Chasing Mayhem (17 page)

The guard, unlike his brave, strong Imee, had clearly never been attacked.

Mayhem extracted a dagger from one of his sheaths, crept behind him, reached around the male and sliced his throat. His blade cut through the human’s flesh to his spine. Blood spurted. Arcs of the hot crimson coated the viewscreen, splattered on the floor, pooled around the human’s boots.

The kill was quick and easy, offering not much of a challenge.

Controlling his female would be a greater test of his skills. She entered the space, not waiting for his instructions or for any indication from him that it was safe.

Mayhem frowned at her, communicating his disapproval of her actions.

Imee stuck out her chin.

She was one of the most stubborn beings he knew and that was saying something. His brethren were cyborgs. Many of them were set in their programming.

Mayhem cleaned his blade, wiping the blood on the male’s uniform, and put it back in the sheath. He scanned the corridors. Traffic was sparse. There would be minimal casualties.

That was disappointing. He liked killing.

But it was less dangerous. Every kill, every dead body increased the possibility some being would sound an alarm.

Or that the being would damage his female.

He opened the second door, dashed to an alcove, looked to the left and to the right. The corridor was empty. He motioned to Imee, silently asking her to come to him.

His female hustled toward him, her daggers drawn, her expression earnest, her breasts jiggling. His heart pounded. She was exposed, in the open. If warriors entered the space, they’d spot her, could easily damage her.

She neared him. He reached out, pulled her to safety, covering her lush form with his larger body, shielding her from any danger. Her breathing was ragged, noisy. Her breasts heaved against his back. Her scent coiled around him.

They progressed to the next alcove and the next after that, turned right into another corridor, ducked into the doorway to a chamber. Mayhem moved to the next alcove, scanned their surroundings.

Fraggin’ hole. Two beings were approaching them.

He held out his right palm, communicating to her to stay where she was. She nodded and backed into the shadows.

He heard her inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. Tension stretched across his shoulders. If he could detect her breathing, others might also.

Boots clomped against the metal floor, the sound growing louder and louder.

His female was too far from him, unprotected, so fraggin’ human.

If he moved to her side, it might draw attention to her. If he stayed where he was and the approaching beings pulled their guns, he might not be fast enough to save her.

Mayhem waited.

“If we fuck up this quarter end, heads are going to roll.” The male’s words echoed in the narrow space. “That verifier at home planet is gunning for the Commander, made him look like an ass cleanser in front of his buddies.”

“Because we didn’t file our Q-9 slips,” another male grumbled. “Who in space bothers filing those?”

“We do. Now. Thanks to that verifier.” The first male’s voice became more audible with each step. “I have sixty-nine to file by the end of shift.”

“They have me verifying approvals. I want to poke my eyes out with a broken viewscreen.”

Mayhem placed his hands on his dagger hilts, prepared to kill them if they turned their heads or slowed or indicated in any way that they saw him.

They didn’t, their pace not altering, their complaining about quarter end continuing. They carried rectangular containers in their arms. The weapons in their holsters were older models yet didn’t appear as though they’d ever been utilized.

That didn’t reassure Mayhem. They might not be seasoned warriors but even untrained offspring could get ‘lucky’, somehow spot Imee, shoot her.

They certainly weren’t innocent beings. No one on the station was. They supported the Humanoid Alliance, supported their wars, their torture, their cruelty.

If Imee’s family were on board, these beings would know about that also. The station was too small for secrets to be kept.

The males would kill to defend those captives and to defend themselves.

They neared Imee’s location. Cold crept down Mayhem’s spine. The enemy was an arm’s length away from his female. They had guns. There were two of them.

He heard Imee’s breathing quicken, her fear clawing at him.

The two males walked by her, appearing oblivious to her presence.

They had passed but the danger hadn’t diminished, not yet. They could turn around, sound an alarm, kill her.

The males chattered. Their voices faded. They disappeared from view.

Imee stuck her head out of the alcove. Mayhem lifted his right thumb, index finger, middle finger, counting slowly, signaling that she should wait.

