Betrayal: Starship Renegades, #3 Page 12

  "She would be glad to know you tried," Wren said. "She would have told you it was stupid, but she would have been glad nonetheless."

  "You're talking about her as if she's already dead."

  "She may as well be."

  "No," Atticus said. "No. Just because the Guild commands it, doesn't mean you have to do it. That's been the blind folly of every religion since time began."

  "Yes, but unlike those religions, the Guild really did save me."

  Atticus fell silent. He didn't know Wren's history. She hadn't seemed like the talking type, but it was easy enough to guess. She would have been orphaned young, perhaps even as a baby, and the Guild took her in. They raised her, fed her, trained her. She felt she owed everything to them—the perfect weapon.

  "Please," Atticus said. "There has to be something. Let me buy out the contract, or talk to the Guild. There has to be another way."

  "There is no other way. Once the Guild accepts a contract, it must be done."

  "But—"

  "It was nice of you to try, Tinker, but we're done here."

  "What if—"

  "Goodbye. I hope for your sake that we don't see each other again."

  Nothing tangible happened, no sound of movement, and yet Atticus had the distinct impression of a presence leaving. Perhaps it was a slight change in the air pressure, but either way he was left feeling cold, alone, vulnerable.

  He turned and hurried from the line of the jungle, back to the tree he shared with Ryker, and for the first time scurried up the rope ladder without noticing the strain in his muscles.

  "Well," Ryker said. "That went well."

  "Did you see her?"

  "No, of course not. Otherwise I would have shot her. You obviously had just as much luck."

  "She won't be moved."

  "Bloody stars," Ryker said. "Then Kari is still in danger."

  "There's nothing we can do," Atticus said. He wrapped his arms over his chest and rubbed his chilled shoulders. He'd never felt so useless in all his life. "Wren won't be persuaded and Kari has already gone off on her own. All we can do is wait."

  Ryker slapped his palm on the railing that surrounded the platform. "What a bloody mess."

  Atticus couldn't have agreed more.

  CHAPTER 22

  Wren stepped lightly, avoiding the dry sticks and twigs and placing her boots on the soft leaf-litter. She eased through the trees, following the faint path left by Kari through the undergrowth.

  A lot of deep footprints and snapped twigs marked where Kari had gone. It would have been night when she'd come this way and she'd obviously struggled and fumbled through.

  Wren scowled. She should have noticed that Kari had gone, or at least heard her traipsing through the undergrowth. It was probably Atticus' fault. He'd come out and started talking and distracted her.

  And for what? What had he hoped to achieve?

  He hadn't said anything that Wren didn't already know. But he had no idea of the debt she owed the Guild. She owed them everything. Avoiding the job on Kari wasn't an option. Besides, if she even considered it, the Guild would see her dead.

  No matter what the crazy ex assassin, Hong, said. There was no escaping the Guild. She'd been lucky to stay ahead of them for so long, but her luck wouldn't last much longer. As soon as Wren dealt with Kari, she'd be reporting Hong to the Guild. The chances were that they'd ask Wren to carry out the kill. Wouldn't that be a fine bit of irony?

  Wren kept her ears open for any change to the sounds of the forest. If Kari had decided to lay a trap then she could be hidden behind any of the trees up ahead. But Wren didn't think that was likely. The noise of the birds would be different and the smell of Kari would carry on the wind.

  As it was, the only scents Wren detected were the rotting leaves and somewhere in the distance the sweet smell of fruit. If she'd had the time, she might have detoured to find the fruit and taste the sweet flesh. Her stomach rumbled.

  She'd been living on little more than the few berries she found on the path and nuts harvested from the trees at night. She could have taken some of the flesh from the forest rats that the tribe had killed but she didn't want to risk a fire and eating raw forest meat could be deadly.

  Damn Atticus.

