Home > Prime Deceptions (Chilling Effect #2)

Prime Deceptions (Chilling Effect #2)
Author: Valerie Valdes

 

Chapter 1

Kick the Puppies

 


Captain Eva Innocente ran through the snow, trying to ignore that her pants were on fire.

It wasn’t actually snow so much as a highly flammable form of crystalline methane precipitating peacefully from the sky of the aptly named planet Kehma. She also wasn’t actually running, more of an aggressive hobble that wanted very badly to be a run, but her left gravboot was randomly malfunctioning and sticking her to the ground, so she kept having to send a deactivation command through her commlink to get moving again.

Her pants were definitely on fire, though, blue and magenta because of the methane. Her spacesuit protected her from burns, or she would have been more worried about it. And while it would have been funny to note that the fire started immediately after she lied to someone, at the moment she was focused on not getting shot by that person and his accomplices, who were chasing her.

Eva darted behind a rock formation as a bolt of plasma seared past her head. She would have loved to get her own pistol out, but she needed both hands to carry the package she’d gone to Kehma to steal. Well, steal back, since it had been stolen in the first place. Regardless, she had no hands with which to defend herself, so she had to rely on others.

((Help,)) she pinged at Vakar, who was supposed to be providing cover fire. Her quennian partner was much faster than she was, given his functioning boots and longer, back-bending legs. She’d lost track of him in the snow, which in her immediate vicinity was now falling in tiny blue flames as the bits stuck to her legs burned higher and brighter. The air around her shimmered with heat, and she was glad her nose was protected by the bubble of her isohelmet, because she was sure it smelled like spicy farts outside.

No answer from Vakar, either because of weather interference or because the Blue Hounder mercenaries behind her had signal scramblers. The doglike bipedal truateg definitely had expensive plasma rifles, no doubt courtesy of their suppliers at The Fridge. Working for an intergalactic crime syndicate had its perks, which Eva was a little salty about. Why did the bad guys always get better stuff than she did?

A shot tore through the air so fast it left a trail of blazing purple-blue, coming from in front of her instead of behind. Either she’d been flanked, or—

A second later, the sonic boom reached her, and Eva grinned. Unless the mercs had added sniper rifles to their arsenal, that was definitely Pink. And if her co-captain had arrived, that meant La Sirena Negra couldn’t be far behind.

Eva darted from behind her cover toward another rocky pillar, lurching forward and cagando en la mierda every time her gravboot stuck. The methane-fueled fire was up to her chest now, making visibility even more difficult. She shifted the package so most of its weight was on her right side; the damn thing was heavy, and bulky, and she hadn’t expected to be carrying it while running and being shot at. Another plasma bolt narrowly avoided her, sizzling against the rock as she ducked behind it. She thanked the Virgin these mercs weren’t better shots, though come to think of it, that was a little odd. People who got paid to shoot things to death tended to be pretty good at it, or they didn’t get paid for long. Unless they were herding her . . .

The click-whine of a rifle being armed next to her head made her freeze. As much as it was possible to freeze while on fire.

“Give back the cargo,” the merc said. His voice came through her translators as whiny despite his broad, jowly features and beady eyes.

“Wasn’t yours in the first place, mijo,” Eva said. Why hadn’t he shot her already?

“Who hired you?” he snarled, a line of drool falling into his collar. “How did you learn about this facility?”

Ah, information. The real currency of the cosmos.

“A little bird told me,” Eva said.

He pressed the muzzle of his rifle to the spot where her isohelmet met her suit. “Do not speak in idioms, human. Answer my questions or die.”

“Can’t answer questions if I’m dead, mijo,” Eva replied. “Nice rifle, by the way, you get that out of a catalogue with your parents’ credit line?”

The merc made an angry horking sound. “I earned this, you hairless whelp. I’ve been a mercenary for longer than you’ve been alive.”

“And you haven’t retired yet? Qué lástima, you must not be very good at it.”

“Enough!” the truateg shouted. “You and your pack, playing at a profession you barely understand. It makes my testicles itch.”

Eva almost snarked at that, but something moved behind the merc: the palest of shadows, silent as snow.

“When I was your age,” the merc continued, “we had respect for our elders. For the mercenary code. You don’t even have a proper uniform!”

“Times change,” Eva said. “Oye, could you hold this for a second?”

She thrust the package at the merc, who grabbed it reflexively. His rifle swung away from her and she activated the present Vakar had gotten her for her last birthdate: a set of sonic knuckles that formed glowing gold rings around her fingers. Her first punch landed in the truateg’s gut, the second on his shoulder, and by the third Vakar had stepped up to wrench away the rifle and drop the merc with a blow to the back. Eva deactivated her knuckles and took the stolen package back, giving the half-conscious truateg an extra kick in the junk for good measure.

“Where are the others?” Eva asked.

“Gaining ground.” Vakar took the package from her, nearly invisible as his shiny metal armor reflected the whiteness of the not-snow around him. “We should complete our evacuation.”

“Did you sabotage their ship like I asked you to?”

“I would have reached you sooner if I had not,” he replied. “Their navigation systems will be installing a false software update for the next half cycle at least.”

“Dios mío, that’s evil,” Eva said, grinning. “Vámonos, let’s get out of here before I turn into carne asada.”

((Location?)) she pinged at Min.

((Look up,)) came the pilot’s reply.

La Sirena Negra roared in, its dark hull obscured by the methane snow coating the shields. Min brought the ship to a stop so that it hovered a meter above them, breaking some of the stone spires in the process. Eva and Vakar raced over to the emergency hatch.

“You first,” Eva told Vakar. “Get that damn thing inside or we don’t get paid.”

He shifted the package to one side and began to climb awkwardly with his free claw. Just as Eva started to join him, her gravboot stuck to the ground again. This time, it refused to obey her mental command to deactivate, so she had to release the ladder and crouch down to examine the stubborn thing.

A bolt of plasma streaked past, followed by a gargling howl from the truateg. Coño carajo, Eva thought, staying low and frantically jabbing at the manual release on the outer sole of the boot. Still not responding.

“Worthless feces licker!” shouted one of the mercs. “Taste my vengeance!”

“Tastes like chicken!” Eva shouted back. Not that they knew what chicken was.

A sonic boom overhead told her Pink was providing cover fire, buying her a few plasma-free moments. The methane flames completely coated Eva now, but she still couldn’t get her damn gravboot free. With a frustrated groan, she activated her sonic knuckles again and punched the ground around her foot, breaking up the pale rock into gravel-sized pieces. There just needed to be enough left to trick the boots into sticking to them, instead of the solid parts underneath—

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