Depraved by Trent Evans

Chapter 36

“Vehicle. Identify yourself or be fired upon.”

The message came through loud and clear over the rover’s internal speakers as soon as they rolled past the outer perimeter’s sensor array.

Jon was impressed that the rebel base had managed to find and patch into his rover’s frequency all the way out there. They were still more than four kilometers from Gamma.

“Is their fire effective this far out?” Jon turned his head toward Anson, where he was stuffed behind Yulia in the passenger seat.

Anson nodded grimly. “Count on it. We’ll be in trouble, real quick, if they don’t go for this.”

Jon switched the frequency to match that of the incoming message. “Jon Rexall, transporting a VIP passenger. Beckett will clear me.”

They rolled slowly forward down the trail meant for a vehicle half the size of the rover, Jon picking his way around trees, and over fallen logs when he had to.

“I can’t believe I agreed to do this shit again,” Tom said, miserable, over the squad comm, from his spot crammed into the cargo hold.

“We get out of this in one piece, Tom, and I’ll buy you a steak dinner,” Anson said.

“Throw in a big-titted hooker for dessert, and you got yourself a deal, Cap.”

Anson laughed at that, rare levity from the taciturn captain.

Lyssa made an exasperated noise behind his seat. “Asshole.”

Even Yulia cracked a tiny smile.

It didn’t come close to dispelling the tension they were all feeling, but it helped.

“You’re sure about this thing’s spoofing abilities?” Anson murmured it, despite the fact it was completely unnecessary. Even the steely captain was feeling the stress of the moment.

“Unless the rebels are using a sensor array far better than TSS versions, absolutely,” Jon patted the dash. “As soon as I switch it on, the EM will be humming. We won’t be able to receive anything, or transmit anything, but that’s okay. Essentially, it turns the rover into a rolling Faraday cage.”

“So, they won’t be able to pinpoint how many of us are in here?”

“Nope. Their screens will show just a huge white blob. No detail at all.”

Lyssa’s tone was more than a little dubious. “Don’t you think they’ll put two and two together, and wonder why we’re spoofing them on the way in?”

Jon shrugged. “Have to take the chance that they won’t. We have to hope Beckett clearing us will keep them from being too suspicious.”

“It’ll work,” Yulia said, though the furrow at her brow didn’t exactly bespeak certitude. “If there’s one thing we can always count on, it’s Beckett Carter thinking he’s got everyone figured out.”

“Better hope they reply, or we’re going to have to park it,” Jon said, slowing the rover. “Can’t risk coming within two clicks until we’re spoofed.”

“Cleared to proceed.”

Yulia grinned looking over at him. “Told you so.”

Then she squeezed his leg, something she’d shied away from doing in front of anyone else up until that moment.

Jon thrilled to it, laying his hand over hers, stroking it.

“Bodyguard, eh,” Anson only murmured it, but Jon could make it out clearly.

Which was probably the captain’s intention.

Lyssa’s soft little laugh confirmed she’d heard it too—and seen enough to put things together.

Jon looked over at him, Anson’s eyes narrowed, jaw tight. Though he said nothing, his glare spoke volumes:

Be good to her. Or else.

The trail got worse, the closer they got to the base, until the rover shuddered and shook, as Jon used it to simply bash its way through some of the underbrush.

Finally, they emerged into a large, obviously cleared swath, similar to a clear-cut.

But there was nothing there but a rock face escarpment along the tree line on the north side of the clearing.

“Where is it?”

He checked the range again—they were practically on top of it.

Anson hooked a thumb toward the rock wall. “There.”

“Where?”

“Trust me—just drive.”

Yulia giggled as he glanced at him. “Anson’s right.”

“Here goes nothing,” Jon said, turning the rover toward it, upping the speed slightly, but being careful not to look in a hurry.

The rock face loomed, and the urge to hit the brakes was almost too much… then an odd sort of almost lightheadedness as the vehicle passed right through the illusory rock face.

“Holy shit,” Jon muttered.

They emerged into a huge underground bay, the light lowering dramatically, the space obviously for vehicles and their maintenance. Jon passed a tracked vehicle that appeared to be a pre-TSS old Empire light assault vehicle.

“Be ready,” Anson said, nodding to Jon. “Take her out, nice and slow, just like we planned. Drive in as far as you can. You see those stairs running up the back wall of the bay? There’s a hallway that leads inside from the top of those—and that leads right into the command suite.”

“Got it,” Jon said.

His muscles were already tense, heart pounding, senses heightened. Once again, he hated not being fully armed. But here, that risked tipping Beckett off that something wasn’t right.

“Stick your arms back here, Yulia.” She took a deep breath, doing as he said, and Anson fixed the rigged cuffs around her wrists, linking them together.

Jon hated seeing her bound again.

In these circumstances, anyway.

Picturing in his mind’s eye a much different context, he quite looked forward to viewing her helpless and trembling before him once more.

First, they had to get out of this alive.

Awkwardly, forced to bend forward, she tucked her arms between her body and the seatback.