  If Wren had heard Kari go, then she could have followed her through the trees on sound alone and the messy business would be done by now. As it was, she had another interminable hunt through the hot forest. And while Kari's trail was easy enough to follow, Wren knew that as soon as it got light, Kari would start stepping lightly, and she'd be a lot harder to follow on her own than with Ryker and the others at her side.

  Atticus had said that Wren didn't have to kill Kari, but he was wrong. He had to be. And besides, what did it matter if Kari died? Atoms to atoms—that was the Guild rule.

  And yet a tiny worm of uneasiness squirmed in Wren's stomach. Kari had trusted her, or at least respected her. And now?

  Now Kari would probably kill Wren without a second thought.

  Perhaps they weren't so different after all.

  A half hour later, with dawn breaking the horizon, Kari's trail faded, ending at the trunk of a thick tree.

  Wren frowned and inched around to the other side, stepping over the thick roots. Nothing. Not even the faintest trace of a trail led into the forest.

  Wren frowned and crouched, studying each leaf and twig as if they might have the answers. She knew Kari was good, but there was no way she could disappear without leaving a single trace. She wasn't used to moving in trees, she wouldn't know the secrets. So where was she?

  Wren looked up, scanning the canopy in case Kari had used her own trick against her. But the branches here were too high to reach and there were no marks in the bark to suggest that Kari had crawled up.

  Wren circled the tree, her face close to the ground. She stopped at the end of the path and looked back the way she'd come, at the broad corridor that led through the undergrowth, marking the path Kari had taken.

  Wind rustled the leaves and moved some of the branches aside.

  Wren's eyes locked on a twisted twig and she darted forward, leaning in close so that her nose was only inches away.

  The break was wrong.

  Branches and leaves broke in the direction of the person pushing through them, but this one was broken the wrong way, pointing back the way Wren had come.

  She squeezed the broken twig between her fingers, feeling the rough bark and the slight stickiness of the sap that had leaked out of the breakage.

  "Tricky," Wren whispered.

  She let the twig fall, creeping back the way she'd come, slower this time.

  Kari had known that Wren would follow, and she'd known how obvious her path was, and so she'd kept going with her obvious path, but then doubled back. Somewhere along the way she'd forked off, made a second, almost invisible path. But how far back?

  Wren inched forward, scanning every tree and leaf she passed. What if she got all the way back to the village without finding a second path? What did that mean? Had Kari never left at all?

  How much time had Wren wasted in following the wrong tracks?

  How could she have been so stupid? She should know better than to underestimate Kari. Well, this was just another timely reminder. She had to pay more attention, or she'd end up with a plasma blast in the back.

  She'd gone almost a third of the way back to the village before a slight inconsistency in the path made her pause.

  She knelt to the ground and peered through two bushes, into the forest beyond.

  A footprint marked a patch of mud. Kari's boot. Wren would have recognized it anywhere after following it for so long.

  Sneaky. Kari had stepped over the two low bushes so she wouldn't break any twigs, but she'd been unable to stop her boot sinking into the soft mud, or perhaps she hadn't noticed.

  Wren stepped over the bushes as well, but was sure to step on a thick root so that her footprints left no impression. Finally she was on the right track. She tr
ied not to think about the hours she'd wasted up the other path. In a way she had to admire Kari for the ruse. She'd had no idea how far Wren was behind, hell they could have run into each other as Kari doubled back.

  At least then it would have been over.

  In a way, Kari was dragging out the inevitable, like a trapped rabbit straining against the snare. However, unlike the normal chase, Wren took no pleasure in this hunt.

  She just wanted it done.

  CHAPTER 23

  Kari burst out of the last line of trees and drew a deep breath, relishing in the cool breeze, unblocked by forest and damn leaves. The wind carried the smell of the city—fumes and plastic and other sweet aromas that Kari had missed without knowing it. She'd come out of the jungle not far from the city so hurried toward the first line of buildings.

  Her back tingled, imagining Wren aiming a sniper out of the forest, pointed at her head. One shot. Dead before she felt it. Kari hurried faster. Perhaps her little trick in the forest would slow Wren down, but not by much.

