Supremacy's Outlaw: A Space Opera Thriller Series (Insurgency Saga Book 3) by T.E. Bakutis (top 100 books of all time checklist .TXT) 📗

from here, one which we can use to intercept them,” Marquis continued. He raised his hands as Pollen advanced. “Please, m’lady! In no duel between titans may we both emerge unscathed!”

“Then stop talking,” Pollen growled.

Marquis shook his helmeted head. “I betray no one. Only Bharat can disable the nanos inside Jan’s body, which shall, I fear, torment him beyond reason. We must go at once!”

Bharat brought up his AR chronometer and grimaced. Yes, it was about that time. Jan would be in agony in a few minutes, and Bharat had to stop that agony before it drove Jan insane.

“Show me to the entrance,” Bharat said. “We have to find Jan.” He only then remembered Fatima, still unconscious.

He couldn’t leave Fatima here, with Pollen. If Pollen killed Fatima, Fatima could never free his family from Senator Tarack. Not to mention letting Fatima die would make him feel just awful. “Let me help her.”

“You say Fatima didn’t betray him,” Pollen said. “Jan said different. Guess who I believe.”

“Yet Jan Sabato will soon face torment you cannot imagine!” Marquis declared. “Is it not better to save him first? We will have plenty of time, after, to argue about who betrayed whom.”

Pollen huffed. “Fine. We will be friendly, for this time.” Pollen picked up Fatima as if she weighed nothing, then flung Fatima over her shoulder. “You!” She pointed at Marquis with her free hand. “Lead. And you!” She pointed at Bharat. “Follow him. Try to run and I shoot you dead.”

Fair enough. “Go,” Bharat urged Marquis.

The bounty hunter turned heel, cloak billowing in an absurdly dramatic fashion, and strode toward a nearby boarded-up building. Pollen followed, bouncing Fatima as she did so, and Bharat grimaced as he searched for any signs of life. Fatima was breathing, at least, or maybe that was just the air popping out of her mouth every time Pollen’s shoulder bumped her stomach.

All of them beating the snot out of each other should never have happened, but it was obvious Pollen was convinced Fatima had betrayed Jan and sent him to orbit. What audio had Rafe played for her? When had Rafe recorded that audio, and when had Jan told anyone Fatima had betrayed him?

Jan had made it very clear he would keep Fatima’s so-called betrayal to himself, back before Bharat had unlocked his own memory of the truth, and Bharat could think of no reason Jan would reveal what he mistakenly thought Fatima had done ... unless he thought he was going to die. Yet even if Jan had told Rafe, why was Pollen out here and not down there with Jan?

For now, Bharat would simply move forward and hope no one beat up anyone else. If Fatima hadn’t hit Pollen with that autocar, Bharat might very well be dead right now, or Pollen might be. Bharat would just have to hope Fatima would suffer no permanent damage from all the jostling and asphyxiation.

With two precise chops, Marquis destroyed the sheet of wood blocking the doorframe of the abandoned building. His green and yellow armor must be powered, like a Vindicator suit. He tossed the wreckage aside and strode into the darkness, cloak billowing behind him. “The entry waits in the basement. Follow me!”

Bharat didn’t know why anyone would wear a cloak when walking anywhere, but the fabric, he admitted, was visually striking. It was also the first thing Bharat would grab in a fight. He could probably strangle Marquis with it.

Gloom closed in as Marquis led them down a darkened, narrow flight of steps. Bharat winced as Pollen turned and almost slammed Fatima’s head into a wall. Marquis led them into a basement that smelled of mildew and dead animal, now lit by the powerful headlamp above the X on Marquis’s helmet.

Marquis spread his arms. “Stand back, if you please! I will now open the way to a sealed maintenance entrance!”

“Right,” Pollen said. “How?”

Marquis reached into his cloak, at his belt at his back, and pulled out a plastic tube about the size of a pistol. He placed its tip against the wall, then drew. The stick produced a narrow line of white goo that glittered beneath his headlamp. Marquis traced a large opening in the otherwise featureless wall.

“Hey, Marquis.” Bharat grimaced as Fatima moaned something. “You sure this place is stable enough for explosives?”

“Absolutely!” Marquis took several steps back. “Now cover your ears, ladies and gentlemen! This will be quite loud!”

This was seeming like an increasingly bad idea. There were no windows down here. “Wait, before you—”

The wall exploded with a boom that deafened Bharat. He cowered as shards of biocrete and plaster rained down, and his throat seized up as he involuntarily inhaled what was probably a toxic combination of mold, pulverized biocrete, and worse. He coughed and waved his hands in front of his now burning eyes, unable to make out anything through the smoke and dust.

“MY APOLOGIES!” Marquis boomed. “I FORGOT NOT EVERYONE HAS CIRCULATED AIR!” What was probably a deafening voice to everyone else was barely a whisper to Bharat’s abused eardrums.

Steady hands gripped Bharat and guided him forward. Coughing and blinking back tears, Bharat let Marquis lead him through the dust cloud and into the darkness beyond. He had to keep his focus on helping Jan and not, as he’d prefer, punching this insufferable bounty hunter in the junk.

“REMAIN HERE!” Marquis boomed, and moved off.

Bharat felt about until he found a wall, cool and un-blown-up. He leaned against it, trying to get his coughing under control. Where was Pollen? Where was Fatima? They must be back in the basement. Marquis must have gone back