"What?"
"You're with me. Come on."
"You want to use me as a shield?" demanded Harriet incredulously. "What sort of man are you?"
"A cautious one." Smith gestured with the gun, and Harriet saw she had no choice. His ship was on the line, and he wasn't bluffing.
Together they followed the other men into the airlock, and then Smith stood behind her as the door opened. The two men went first, looking around as though they expected a volley of withering fire from the darkness at any second. Harriet came next, with Smith close behind. She could smell corruption in the air, rotting vegetation laced with the pungent smell of burnt fuel. Insects buzzed and chirped, and she swatted away a persistent mosquito. Tree branches reached towards the ship like grasping arms, and she could see white, splintered wood where they'd been snapped off by the hull.
The men reached the foot of the ramp and spread out. Harriet and Smith followed, and the four of them stood there, peering into the darkness. Then, without warning, they heard a soft fizz, fizz, and the two crew members crumpled to the ground.
"Don't move," said a female voice, directly behind them. "Next time I'll shoot to kill."
Chapter 22
Alice was crouched behind the ramp when Teresa shot the two crew members, and in the sudden flurry of action she'd barely glanced at the other two people who'd emerged with the men. Then, with the first two on the ground and out of action, she realised it was Harriet standing nearby, and felt an overwhelming rush of relief. She'd been dreading what they might find when they caught up with the freighter, but it seemed Harriet had come through unscathed. There she was, wearing her Peace Force uniform, and looking as calm and collected as she did when heading into the office first thing in the morning.
Then Alice noticed the man standing next to her, and her eyes narrowed. Tyron Smith! The thieving, scum-sucking, bottom-feeding murderer who'd ended her uncle's life … standing right there, in the open.
Before she knew what she was doing, Alice stood up and wrenched the gun from Teresa's hand. "Smith, you lousy bastard. This is for my uncle!" She aimed and fired at him in one quick motion, and as her shot skimmed by Smith's shoulder he turned to face her, already firing from the hip. Alice ignored the bright, angry shots as they tore by, and fired repeatedly, shouting at him, screaming at him to die.
Smith fired twice more, then ducked and ran up the ramp towards the ship, dragging Harriet along with him. Alice ran to the foot of the ramp and aimed the gun upwards, trying to get a clear shot, but all she could see was Harriet's face, her eyes round with surprise and shock.
The outer door slammed, and Alice banged her fist on the handrail. Her heart was pounding, and she wanted nothing more than to run after Smith, drag the door open and corner him, making him beg for his life before she put an end to him. But as her blood rage ebbed, she reminded herself Harriet was in there with him.
"Alice. Help."
Alice turned at the sound, and saw Teresa on the ground behind the ramp. She was clutching her shoulder, and her face was deathly pale in the darkness. "No, no," muttered Alice, and she ran over, Smith all but forgotten.
"You bloody nutcase," growled Teresa, her voice weak. "What the hell were you thinking?"
Gently, Alice moved Teresa's hand, and she winced when she saw the woman's shoulder. The jacket was torn where the blaster shot had struck, and there was a lot of blood. Quickly, Alice tore strips off her shirt, and with the makeshift bandages she did what she could to stop the bleeding.
"Give me the gun," said Teresa, struggling to sit up.
Alice shook her head. "I'm going to end this. You can't stop me."
Teresa sank back again with a sigh. "Yeah, I guess you're right. I should never have brought you along."
"It's just your shoulder. You'll be fine." Privately, Alice hoped so. It wasn't like there was a hospital nearby, and her first aid skills began and ended with bandages ripped from t-shirts. She glanced up at the ship overhead. Smith would come for them, she knew it, and they had to be ready for him.
— ♦ —
"What the bloody hell was she thinking?" raged Harriet, pacing up and down the flight deck with her hands balled into fists. If she could have grabbed Alice at that moment, she would have shaken the girl until her teeth fell out.
"Er, hello?" said Smith. He was leaning against the console with the gun in his hand, watching Harriet with something approaching amusement. "I'm the one she's after."
"She could have hit me!" shouted Harriet. "That stupid, reckless—"
"Hey, it's me she was trying to kill."
Harriet rounded on him. "Yeah, but you deserve it. I'm supposed to be her sister!"
"Yeah, good luck with that."
"Don't laugh. Do not laugh." Harriet stood still, hands on hips. "You think you've got a hostage, don't you? Well guess again, buddy, because that girl will shoot me down to get at you. Have you thought of that? This is not going to end well, not for either of us."
"What do you suggest?"
"I suggest you didn't kill her uncle!" shouted Harriet. "I suggest you didn't come sniffing around the office, sending your thick-headed goons to capture a teenage girl. I suggest—"
"Things could have gone better," admitted Smith.
Harriet stared at him, mouth open. Then the red mist descended, and she almost launched herself at him. "Could have gone better?" she snarled. "Are you completely insane? They just shot four of your people, and let me tell you, buster, you're next. Alice isn't going to stop until she's splashed your brains all over the walls of your precious ship."
Smith
