The Space Colonel's Woman (Dragonus Chronicles Book 1) (15 page)

“If you have to do this then comms will be down, so don’t bother with an earpiece.  Go for the walkies – channel two.  I’ll hear you.” Mark stroked the back of her hand, and she nodded in understanding. “Wear a vest, it has everything you need.”

“I remember.” Julia smirked, thinking about the one he’d been wearing when she found him on the beach.

“Listen.” His tone made her serious again. “Take an APX, spare clips, and a flashlight.  Leave the T60, you aren’t up to speed…” He raised his hand to stop her protest. “Yet.  It’ll slow you down.”

With Mark’s voice in her head, guiding her, Julia shrugged into a vest and felt the weight of it immediately drag on her shoulders.  She ripped the side seam of her dress, removed the knife sheath and replaced it with a thigh holster, before loading and checking one APX.  Julia holstered the weapon and added six spare clips to the vest pockets, then wedged a second Beretta between the vest and her breasts.  The threat of it was cold and heavy against her sweaty skin.

The radio in the top left pocket scritched to life when Julia held down the transmit button.

“Colonel Holden, this is Wings, do you copy?”

“Wings?!” Mark’s response was immediate, words clipped short and brusque on the open channel. “What’s your position?”

“The armory, what the hell’s going on?”

“Stand by.” She heard him swear and Stephen’s dulcet tones rebuking him before Mark got back to her. “Bad guys showed up uninvited.  Are there many on the ground?”

“I’ve killed one, I think, and three more know I’m in here.  Can’t tell you how anyone else is doing.”

There was dead air for a long moment.

“You okay?”

“Just peachy, Colonel.” She snapped, the whole situation getting the better of her. “Thanks for asking.”

“Can you make it to Dawson in the ballroom?”

“I’ll give it a go.  Three levels up, right?”

“Right.”

Julia could hear weapon’s fire both through the radio’s speaker and the armory walls.

“Grab a few flash bangs and throw them out the door.  Should give you time to run back the way you came.”

“Understood.”

“Wings?”

“Yes, Colonel?”

“Do me a favor, when you get there, stay put.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Holden, out.”

Mark’s
Holden out
had sounded like
love you
, and Julia felt bolstered from hearing his voice.  She sighed.  He was flying and now the explosions could mean enemy ships or gliders blowing up each other as well as the buildings.  There was nothing to worry about.  Mark was the best pilot here, and if that wasn’t enough, hopefully she’d be adequate incentive for him to come back alive.

“Focus, Wings!” Julia shouted aloud to the empty room; giving herself a full-body shake in the hopes of receiving a second dose of adrenalin.

She’d been in here too long.  The three remaining assailants would be right on her position, waiting for her to make her move.  With two stun grenades added to her personal arsenal, Julia pulled the pins on two more and pressed the door control with her elbow when the mind command failed.  The moment the gap was wide enough, she hurled the grenades into the corridor and flattened her body into the internal wall; hands over her ears and eyes scrunched tight.

Three seconds and Julia charged into the last wisps of chemical green smoke, firing her both APXs.  She had no idea if she’d hit anything but she wasn’t stopping to find out as she sprinted back the way she’d come.  The weight of the vest thunking down on her shoulders as she jumped over a spreading pool of Pepto-Bismol pink.  Heart pounding with painful sparks against her ribs, Julia covered the remaining stretch in four strides before ducking around the corner. 

She couldn’t catch her breath and her hands shook while she loaded fresh clips into both pistols, before racing for the open spiral stairs.  Six flights to the ballroom level, laden down with body armor and weapons she wasn’t conditioned to carry, would take a bit longer.  Past the pounding of her blood in her ears, Julia heard regimented bootsteps…coming…up.  She took off, using the handrail to haul herself upward.  Could she make it to level eight before they caught sight of her?

