1.13.2

Decommission and Discharge

Astrid crossed next to grenades. “Obviously, I won’t be testing these.”

“No,” Orion agreed. “I wouldn’t suggest it.”

Finally, onto the pistols, she selected one at time.

“How long can you maintain that production pace?”

“As long as you need. As established as we are, it could be several years before we need to find a new plant or mining source.”

“And we’re well out of the way?” Astrid deftly switched out the first pistol for the second. She could feel her crystal begin to burn against her skin beneath her gear. “No chance of anyone stumbling upon our operations?”

“We’re professionals, Miss. From what I understand, one of your own agents has already arrived to liaison.”

The second pistol returned to its stand, deadened within. The third, Astrid kept.

“This one. I’ll be taking it with me. I like it.”

“Of course.”

At the end of the room, Astrid rotated. The stock of ordinance, now mostly decommissioned, still glimmered in the light. An artful sight with terrible implications. Dread seeped into her stomach, and a need to return to the safety of the ship to confer with her captain wrestled her need to appear collected.

“So,” Orion stepped to her. “Your order?”

“We’re only here as representatives. To make sure you’re not jerking us around,” Astrid diverted. She tucked the final pistol back into its case. “You’ve more than delivered. My associates will come secure the rest shortly. They’ll tell you what we need.”

Orion drew closer. “That is not the impression given unto Mister Benson.”

“Mister Benson has a reputation that protects him. We do not. Yet. Until we are ready to make our move, we need discretion and secrecy. Both of which, you will be compensated for. As you mentioned earlier, we have esteemed and influential allies. I’m sure you and your Mister Benson would prefer signing the final deal with them.

“I’m just the scout, here. But trust me,” she reached for charm, “this went very well. My partner outside will deposit payment for this.”

Astrid indicated the vessel clutched in her fingers. She knew her knuckles to be white underneath the thinly plated gloves she wore.

Orion watched her every move when she made for the door. She halted at the exit and adopted her best haughty expression as she waited for him to join her. “Well?”

The man moved slow, scanned the room with his own eyes once more, but followed her back out into the hall. He doused the lights, sealed the door, and guided her back to the private room where Rue and Benson traded their own dance of hidden motives.

When Astrid came into the room, Rue regarded her from a slouched position on the sofa. It only took one wild pass of the eyes for her to pick up on what Astrid carried.

“Pay the man. Our business shall move forward.” Astrid nodded, businesslike to Benson, who quirked a brow at her hurried pace.

The man stood and aligned his fine jacket at its center buttons. “I trust everything is to your liking?”

“Astoundingly so, Mister Benson. The S.O. thanks you for your prudence in this matter, and we look forward to our mutually profitable future.”

Getting the hint, Rue rose and gave Benson a firm shake. “We’ll be in touch.”

“Please, do.”

Astrid knew better than to flee, but it was all she could do to keep her stride a steady pace as she headed Rue back out of the club, eager for distance from Orion’s wary gaze.

She kept her eyes locked straight ahead, ignored the patrons and dancers outside, and Rue met her every step.

“Get us out of here,” Astrid whispered once they were safely enveloped into the flock.

Rue didn’t press, and Astrid was unsurprised. The last thing they needed was to draw attention or discuss their discoveries in public.

Neither of them wished to garner interest, especially in the container they now toted.

When they trekked back into familiar territory, closer to the ship, Astrid marched faster. No longer a tourist, but an agent tight with nerves.

Busy halls gave way to low-traffic footways as they neared their specific dock.

They rounded a corner, their destination set, and collided with four men in shadow gear.

“I’m sorry,” Astrid apologized for her mistake and angled around them. But a forceful arm blocked her path.

“You’re going to be.”

Rue bristled and she scanned the squad before them.

“Out of our way. Find someone else to flex to.”

“You got something to say, pup?” One of the other men loomed over the blonde woman. “I suggest you be a good little bitch.”

Astrid tensed.

“Rue, get out of there,” Dell’s voice warned.

Astrid kept her eyes fixed on the menace now directly in her path.

“No, I want to hear this.” Rue pressed herself into the same space as the men. “Say it again.”

The man sported a smile masquerading as a grimace. “I said, ‘be a good little bitch’.”

Rue huffed a dry laugh. “A dog metaphor. Good one.”

Abruptly, Rue slammed her forehead savagely into the goon’s face. The height difference made sure she hit his mouth.

Blood and spit flew when the man staggered back. The rest leapt on reflex, and the trooper fought off three as they each scrambled to secure her arms.

