Oli shook his fist at Zelo. “You should’ve cut the yab and dragged the boy out! I would have my defenses back up by now! We’re motherfucked, thanks to –” He cried out as Mal punched him, sending the pyrojack tumbling to the floor.

  Holt and Serral raised their rifles but Mal held up his hand, palm out, as he stepped over Oli’s unconscious body. He turned to see Zelo aiming the coil pistol at him.

  “I’m not gonna let Zeta take the boy,” said Mal.

  “You’re the Zeta’s dog,” said Serral. “Why should we believe you?”

  “They didn’t tell me their plan for Sammar. Now I got other plans. Scrag me if you don’t believe it, but you’ll have one less against the Zetas.”

  Zelo studied Mal’s face. He nodded to the others. “We’re in this together. For now.”

  ///

  Mal and Zelo took position at the end of the corridor leading to the front entrance. The Phoenix fighters gave one of their two transmitters to Ehzi, who remained in the supply pod watching the monitors. After a quick, fierce argument they decided Zelo would carry the other transmitter. Serral and Desmond positioned themselves inside the lab while Holt stood watch in the domicile pod.

  “We’re in position,” Zelo whispered into his transmitter.

  “I don’t see any movement. They’re all out of camera range. Stay sharp,” said Ehzi.

  Mal inspected Zelo’s N5. He sucked his teeth in disgust at the rifle’s condition; the dinged barrel, the wobbly bolt lock-up.

  Zelo looked at him from the far side of the corridor. “Problem?”

  “Your steel is scrap,” said Mal.

  “You traded down,” Zelo shrugged. He waved the coil pistol he’d taken from Mal.

  “Gimme the coil.”

  “Pass my gun first.”

  Mal stared, stone faced, until Zelo slid the pistol across the corridor toward him.

  “It only has four projectiles anyway,” said Zelo as Mal tossed the N5 to him. Zelo regarded Mal, chuckling to himself. “Farragut likes poetic gestures too much.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “Sending the son of Darus Gomes to deliver the first child burner to glory. I’ll bet the Zeta path-heads had themselves a good laugh scheming up that one.”

  “You Phoenix nuks think you float above the shit, but your boots still stink,” said Mal. “Judging Zeta. You’re hunting down a boy for your pyrojacks to pull him apart so you can build your own baby burners.”

  “Nah.” Zelo shook his head. “Phoenix ain’t interested in weaponizing children. But we can’t let Sammar detonate inside Avalon. There’s big moves at play connected to the Dolvac Heights attack. Zeta is putting it all at risk to try and grab their own glory.”

  “What ‘big moves’ are you talking – “

  Ehzi’s voice crackled over Zelo’s transmitter. “Single target heading for the front!”

  A moment later an explosion blew the door at the end of the corridor off its latches, sending tremors rippling through the facility. Mal and Zelo ducked into the compartments they were using for cover. They leaned out, aiming their guns down the corridor, waiting for any sign of movement. Nothing but darkness could be seen beyond the battered, smoldering doorway.

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  Suddenly the sound of gunfire reverberated from the far side of the facility.

  “Serral and Des are under fire in the lab!” said Ehzi over the transmitter. “Looks like four, maybe five Zetas cut through a side portal.”

  “I’ll back them up,” said Mal as he struggled to get to his feet.

  “No,” said Zelo. “Fight’ll be over by the time you hobble there.” He dashed down the corridor, leaving Mal to cover the front entrance.

  Mal cursed as he kept the coil pistol trained on the open doorway, annoyed that he now had no way to link to Ehzi. They were outgunned, but Mal hoped the surprise of facing a squad of Phoenix fighters instead of a lone lancer would catch Remu and the Zetas off-guard.

  The distant gunfire continued sporadically. He was about to give up his position and head for the lab when a Zeta fighter stepped through the demolished front entrance.

  He ducked back into the compartment, allowing the fighter to get two meters inside the corridor. When no other Zetas entered, Mal leaned out and fired. The projectile pierced the fighter’s forehead and he was dead before his body hit the floor.