Jon saw the two men, standing at the base of the stairs, waiting for them. He recognized one—Beckett. He hadn’t seen the other one before, the taller man dressed in the same light blue Awakening jumpsuit as Anson, Tom, and Lyssa.

“There’s the motherfucker. Harling’s with him,” Anson growled, sinking down lower behind Yulia’s seat.

“Lyssa, Tom, don’t exit until my go. Cover anyone who enters the bay. We roll once Jon makes a move. I’ll take Beckett.”

“Copy that,” Lyssa and Tom said in unison.

He brought the rover to a stop, the engines spooling down with a dying whine, the acrid note of the exhaust just detectable on the air.

“Here we go,” Jon murmured, giving Yulia a little nod. She took a deep breath, and opened her door, sliding out.

Jon was out in a moment, and advancing. Each second seemed an eternity, and he made sure he had Yulia always in his peripheral vision. There was no way he was going to allow her to be hurt.

Harling, the taller one, walked toward him, extending his hand. Beckett held back.

“Nice to, uh, finally meet you… what do we… what do we call you?”

“Call me?” Jon stopped, looking down. He waited a heartbeat, then another. “Hmm.”

He threw the strike so fast, Harling still had the smile on his face when Jon’s fist crashed into his jaw, driving it upward. His eyes instantly rolled back, and he crumpled to the ground with a thud.

Beckett reached into his coat, but Anson’s voice snarled off to Jon’s right, just beyond Yulia.

“You keep your hands visible, Beckett, or I’ll shoot you right now!”

“Anson,” Beckett sneered, slowly withdrawing his empty hand. “I should have fucking known.”

Anson stepped up, and Beckett doubled over with a pained whoosh of air, as the captain drove his rifle butt into his midsection.

Beckett dropped to his hands and knees, gasping desperately.

“Should have known about that, too? That was for me.” Anson cracked the butt of the rifle down onto the back of Beckett’s head, the Carter Faction leader collapsing to the ground.

“And that’s for Petra, you piece of shit.” Anson spat on the unconscious man.

Yulia immediately retreated back toward the rover, and he just saw out of the corner of his eye, movement behind it as Lyssa and Tom began to move up to cover them.

An infantryman appeared at the top of the stairs, swinging his rifle down toward them.

Jon leaped for the stairs, landing about halfway up the risers, and then dashed up at the soldier.

He could hear somewhere down below, Tom’s shocked drawl. “Lyss, did you fucking see that?”

At that same instant, the infantryman tried to wheel around and fire upon him as he advanced, but Jon was much faster, parrying the rifle away with the heel of his hand, the gun firing with a roar toward the floor of the bay, the sound echoing loudly.

Jon ripped the weapon from the shocked soldier’s hand, and used it to sweep his legs out from under him. He came down on his back at the top of the stairs with a surprised grunt.

Jon struck him twice across the side of the face, his helmet flying off on the second blow, the soldier going still.

Leveling the rifle, Jon advanced the rest of the way up the stairs, then down the hallway, the cyan glow of the command suite filling the view through the other end.

There was only one man in there, a gray bearded figure seated at one of the command consoles. Surprisingly, he was wearing the dark uniform of TSS.

The man’s eyes went wide, and he held his hands up instantly, panicked. “Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot me.”

“Hands on the top of that console,” Jon barked, rifle trained on him. “Who are you? I’m sure you’ve got a good explanation for the TSS colors you’re wearing…”

“N-Norton! Norton Graham. I-I’m with Beckett!”

“All right then, Norton Graham. You sit right there, and do as you’re told, and you’ll be just fine.” Jon glanced down the hallway to see Tom and Anson dragging the unconscious Harling and Beckett with them.

Lyssa, rifle up and covering them, was right behind, Yulia bringing up the rear.

Anson dragged Beckett into the command suite, dropping him to the floor plates, the man groaning.

He flashed a glare at Tom, and stabbed a finger at the prone and still unconscious Harling. “Throw that piece of shit in the brig.” He kicked Beckett in the side, the man rolling over. “We’re not done with this asshole quite yet though.”

Lyssa circled around the inner perimeter of the command suite, checking the other entrance. “Clear!”

“Stay on it, Lyss. We’re likely to have some company after that gunshot.”

“Roger that, Cap.”

Jon spotted Yulia, and beckoned her over to him. “Here, with me.”

Thankfully, she instantly made a beeline for his side.

He tucked her close against him with one arm, scanning the rest of the suite to make sure there were no more threats.

“Now, how do we seal this fucker off?” Anson pointed his rifle at the still-seated Norton. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Meet Norton,” Jon said, arching a brow. “Apparently here with Beckett.”

“I’m just an engineer…s-software architecture.”

“For the TSS?” Anson’s eyes narrowed. “Better do some talking, and fast.”

“I’m j-just here to help Beckett!” Norton glanced at Jon, his gaze lingering for a heartbeat longer than it needed to. “I don’t…work for the TSS anymore.”

“Goddamn right you don’t,” Anson growled. “Now, Mr. Engineer. You have any ideas on how to seal off the command suite? I’m just a dumb grunt, so it’s beyond me.”

Norton swallowed. “I…I think I might.”