“You forgot alpha rules, bitch!” Rue taunted. She kicked and scrabbled to keep the others off her.

“Shit. We’re coming!”

Astrid moved to help Rue, but the man in her face shoved her back against the wall with a snarl.

“Who are you, girlie? Posing as one of us?”

Astrid’s eyes widened, and in her struggle, light caught the emblem of three interlocked cogs etched into his ebony collar.

“It’s them!” she stated loudly for the comm.

Behind the man, Rue grunted as, outnumbered, the S.O. thugs landed unhindered hits while her arms flailed for freedom.

Improvising, Astrid used the gun case to bash against her own opponent’s head.

He swore, rubbed above his eye socket, then with a roar, lunged for her.

She dodged and spun under, but one of the three on Rue tore away to help his comrade get her back under control.

With her renewed liberty, Rue eagerly took on her pair, as if she itched for a good scuffle. Her muscled body lit in delight to be used so.

The soldier stomped a thigh, slammed her fist into a nose, and heaved a second body over her back when one of the men dove for her. She ducked to use his momentum against him, and he landed on the unyielding steel of the floor behind her.

One of Astrid’s combatants clocked her good, and she twirled back toward the first, her ears ringing. She barely retained the iron grip she held on their prize.

She felt herself hauled backward against a hard body. An arm lashed over her chest and a gauntleted hand at her throat reared her head back.

An angry voice hissed against her ear. “Tell us who you are!”

Astrid watched Rue take another strike, then another, as once Astrid was restrained, the remaining men returned to overwhelm the brawler three to one.

“Tell us, or we kill your friend, and take you with us to find out the slow way.”

Rue’s fierce body still struck and punted at anyone that got close. It took two to hold her before one could get in a good strike.

“If you don’t let me go, you won’t live long enough to find out,” Astrid spat back.

Something new burned in her stomach. Something that overcame her fear, as Rue emitted pained grunts through their relentless assault.

Astrid’s training ached to kick in, to bury the emotion and command calm. But she remembered Dell and Tenya’s advice, and instead, submitted to the fury of being victimized.

Heat flared in her core.

“You’re brave for a little sparrow.” A cold barrel pressed against Astrid’s head. “Now tell us. We only need one of you. Give me a reason to not make this easier on ourselves.”

“You want to know who I am?”

Memories of the Sanctuary, and what threat a “Static Opposition” posed to those harbored within, stoked the flames in her gut.

Astrid dropped the case and kicked it away. She twisted under her attacker’s arm to aim his gun away from the others, then jammed his wrist downward over her raised knee. When his pistol clattered to the ground, she toed it away as well.

She chopped a strike into the inside of his elbow to fold his arm, then smashed his groping fist backward into his face with a brutal shove.

The flat of her hand descended into his neck, above the armor, as her practice with Romo taught her.

“Goddamn it, bitch!”

Astrid booted one of the men off Rue to even the odds, then rounded on her own two once more.

“Fine.” The man reached for his teammate’s gun and leveled the muzzle to where Rue fought ferociously. “Last chance.”

“Please. Don’t make me stop you!”

The man grinned cruelly. “Wrong answer.”

His arm moved to aim between tussling bodies, at Rue. For a moment, the Channeler could feel his hand prepare to squeeze.

“No!”

Power flared through Astrid’s body.

She reached to stop him, and instead, arcs of pale white and blue flashed from her palms and fingertips in a cone burst.

The man flew back at the force and crashed into the wall, knocked cold.

The others, dazed, turned on instinct, and Rue sprang at the opportunity.

Energy shocks snapped chaotically from Astrid’s fingertips each time she moved to shove the assailants away from herself and her crewmate.

“Son of a bitch!” Rue shouted as she, too, lunged away from the unfocused discharge.

Astrid body threatened to split in two from the energy. She’d never felt anything like it. Her crystal singed against her chest and her core heaved with invisible muscle spasms.

By the time Astrid’s own surprise quelled the burst of emotion behind her power, the men that attacked them lay either slumped, shaking, or unconscious completely.

“You’re one of them!” One accused from trembling lips as he curled on the ground, contorted in his armor.

Rue turned to her as well, equal rage and alarm in her own manic expression.

“What the hell did you do!?” she shouted.

“I… I don’t know…” Astrid bent to reclaim the weapon case, but upon rising again, her world spun, and her vision dimmed. “I don’t…”

Her knees gave, and she collapsed into a pile like the rest.