Serial: Bodyguard of Lies, episode 10: Harvest Time

[eimarra]

Bodyguard of Lies is a serialized science-fiction novel updating once a week on Tuesdays. If you missed last week’s episode, Calm Before the Storm, it can be found here. You can catch up on the entire serial on this page with a description of the story and links to all published episodes.

Bodyguard of Lies
Episode 10
Harvest Time

Gareth’s squad hit the ground first, just like the plan said. They wore light armor and breathing masks — just enough to get them through the airlock and into the farm. No training required. Bots in hand, they cycled the airlock.

The smoke grenade hit them before the inner door finished irising open. Gareth dove through the opening, scraping his armor against the sides. The strap on his breathing mask popped loose. One of his squad grabbed at his leg, but the weight fell off with the explosion.

Gareth landed on the packed dirt inside the dome and rolled over. Three Vuest guards pointed guns at him. One of them nudged him with his foot.

“Get up. How many more are coming?”

Gareth stood slowly. It had been a trap. Damn Tam and Cole and Vuest anyway. His team was a sacrifice. He turned his head to the airlock. Two of his squad of eight were moaning. Shrapnel had pierced their armor; even with reconstructive surgery, they were going to be a long time healing. He couldn’t make out the others through the smoke, but it was clear they were down for the duration.

He glared at the guards. “You already know.”

One of them hit him in the gut with her gun. Gareth exhaled hard, then breathed in shakily. The air in here, once he got beyond the smell of the grenade, was sweet with hints of orange and something else he couldn’t quite place, familiar as it was.

He put his hands on his knees to steady himself, still bent over, and looked up at the leader. “Look, it’s obvious you knew we were coming. So you know how many we are. If you’re going to kill me, just get it over with.”

The guard shook his head. “We only know we were sent for extra duty just in case. Tell us what’s going on, and we don’t even have to drop you. Might be able to find a place for you in our organization.”

Right. Like anyone wanted someone who would rat under pressure. They must think he was incredibly dumb.

He had just walked his squad into an ambush. Maybe he was dumb, at that, trusting Tam. His gaze filmed over; the air irritated him. He rubbed at his face with his hand, and shook his head to clear it.

“We’re it,” he said. He’d cover for Tam’s squad, if only to protect Sheil. “My squad was supposed to come in and get the stuff. We were only expecting one guard, which shouldn’t have been too bad to face.”

“It only took one of us to throw that grenade,” one of them said.

Gareth shook his head again. “Is there enough oxygen in this place? I’m feeling kind of dizzy without my mask on.”

“The air’s fine.” The leader stepped up to him and shoved the gun under his chin. “Now stop playing us. We know there have to be more of you. If not, we just take you out and we’re done.”

Tempting to let them shoot him, then have Tam come in and surprise them. But then he’d be out of it and the looey would have all the glory, as usual. Gareth took a deep breath, grabbed the gun and shoved it to the side. The guard pulled the trigger, but it was too late. It fired a bolt into the face of one of the other guards, who went down immediately.

The remaining guard brought her gun into firing position, but Gareth held the leader as a shield in front of him while tugging on the gun in her hand. The guard’s fingers cracked as joints popped and broke under pressure. The gun wound up in Gareth’s hands. He shoved the leader at the remaining guard, toggled the gun to wide spray, and watched both guards go down. They should’ve worn non-conducting armor.

He rolled his shoulders. One objective out of the way. He popped the bots off his back. One of them had cracked when he fell. He set the other one to harvesting. He’d check the remains of his squad for salvageable bots in a minute. First he had to signal the ship.

“All clear. Repeat, all clear. Guards eliminated.” No one acknowledged his signal, so he repeated it at thirty second intervals while he checked his squad for injuries and usable equipment.

Six bots were usable. He set them to work, pulled the two burned mercs into the farm, and cycled the lock. He hated leaving his friends outside, but he didn’t have time to get them all in. Then, too, he wasn’t sure why they were down. Let someone with med training deal with them.

Panting heavily now, Gareth tried to remember what other objectives he had. Right. The gun emplacement at the other end of the farm. If there were extra guards here, there were probably some there. No point continuing with the mission if the miner was going to be blown up as they left.