  The smell of people and exhaust grew thicker as Kari entered the first city block. Evening crowds bustled along the main streets, getting in last minute shopping. Kari hugged the edges of these streets, hoping the press of people would disguise her trail from Wren but at the same time not wanting to be caught in the flood.

  Despite spending all day and all night trudging through the forest with nothing else to occupy her mind except fear of Wren, Kari still hadn't come up with a plan. She'd gone into the forest with plans of losing the assassin, assuming the woman wouldn't be as deadly in the trees. A mistake. But what now?

  Kari needed a base. If she'd been sure that the whole ship wouldn't explode the moment she set foot on it, she would have gone back to Ghost, the perfect headquarters to plan. But no doubt Wren had riddled the ship with explosives, set to blow the moment Kari stepped inside. Where else?

  She couldn't sleep on the street. That was as good as asking Wren to slit her throat open in her sleep. No, she'd have to hire a place, a safehouse. Then she'd have a degree of security. Hell, she could draw Wren into a firefight, at least then Kari stood a chance of surviving.

  The flow of people led Kari to the shopping district. Most vendors occupied real buildings, which boggled Kari's mind. On Zenith, every building had to be hollowed out of the bedrock, so most sellers used rickety tables pushed to the sides of the tunnel. Not here. The sheer glass windows and thick walls made Kari uneasy. Wren would be able to see her from a hundred yards away, could snipe her without ever setting foot in the shopping district. And where could Kari run to inside one of these shops? Walls on three sides, glass on the fourth. So instead, she sidled up to one of the few market stalls set to the side of the street.

  "Looking for old parts?" the man there said, gesturing to his bench covered with hunks of engines. Atticus would have had a field day.

  "No," Kari said. "I was hoping you could give me some directions."

  The man looked her up and down. Beneath the layers of dirt and filth, heat spread over Kari's cheeks.

  "Is it directions to a shower?"

  "In a way," Kari said, doing her best to control her temper. How long would this two-bit trader survive if he had a Guild assassin chasing him? "I'm looking to rent a safehouse."

  "What makes you think I'd know anything about that?"

  Kari shrugged. "I've found that sometimes people looking for second-hand parts sometimes need a place to lay low for a while."

  His eyes narrowed. "Are you questioning the integrity of my customers?"

  A dull throb started behind Kari's right temple. "No. Look, I thought you might be able to help. I can make it worth your while."

  "Somehow, I'm not sure of that."

  "You've never had a bad day?" Kari snapped.

  He stepped back.

  "Sorry," she said. "Sorry. Like I said, a bad day. I just need somewhere to sleep, maybe get a drink. I've got a Phantom Class-4 parked at the edge of the city. I can't get anything for you right now, but if you give me a few days…"

  "Right," he said. "A Phantom 4." He looked her over once more. "Give me your shoes, and I'll tell you about a safehouse."

  "My shoes?" Kari said.

  "Considering how much mud is on them, I'd say you're getting a good deal. But decent boots are hard to find, and those look like they've still got some wear in them."

  Kari hesitated. She loved her boots, and only a maniac went into a fight without shoes on. What if she had to run over rough gravel? Or break through glass? Or one of a hundred other things? On the other hand, what else could she offer the man for information? A lump formed in Kari's throat as she tugged off her boots and placed them on the ground beside the man's table. Small pebbles dug into the soles of her bare feet that seemed unnaturally clean against her muddy legs.

  "Good," he said. "Al runs a safehouse of sorts. Two streets down and three to the right. Green door."

  "Thank you," Kari said. She set off without another word. People steered well clear. She dreaded to think what she must look like with her bare feet and leaf-matted hair.

  The soles of her feet seemed to find every sharp rock between the market and the safehouse, forcing her to hobble and wince all the way. At this rate, it wouldn't take Wren long to catch up.

  She stopped at the green door and knocked twice. A beefy man with several chins opened it, but as soon as he saw her, he started closing it. "Nope. I don't have anything—"

  "I want to hire your saferoom," Kari said in a rush before the door could slam shut.

