turned to her, eyes hard. “There are a dozen men or more on Commander Carr’s ship who are glad he’s dead. Think he was a bastard and you’re just a who--”

  Mackenzie threw her beer in Bezzon’s face, flexing her leg muscles to keep herself on her stool even though all she wanted to do was knock the man to the ground and show him another thing Aaron had taught her.

  “Leave now.” Gunk’s voice echoed through the now silent bar as Mack’s heartbeat throbbed in her ears.

  “Never said I was one of them, Kenzie.” Bezzon wiped a napkin down his face and tossed it to the side. He slid his shot glass down the bar to were Gunk stood, glaring.

  “Don’t call me that,” she said it as quietly as she could. It was that, or she’d scream it.

  Gunk took an old, flat bat down from its place on the wall. “I don’t care what rank is sewn on your shoulder, you’re just as much a civilian when you’re off duty. Get out of my bar, or I will call the Commander and see how many nights you spend in the brig.

  Bezzon rolled his eyes and took another drink of his beer. “Lady, you don’t have that authority.”

  “You don’t know who I am?” Gunk’s mouth quirked into a cruel smile as she stepped out from behind the bar. Her cybernetic leg whirred with each step. “My name is Leticia Gunkrite, Retired Admiral, Third Fleet. I’ve got more medals in a shoebox under my bunk than you could ever hope to earn. And it’ll be a cold day in every festering Hell this system believes in before I let someone like you disrespect a fallen soldier in my bar. Now, get out, or I will see you stripped down to ensign and stuck on an icy back world’s recon station recounting the rings of Saturn Five until your eyes bleed out of their sockets.

  Bezzon swallowed, eyes glued on the woman’s leg. If it was possible, his hair had deflated.

  He left and the hush that had fallen over the bar slowly worked its way back to a mid-level din. Gunk patted Mackenzie on the arm before making her way back around the bar and refilling her glass.

  Shaking her head as she moved to clean the bar top where Bezzon had splashed, Gunk said, “They’ve started breeding stupid to get soldiers… it’s not a sound strategy.”

  “There are a few good ones left, shouldn’t burn down the tree because it’s got one bad apple.”

  “Do you know, I can’t remember the last time I had to tell someone who I am….”

  Mack drained half of her beer in one go and turned a smile on Gunk. “I know Aaron made enemies… he’s just as bad as I am when it comes to pissing people off, but he hasn’t been gone long enough to dull that sting.”

  Gunk set a new beer on the top in front of her. “Bezzon never closed out that credit tab. Might as well drink on him until he realizes he’s buying you more than he bargained for.” She pulled the glass back, out of Kenzie’s reach, “Police yourself. There’s no point in having a hangover when you’re going to hop on a sledge with faulty turbulence buffers.”

  “Cable taught me how to drink. Hangovers aren’t something I’m afraid of.” She tipped back the rest of the previous beer and
set it down with a sheepish grin.

  The hull scrubbers down in the docs had managed to revive a suitably fitting phrase for what Mackenzie planned to do that night. They would undoubtedly toast her if they knew she was Hell bent on spending her last night on Celesta getting plastered.

  She let the beer sit while she fished her hair tie from her pocket and swept her hair to the side, braiding it on auto-pilot as her thoughts drifted away from her.

  Six

  When Cable got to Ops, he went immediately to Stacy’s console. “Report?”

  Kate Stacy speared him with a glare that could have meant a dozen things. “Minor damage to the structure as far as we can tell. Our demo crews can bolt anything we need together until we pull the whole thing apart. I’ve got a crew scheduled for a station walk to get a better idea of exactly what we’ve got going on.”

  She glanced at the screen on her left. Flickering vidfeed of the incident showed two ships, both of them slashed over with blue and peach paint.

  “Clearly Maeltar’s people. Bezzon suggested they’re trying to take you out.”

  Cable spared her a smile. “If they were trying to kill me, they almost succeeded.”