She watched his hands, her brown eyes wide. Beads of sweat glistened on her forehead.

When it was clear, he motioned to her. She ran toward him, her breast and ass coverings sticking to her curves. His female was beautiful and brave, a worthy mate for a cyborg.

Mayhem drew her into his arms, wrapped his form around hers, holding her to him. She was the most precious thing in the galaxy to him, the keeper of his soul, a reason to be cautious. He would protect her.

Mayhem pressed his lips to her forehead, tasting the salt of her skin, trying to silently communicate his love, the words she wasn’t yet ready to hear.

Imee tolerated his caresses for one, two human heartbeats. Then she waved her hands toward the corridor.

His shoulders shook, his mirth, a mixture of relief and happiness, trapped inside him. His female, a true warrior, was impatient, wanting action.

He moved to the next alcove, waited for Imee to rejoin him, moved again. Another male approached them. Mayhem detected him before they were separated. He backed into the alcove, putting his body protectively between the humanoid and his female.

Imee pushed against his shoulders. Mayhem didn’t free her.

A blue-furred Ungarian male hurried by them, mumbling about workloads and missing nourishment breaks.

Mayhem had never been involved in a quarter end. It appeared to cause emotional damage to the beings on board the station. It also required all of their processing power.

That was fortunate for their mission. The enemy was distracted and would be unlikely to notice their presence or take action.

He waited until the humanoid was a safe distance away and released Imee. She glared at him. He smiled back at her. His female would have to become accustomed to being protected. He wouldn’t allow any being to damage her.

They progressed toward the holding chambers.

An aging humanoid leaned against the wall by the entrance.

At first perusal, he might have appeared to be low threat, a guard one would assign to unimportant chambers. His face was lined with wrinkles. His hair was gray.

But his back was straight and he held his long gun with the confidence of a warrior. The long gun was worn from use, the handle smooth.

The humanoid perused the corridors around him with a wariness originating from solar cycles of battles. He had experience, didn’t assume any terrain was safe.

Whatever he was guarding was critical to the Humanoid Alliance’s success.

The dread pressing down on Mayhem’s heart lightened. Imee’s family
could
be alive. They could be inside the large central chamber.

He would help reconcile his female with her mom, sister, brother, and she’d be grateful for that assistance. She might allow him to say the love words, might say them back to him.

First, he had to kill the grizzled old warrior standing between his Imee and her family. Mayhem gripped a dagger in his right hand and flew toward the guard.

The humanoid must have sensed his approach. He glanced toward him, lifted his long gun. His finger lowered over the trigger.

Mayhem reached him before he could shoot the long gun. His right arm arched. His blade slashed through the guard’s throat.

The weapon fell. Mayhem caught it before it clattered to the floor and returned it to his adversary, pointing the muzzle at the far wall, curling the male’s twitching fingers around the barrel.

As a warrior, he would want to die with a weapon in his hands. He’d award that same honor to his enemy. 

The humanoid male wasn’t conscious of any honor. He sank sightlessly downward, leaving a trail of red blood on the gray wall. His booted feet kicked as the last sparks of life left him.

He’d ended one guard’s lifespan here and another guard’s lifespan at the docking bay. Mayhem’s kill rate wouldn’t increase much with this mission.

His gaze slid to his female.

Frustration twisted her lips. Her kill rate hadn’t increased at all.

And it wouldn’t increase, if he had his way. If she could kill a target, that target could kill her.

He positioned himself at the side of the doors, motioned to her to move behind him. She silently fumed yet she obeyed him. That compliance pleased Mayhem.

He placed his left palm on the control panel. The doors slid open.

“Brox, you know you can’t--” A young yellow feathered humanoid turned around, saw him and stopped talking. He reached for his guns.

Daggers whizzed over Mayhem’s shoulders. One dagger lodged in the humanoid’s throat, a finger’s-width left of the larynx. The other blade stabbed the wall beside the male’s head, piercing the panel, the twang alarmingly loud.

The humanoid opened his mouth.