No, was the short answer.  Laser fire sparked off the silver railing a second too late.  She ran faster, reaching the top curve and turning to fire until her clips were empty again.  Hoping to gain some ground, she reached inside her vest for another smoke grenade, pulled the pin, and arced it down the stairs behind her.  Julia stood still, eyes shut and ears blocked, but she still heard the startling noise as the smoke drifted inland.  She was off again, wasting no time and bounding up the last steps to the eighth floor atrium.

The ballroom was three bends away with a hundred yard dash between each bend.  No problem, Julia joked to herself in an effort to keep from losing the desperate hold she had on the burgeoning freak out.  Her arm screamed for attention as blood trickled down her inner elbow and dripped in soft pats to mar the white floor.  She would bandage it when she got to the ballroom.  If she didn’t make it that far, then a lousy arm wound would be the least of her worries.

With her APXs drawn and her back against the wall, Julia double clicked her radio.

“Major Dawson, do you copy?”

“Go for Dawson.”

“This is Wings, I’m in the corridor by the open stairwell, three hundred paces from your position.  Can I get to you?”

“Are you armed?”

“Yes.”

There was a moment’s dead air before the major got back to her. “Make your way here, we’ll cover your approach.”

Mark would be able to hear their chatter and hopefully knowing her situation would help him concentrate better, so he came back to her in one piece.

Julia slid around the corner, sprinted the empty corridor with her heart in her throat; gasping air like a landed fish when she made it round the last corner.  She could hear laser blasts and gunfire dueling from the major’s position and Julia shuddered.  The ballroom could be accessed from both her position, and the doored stairs and the relocator at the other end.  Apparently, she wasn’t the only one attempting to reach it.

“Wings, we’re laying down cover fire, on my
go
get the hell over here!”

More rapid gunfire punched holes in the air, loud and terrifying in the confined space.

“GO! GO! GO!”

She ran like the devil was on her ass. 

Dawson’s men were crouched on one knee and firing up the corridor at unseen hostiles, when Julia ran behind their backs and into the ballroom; skidding to a halt in front of the startled faces of twenty dignitaries and a hundred-or-so assorted guests, all in black tie and flamboyant evening dress.

~*~

Julia sat surrounded by elegantly gowned women who fussed over her arm like hens clucking over a new batch of chicks, offering her glasses of water and napkins.  She accepted the water, took a swig and poured the rest over her arm.  She gritted her teeth and hissed a string of profanities as fire sizzled the raw edges of her flesh like the fat on a frying steak.  The dainty squeals of the women as they shuffled their shoes and hemlines back from the bloody water dripping onto the floor from her elbow, failed to register through the haze of pain. 

She was attempting to unfold a khaki military bandage from her vest one-handed, when Hayden and Anora finally worked their way through the crowd to her side.

“I was concerned for you.” Anora chastised. “I see I was right to be so.”

She smiled, tired and frazzled around the edges. “I’m alive, and in one piece.”

Hayden had taken the bandage and field dressed her wound with efficient skill.  “Almost.”

Julia nodded her thanks to him and squeezed Anora’s arm in reassurance, before going to talk to Major Dawson away from the crowd.  “Thanks for that Major.”

His men were still crouched in the doorway, firing sporadically.

“You’re welcome.  Where did you come from?”

“Initially I was trapped in the stairwell on ten.  Just now, from the armory.”  Julia gestured to her accessories and grinned.

“So I see.”

“Any idea what the hell’s going on?” She asked, messing with her hair, her shaky fingers snagging on tangled tresses and the few surviving pins.

“These guys have got bored with whatever they normally do, and decided to take us on instead.” Major Dawson chuckled, his dimples deepening. “Must love having their asses handed to them.”

“Colonel Holden?”

“He took off outta here after the first strike.  He’s leading the flight offensive.  We’ve got fifteen gliders up, shouldn’t be much longer.”