  He glanced around ops, but a puff of big hair was missing. “Where is Bezzon?”

  She pointed over her shoulder without looking at the crew locator board. “The bar. I took him off shift. He’d been on duty for eighteen hours… pulling a double.”

  “How is the hero of the hour?”

  “Kenzie’s fine.”

  The two women rarely had occasion to interact, except when Kenzie could convince her to go out drinking. Then she got her kicks by convincing Kate to try out her best pick-up lines.

  An ensign hurried up to them, shifting as she looked between them.

  “Commander,” she said. “Admiral Buchanan is on the comm.”

  Stacy smiled down at the screen she was still tabbing through. “Did she look upset when you told her Carr was alive?”

  “Ma’am?” The ensign’s eyes darted between them. “She didn’t ask one way or the other. I don’t believe she was aware of the danger.”

  It was more likely that whatever informant Admiral Buchanan had on station had immediately sent word of the situation.

  “Patch it through to my office.”

  Cable left the busy Ops deck and let out a long sigh as the doors brushed closed behind him. The quiet wouldn’t last long.

  He sat at his desk, and drummed his fingers on the surface, waiting for the comm to come through the spotty connection. He’d be lucky if he got through this conversation without grinding his teeth to dust.

  The screen blinked on and Cable was treated to the sight of Admiral Buchanan filing her nails.

  “Whitney,” she said sternly as she leaned back in her chair, file slipping out of view.

  “Good evening, Admiral.” When she said nothing, he continued. “I assume you’re calling about the bumpy ride our residents got a little while ago.”

  “I am. Everything about this farce of an assignment has me looking for the idiot who let you shirk your real responsibilities.” The admiral glowered at something out of sight.

  “The attack on the station was an… unusual event.” It was almost true.

  Eyes narrowed, she straightened. “An hour ago, a transmit came through central control from the Boundary Zone. It claimed responsibility for the attack on your piece of space debris. Would it surprise you to know they knew you were there? That you were their target?”

  Cable nodded, hoping to get this over with as quickly as possible. “If Maeltar’s back, she might have thought this was an easy opportunity to take me out.”

  “It wasn’t Maeltar.”

  Cable saw the glitter of excitement a moment before the admiral schooled her face into something ugly. If Maeltar wasn’t behind the attack--and the queen of the Boundary Zone’s most prolific syndicate was the only one he could think of--the person claiming the attack was something new.

  Boudicca Buchanan XII loved holding information over her colleagues’ heads. She’d keep whatever she could for as long as she could, and damn the consequences.

  Cable didn’t have time to play games. “Who else operates out of the Boundary Zone?”

  “A guy who calls himself KaRapp… at least we’re pretty sure he’s a he. We can’t get a clean look at his face. But surely you recognize the title. Ka.” Her smile was malicious. “Think back. Thirty second century. The void conflicts. Other side of the Boundary Zone. Back before their planets were turned to rubble.”

  KaRapp.

  Cable shouldn’t have known the name. It shouldn’t have sent ice through his veins.

  He shouldn’t need an extra moment to think up the lie he never thought he’d need to tell.

  Clearing his throat, he looked at the admiral and shrugged. “I know my history, Admiral. The Ka are dead. It’s probably some drifter using the myths to scare. Did he say what he wanted?”

  “Yes. But we’re not on a secure line.. You’re off sabbatical. Your comms officer sent me the station security feed from the blow-outs in sectors eleven and twelve. You’re back to thinking on your feet and I need you to deal with this new mess. It’s yours after all.”

  “I was told I’d have a full year to…deal with things.”

  Buchanan knew what those things were, and Cable was just as sure she didn’t give a damn.

  “You want another six months. I’d like to retire with a new husband.” She scowled. “Sadly, I’ve got another decade sitting in this chair and the current ball and chain is in the peak of health. You’ll get yours when I get mine.”