  Mal waited. No other movement. More gunfire erupted, this time from the domicile pod directly behind him. Mal cursed again. The front door explosion was meant as a distraction; the main forces were attacking the other sides of the facility. Mal struggled to his feet and limped as fast as he could down the corridor toward the lab.

  Mal ducked into the passageway connecting the front entrance to the domicile pod. A burst of bullets slammed into the passageway wall. Mal ducked, then pressed forward in a crouch.

  He saw Holt inside the domicile, staggering backward and firing his shotgun. He’d taken a hit to the shoulder. Bullets punched the walls and furniture near him as the Phoenix fighter dove for cover behind a metal trunk.

  Mal leaned out from the passageway just far enough to catch a glimpse of two Zeta fighters hunkered behind a couch on the far side of the pod. He could see the casement on the wall behind them had been blown open where they’d breached the domicile.

  Holt struggled to reload his shotgun while crouched behind the trunk. One of the Zetas took the opportunity to leap over the couch and charge. That’s when Mal pivoted from his position inside the passageway and fired his coil pistol. The projectile silently found its mark, piercing the side of the fighter’s neck and embedding itself in the wall.

  It took a moment for the other Zeta to figure out what happened, allowing Mal to fire another shot.

  The projectile punctured the couch but missed the Zeta. He glimpsed Mal and opened fire, spraying the passageway with bullets. Mal jumped back as sparks and debris filled the air.

  Holt popped up from behind the trunk and fired his shotgun. One of the shots clipped the top of the couch near the Zeta. Mal couldn’t believe he’d missed. The Zeta retaliated with a barrage of bullets and Holt fell backward, blood erupting from multiple wounds.

  Mal knew he had a split-second to act before the Zeta turned his attention back to him. He charged from the passageway, his leg howling in pain, rushing toward the couch. Too slow; the Zeta swiveled, aimed his rifle for Mal’s gut and pulled the trigger.

  The rifle seized but didn’t fire. Mal and the Zeta stared at each other in disbelief.

  The Zeta tossed his rifle aside and lunged. A guttural cry almost made it out of his throat before Mal’s projectile struck him in the mouth and exited the back of his head.

  Mal hobbled to Holt, still prone behind the trunk. Gunfire could be heard coming from the lab. Holt coughed up blood. Bullets had pierced his stomach, shoulder and throat. He looked up and pushed his shotgun into Mal’s hands before slumping, lifeless, against the floor.

  The kid had vig, Mal thought to himself. Even if he couldn’t shoot.

  A thunderous eruption knocked Mal off his feet.

  His stomach twisted as he looked toward the portal connecting the domicile to the supply pod where Ehzi and Sammar were stationed. Smoke and a rancid chemical smell began to fill the air, but it was from the passageway leading to the lab. At least Ehzi and the boy weren’t caught in that blast. He didn’t have high hopes for those inside the lab.

  Mal tossed the coil pistol, gripped the shotgun and plunged into the smoky passageway. Through the fumes he could see flames flickering inside the lab.

  A figure staggered toward him. Mal stepped back but held his fire. The smoke swirled just enough for Mal to see it was Zelo, his face and body badly burned. Zelo toppled to the floor, gasping for air. Mal could hear Ehzi’s voice coming from the transmitter clipped to Zelo’s charred plate vest.

  Zelo grabbed Mal’s arm. “We had ‘em,” he wheezed. “They started shooting at… chemical vats…” Zelo eyelids fluttered shut. Mal spat in frustration. He deserved a better death.

  “Zelo, are you there? The lab cam went dark,” Ehzi’s voice crackled. Mal grabbed the transmitter and clipped it to his jacket.

  “The lab blew. Everyone fried,” said Mal. “What’s your sit?”

  “Mal, the Zetas on the roof climbed into a vent. They could be anywhere – oh shit, they’re – “

  “Ehzi. Ehzi!”

  No response from the transmitter.

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