Major Dawson and his regular team, plus two squads of Marines had been on security detail for the function and had been in the ballroom when the attack began.  The people this Arcadian strike force was trying to get to were well protected.  The location helped too.  It was shielded by other buildings and defended by Mark’s squadron.

Hayden approached from her left and wrapped her in his arms; a huge teddy bear of a hug that smelled of something clean and soothing she couldn’t name, but was uniquely Hayden. “Love the dress.”

“Thanks, I put a lot of care and attention into my wardrobe this evening.” Hayden grinned, squeezed her once more before putting the regulation two feet between them. “You should’ve seen the knockout heels that went with it.”

“How’s it been here?”

Hayden growled, brows drawing down to echo the sharp line pressed into his lips. “Quiet.”

It seemed she had seen more action than Hayden.  Julia found it astonishing.  Hayden not so much. “Switch on your radio.”

She did as he asked and was blasted with rapid fire chatter.  It took a moment to decipher the voices from the gunfire, but the gist was the ground teams were tidying up the stragglers and the gliders were inbound to the Birdcage.  Hayden and Julia made eye contact, each finding relief looking back.

Julia jumped out of her skin when the major’s team zealously opened fire down the corridor.

“Wings!” Dawson yelled, spurring Julia into running to his side. “Got any flash bangs?”

“One.” She fished it out of her vest and handed it over.

“One’s all I need.” He grinned. “You and Hayden stay and cover the door.  Don’t let anyone leave.”

Julia nodded, dazed, and pulled both APXs.

“On three!” Major Dawson yelled to his men, who were paused on the balls of their feet.

“One!” The smoke grenade arced into the air, detonated before it hit the ground, and lit up the corridor before filling it with a choking cloud of acid yellow smoke.

“Two!”

“Three!”

The team charged down the corridor amid a storm of gunfire and noxious fumes.  Julia flanked one side of the entrance, her pistols loaded with their last clips and resting in her hands.  Hayden took the side with the view of the Marines’ backs.

“Wings, come in.”

It was the sweetest sound she could have hoped to hear.

“Go for Wings.” Mark sighed and Julia couldn’t help the soft smile that curved her lips.

“Location?”

“Ballroom, as ordered, Colonel.” She offered Hayden a smile.  He was listening with one ear as he watched the now-empty corridor.

“Dawson?”

“He charged off on clean up duty.”

“We’re coming to you.”

Colonel Archer tapped her on the shoulder, and Julia couldn’t help admiring Sarah’s off-the-shoulder gown of blue velvet and silver stars. “Colonel, I assume you took care of our pest control problem?”

“Exterminated, Colonel.”

“Excellent, Colonel, I knew there was a reason I put you in charge of pest control.” Sarah smiled and squeezed Julia’s shoulder before moving back to her guests.

Technicians had managed to bypass the damaged circuits and restore full power to Phoenix’s essential systems.  It pleased Julia no end when the overhead crystals that served as the city’s lightbulbs began to glow again.

Mark arrived in the ballroom ten minutes after his radio conversation with her; followed by twelve other pilots, all with T60s at the ready.  She wondered who the two he’d lost were.  He came straight to her; pleasure and exhilaration shining in his gorgeous eyes.  Without speaking he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and Julia cried out when he pulled her into his chest.  Instantly he was holding her away again, inspecting for damage with practiced hands.

“When?”

“Just as I dived into the armory.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” He demanded, his expression stern, brows and mouth drawn tight.

“Could you have done anything?” She asked. “No, it would have just worried you more, and you needed to focus so you could come back to me.”

He crushed his mouth to hers, expressing relief and love with the depth of his breath-stealing kiss.

“We’re both a little underdressed.” Julia chuckled when she was permitted to breathe again.

He looked down at himself.  With a TAC vest over his fitted white tee, thigh holster clipped over blue Class A pants that left nothing to the imagination, and black knee boots polished to a mirror shine, Mark was the epitome of space colonels everywhere.  Then his gaze travelled over her.