Mayhem flung himself at his opponent, covered his lips with one of his palms and yanked on the dagger’s hilt with his other hand, cutting deeper, raggedly. The male struggled. He tightened his hold, the humanoid’s jawbone crunching under his grip.

It was an ugly kill.

Mayhem released the male, allowing the corpse to slump on the floor. “You’re to stay behind me, my female.” He cleaned the spittle off his hands, the blood off her blade.

“I stayed behind you.” Her feet were braced apart, her stance adorably defiant.

He wanted to kiss her senseless.

His female was a warrior. She was trained for battle, loved the hunt. He yearned to protect Imee but loving her meant putting her wants first. She needed to take action.

To stop her from fighting would be infringing on her freedom, imprisoning her as he was once imprisoned, forcing her to operate by rules that weren’t her own.

Fraggin’ hole. He couldn’t do that to her. This mission was personal to her. The beings held her loved ones, had damaged at least one of them, cutting off her sister’s finger.

If a being cut off Imee’s finger, he’d want revenge.

He had to control his concern.

She deserved to fight, even if that meant putting her lifespan at risk.

His task was to minimize that risk, ensure others didn’t damage her as she fought, make certain she survived her battles.

That would be easier to do if she had different weapons.

“The walls are thick, dampening the sound.” He tossed her a gun he’d calibrated for both of them to use. She caught it one-handed, his female skilled. “Use a gun next time.”

“That will be quicker.” Her eyes gleamed.

The fight excited her as it did him. Mayhem glanced toward the next set of doors. “A guard will be positioned inside the holding chambers.”

“You can have him,” she generously offered. “I got the last one.”

He removed the dagger from the wall, slid the two blades into her sheaths, re-arming his tiny female. “We both got the last one.” He held onto their hilts, not allowing her to retreat. “Don’t take unnecessary risks, my female.”

“What is the fun in that?” She laughed, using his words to tease him.

He grinned, turned, blocking his female from any attack, and opened the doors.

A thickset male seated in front of a horizontal support frowned at him. “Who the fuck are--”

Imee shot him in the forehead, blasting skull and brain matter onto the wall behind him. The male and his chair toppled backward, the clatter making Mayhem wince.

“What happened to ‘you can have him’?” He shook his head, his lips twitching with mirth.

“You were too slow.” Her happiness fed his, expanding his joy.

He would never be bored around his female. She would keep him guessing, challenge him as she challenged herself.

“After this mission is over, we’ll mock fight and I’ll show you which one of us is too slow.” Mayhem kept his senses tuned for any approaching beings. Even a human would have heard the noise they’d made.

No one responded. The holding chambers were deathly still.

“That being won’t be me.” His female eyed the humanoid she’d killed. “You’d think they’d be more cautious, place more guards at the entrance.” She glanced up at him. “It feels like a trap.”

It did feel wrong. “When Retrievers tried in the past--”

“None of them got this far,” his female explained. “They didn’t access the administrative station. The tracking device gave away some of the early attempts. Those Retrievers were killed, their deaths recorded as a warning to the rest of us.” Her expression turned grim. “A couple of the Retrievers cut off their arms. That rid them of the tracking devices but they didn’t have access codes.”

Not being cyborgs, they would have had challenges accessing the station’s systems. “The Humanoid Alliance is arrogant.” That was one of their biggest weaknesses, underestimating his cyborg brethren, the rebels, his female. “They might have believed no being could access the station and that the extra guards were unnecessary.”

“They might.” Her expressive face reflected his doubt. “Even one guard would deter beings from escaping. My family is unskilled. They’d also be unarmed.”

Mayhem doubted being unskilled and unarmed would stop his fearless female from doing anything.

“They must be here.” Imee looked around them. “My family is their only leverage against me, against the other Retrievers. They would keep them in the center of the chambers.”

“That’s logical.” Mayhem expanded his scan of the area, detected beings—three of them, all human, positioned far apart from each other.

Were those beings her mom, sister, brother? Was her family the only beings held on this station?