  She laughed at whatever part of that she thought was funny. “The Dendratic is coming in to pick you up in ten hours. Be ready to board. I assume your second will be able to handle something as simple as a station decommission. You were there to rest, to deal with the regrettable circumstances surrounding that nasty business.” She grimaced and looked as though she might have spat if given the proper receptacle.

  When she looked back at the screen, she’d sobered and leaned back in her chair as though defeated by the direction of their conversation had almost taken. “You and your team will head for the Zone. Full briefing will be available to you once you’re on the Dendratic.”

  “Is there anything else, sir?” Cable could only imagine why they were basing him on the Dendratic. Mersen’s ship was eighty percent medical personnel.

  “The tech who managed to get the blast doors shut. She saved your life.”

  Cable heard the question in the admiral’s voice and chose not to ignore her dismissal of the other lives in that stairwell. “She saved the rest of the security team as well.”

  Buchanan smiled as she leaned toward the screen. “Take her with you.”

  Cable couldn’t breathe.

  Couldn’t move.

  All he could do was replay the betrayal in Aaron’s eyes the last time he’d seen his best friend. But this time, it was Kenzie. This time…

  He snapped back to attention as the admiral tried to dismiss him. “With all due respect, she’s not military. She’ll get in the way.”

  Buchanan’s face darkened at his words. “She’s been drafted. So she’s military now. You worked well together, and if the reports I’m reading are correct… you’ll need someone with her skills.”

  Kenzie could make anything electrical do her bidding. It was almost like she was magic. Aaron had been the same way--though he’d thought himself better at it.

  It was the only reason she was still on station. She’d made enough people’s lives easier that no one cared she was a civilian contractor.

  And she worked well because she didn’t have the restrictions….

  “That is a bad idea,” Cable said. “She’s Aaron Flack’s younger sister.”

  The admiral’s face shifted, softened and the older woman paused a moment. She leaned back in her chair and stared at him pensively. “I know. She’s good at what she does?”


  “The best I’ve worked with.” He admitted it even though he knew he shouldn’t.

  Saying she was better than Aaron was foolish, but he wasn’t going to lie about the only thing Kenzie had ever accepted praise for.

  “ There’s no room for appeal here, Whitney. KaRapp is out for blood… and he’s asked for yours specifically. Your next report will come from the Dendratic. Don’t keep Mersen waiting.”

  “Understood.”

  Cable didn’t have to like orders to follow them.

  The screen froze and faded to darkness.

  Kenzie was the antithesis of a fleet soldier, and now he was going to force her to suit up and play soldier. And then there was the fact that her reception on the ship--not even talking about his team--was going to be hell.

  No one held a grudge quite like a fleet soldier.

  If he had a way to get her off station, away in time…. He’d just make her a deserter.

  There were no good options.

  His door chimed a request for entry and he slapped the square on his screen without bothering to look at the ident tag.

  Stacy walked in, arms crossed over her chest and an accusing glare pinned on him. “When were you going to tell me you’re leaving?”

  “I only found out it ten minutes ago.”

  She sat in the chair in front of him, heavily for a woman who looked twelve unless she was staring you down. The first time he’d met her--when he took over command--Bezzon had joked they’d been saddled with a child who’d only cause him problems. He’d made the mistake of doing it in her hearing, and Cable had thoroughly enjoyed watching her give the lieutenant a dressing down. The fact she solved problems he never would have imagined could pop up… that was an added bonus.

  If he could take her with him, he would.

  “So, one little attack and you’re going to leave me to clean up the mess?” She shook her head, letting the light blonde wisps of hair framing her face flail about. “I should have taken Mack’s advice, but no. I let myself get comfortable. Let myself think you might stick around for the long haul. She said you’d be gone before it was over.”

  “Kenzie knows me better than anyone else in the universe.” He pinched the bridge of his nose he needed coffee. And sleep. Not in that order.