  He paused, his round face just visible through the inch-wide opening.

  "You're Al, right? The man in the market said you had a saferoom."

  "Might be I do," he said. "But it costs."

  Kari floundered. She'd already sold the shoes off her feet. Somehow she didn't think her tattered and dirt-stained shirt would fetch even half a token.

  "Exactly," he said, slamming the door closed with a resounding thud.

  Kari glanced over her shoulder. A few people on the street paused to watch the exchange. Didn't they have better things to be doing? "I can trade," she called through the door.

  Al opened the door a crack. "What?"

  Kari yanked open her bag, rummaged inside for something—anything—that might be of any value. A change of clothes, a few berries and nuts, and the explosives Ryker had given her. They'd be worth a fair amount. But what if she needed them?

  "If you just give me a few days—"

  "Do I look like a damn charity? Get out of here, you're scaring real customers."

  "Fine," Kari said. "What about this?" She withdrew a single explosive, leaving herself three more.

  Al's eyebrows shot up. "What are you doing with that?"

  "I thought the point of a safehouse was that people don't ask questions."

  "Depends if it's going to get me killed."

  "It won't," Kari said, hoping it were true. Wren wouldn't kill someone unless they got in the way of her job… probably.

  "That will get you three nights," Al said, opening the door wider. "But after that, you better come up with some real money."

  "Deal," Kari said.

  "Fine, come inside."

  Kari cast one last glance over her shoulder, seeing Wren in every shadow.

  CHAPTER 24

  Kari swilled the stale beer around her mouth before letting the warm liquid slide down her throat. Disgusting. But the best she could afford with the few coins she'd been able to scrounge together by moving crates for Al. She sat at the side of a small bedroom on the second floor of Al's building, away from the direct line of the door.

  The door might look strong enough, but she'd never pretend that it could withstand more than one blast from a large plasma weapon. And it was only a matter of time before Wren tracked her down. So much for all of Kari's grand plans. It ended like this. Cooped up in a tiny room above a dingy pub with the taste of stale beer in her mouth.

  Kari swigged the last of the bottle
and placed it on the floor beside her. She'd spent the last two days wracking her brains for some kind of plan, for some way out, but so far she'd come up with nothing. She'd probably already be dead if she hadn't managed to haggle and beg her way into the safehouse.

  Her thoughts floated back to Piper, Ryker and Atticus. She hoped they were okay. They should be. She'd done everything she could to keep them safe. As long as they weren't with her, then they should be fine. Wren might be a cold-blooded killer, but she wouldn't take the others hostage, not when she knew she could just as easily kill Kari without.

  Kari's stomach rumbled. Her last meal had been a pitiful hunk of cold bread and room-temperature soup. It felt like being back in the middle of the revolution. In fact, the room had the same feel as some of the bunkers she'd had to hide in, except back then she'd had Ryker at her side.

  Her eyes stung and itched and her thoughts moved sluggishly, but she couldn't afford to rest. Not even for a second. Wren would know, and she'd pick that exact moment to break through the door. Kari refused to be executed in her sleep like some animal.

  Still, she couldn't stop her thoughts from drifting into a dazed kind of semi-sleep. Her exhaustion was too deep to stop that. She started awake every few minutes at some imagined sound, but every time, her eyes sprang open onto the same, dim room.

  She'd pulled the curtains shut and rested the large wardrobe against the window so that Wren wouldn't be able to climb through it—not without pushing the wardrobe out of the way first anyway. Kari didn't put that past her, but at least it might give Kari a bit of warning first.

  How the hell had it come to this? Kari was supposed to be enjoying some long-missed time with Piper. Instead she was hunkered inside some room, living on scraps and waiting to die.

  A footstep sounded on the landing outside.

  Kari had been very clear with the landlord. No one was to come to the room except at eight in the morning and six at night. Anything outside of that and Kari would use lethal force.