trying to flank us!’ said Jez. She fired at one of the smugglers, who was scampering from behind a pile of broken hydraulic parts. The bullet cut through the sleeve of his shirt, missing him by a hair. He froze mid-scamper and fled back into hiding.
‘Cheap kind of tactic, if you ask me,’ Crake commented, having recovered sufficient breath for a spot of nervous bravado. He knocked the shells from the drum of his revolver and slotted five new ones in. ‘The kind of sloppy, unoriginal thinking you come to expect from these mid-level smuggler types.’
Jez peered round the side of the crates, looking for the man she’d shot at. Instead she saw another, making his way from cover to cover, attempting to get an angle on them. He disappeared before she could draw a bead on him.
‘Can I get a bit less wit and a bit more keeping your bloody eyes open for these sons of bitches coming round the side?’ she snapped.
‘She’s no shrinking violet, I’ll give her that,’ Frey commented to Malvery.
‘The girl’s gonna fit right in,’ the doctor agreed.
More of Macarde’s gang had moved up and taken shelter behind the two-man flyer. Crake was peppering it with bullets.
‘Ammo!’ Malvery reminded him.
Frey ducked away as a salvo of gunfire blasted chips from the stone floor and splintered the wood of the crates. Malvery answered with his shotgun, loudly enough to discourage any more, then dropped back to reload.
Jez stuck her head out again, concerned that she’d lost sight of the men who were trying to flank them. Despite her warning, her companions were still preoccupied with taking pot-shots at the smugglers approaching from the front.
A flash of movement: there was another one! A third man, edging into position to shoot from the side, where their barricade of crates would be useless.
‘Three of them over here!’ she cried.
‘We’re a little busy at the moment,’ Frey replied patiently.
‘You’ll be busy picking a bullet out of your ear if you don’t—’ she began, but then she got shot.
It was a white blaze of pain, knocking the wind from her and blasting her senses. Like being hit by a piston. The impact threw her backwards, into Crake, who half-caught her as she fell.
‘She’s hit!’ he cried.
‘Already?’ Frey replied. ‘Damn, they usually last longer than that. Malvery, take a look.’
The doctor blasted off two shots to keep the smugglers’ heads down, then knelt next to Jez. Her already unhealthy pallor had whitened a shade further. Dark red blood was soaking through her jacket from her shoulder. ‘Ah, girl, come on,’ he murmured. ‘Don’t be dying or anything.’
‘I’m alright, Doc,’ she said, through gritted teeth. ‘I’m alright.’
‘Just you stay still.’
‘Haven’t got time to stay still,’ she replied, struggling to her feet, clutching her shoulder. ‘I told you they were coming round the side! Where’s the one who . . . ?’ She trailed off as she caught sight of something behind them, coming down the cargo ramp, and her face went slack. ‘What is that?’
Malvery turned and looked. ‘That? That’s Bess.’