He staggered through the rows of plants. This many plants, there should be lots of oxygen. What was wrong with him? So dizzy, and the smell didn’t help. This reminded him of the one time he’d tried glass. Sheil had found him collapsed on the kitchen floor, vomiting and ranting about the blue in his blood.

He stopped. That was it. The plants. His metabolism had reacted to them, same as it did to any drugs. He was well on the way to an overdose. He turned back toward the airlock; he had to get out of here, see if there was another mask somewhere. Something. His vision swirled.

Gareth hit the ground.

Gareth didn’t know how long he’d been out. Evidently his system had dealt with the drug after all; he shouldn’t have panicked. He stood up and took a deep breath. Yes, he felt stronger now. This was wonderful. No wonder so many mercs wanted to use this stuff.

Movement to one side caught his attention. No whine of a bot. Must be another set of guards, sent to see why the three he’d dropped hadn’t come back yet. He slipped between the plants, crossing the rows. The plants rustled, but maybe the guards would think that was normal.

“Hey!” An unfamiliar face. “There you are.”

Gareth didn’t think; he just pulled the knife from his belt and cut across the throat of the guard. No way to yell for help now.

“Take that, sucker,” he said softly. “Your friends will join you soon enough.”

Yes, the friends. Gareth prowled down the row. No one else was in sight along this row, but he could hear activity nearby. He paused when he judged himself close to the next guard.

Whispers and movement. He tried to focus, but couldn’t quite make out what was being said. Code, perhaps, subvocalized commands, something to trick him, to trap him. He launched himself through the plants and tackled the pair that stood locked together.

Battle was no place for this. They should’ve known better. Too late now. He cut the woman’s throat. The man tried to yell at him, brought up his gun. But the drug was in Gareth’s system, and he could react faster than someone else could shoot. He slipped to one side of the barrel, grabbed the woman’s gun from its holster, and fired.

But now that shots had been fired, other guards would be coming. How many? This wouldn’t be all of them. Gareth had to hold out, had to take them all. He searched the fallen guards.

Their uniforms had no insignia. Odd, but maybe they were mercs brought in for this job, mercs who’d had no time to be fitted for uniforms yet, mercs who now would never collect whatever bonus they’d been promised. There, more grenades. He grabbed them all and faded back into the plants.

Shouts and running footsteps on the ground alerted him to the oncoming guards. He lobbed grenades toward the sounds, then ducked away farther into the plants for cover. The guards weren’t all down, though. He could hear the whispers — lower than he’d usually pick up perhaps, but these enhanced senses were incredible. He grabbed a bunch of berries from the plant next to him and shoved them into his mouth.

The whispers faded, but plant stems rustled. Close to the airlock, bots hummed as they went about their collection rounds. Odd that the guards hadn’t bothered to disable them; the crop would be useless to them if the bots got it all.

Gareth edged to the wall of the dome. Machinery jutted through the wall at intervals, air turbines and piping and other things he couldn’t even guess at. He crouched next to the last row of plants and scanned up and down. No sounds of breathing, no cloth whisked quickly out of sight. The guards hadn’t thought of coming this way for him.

He took a deep breath and held it until the colors cleared in front of his eyes again. He had to decide which way to go — take out the gun bank first, or circle back behind the bots and use them to take out the remaining guards? The banging of a door settled him; the airlock wouldn’t make that sound.

Keeping low, Gareth darted down the row, pausing at each embankment of machines to check for guards. He encountered no one. The door was obvious; it was precisely opposite the airlock, it had metal steps leading up to it, and it had a hole in the middle as though from a grenade.

Perhaps Tam’s squad had come in while he was unconscious; he wasn’t alone. He turned and scanned the way he’d come. No familiar faces showed themselves. Frowning, he eased up the stairs and peered through the hole.

The stairs continued on the other side of the door. One body lay headlong on them, hand outthrust toward the door. The guard didn’t have any visible weapons.

Gareth ran his finger along the hole; the metal was melted smooth. He slipped over the hole, first one foot and then the other. Anyone up here now should be on his side, but he wasn’t taking any chances. The person upstairs was working too hard at making no noise. Without his improved hearing, which made the breathing rasp in his ears, he would have been completely off guard.

He drew his knife again and crept up the stairs.

~~

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Originally published at Erin M. Hartshorn. You can comment here or there.