The Dragon Corps Read online

  Now when the Dragons came, they killed the resistance fighters and left smoking ruins in their wake.

  2

  The sirens were already blaring as Nyx landed and rolled on one of the streets, the tiny parachute motors already flattened back into place on her gear.

  The motors might work better than actual parachutes—no tangling, no death window where they were too low to use but too high to survive a fall—but it had taken a damned while to get used to jumping out of a ship with no backpack on. They all did it anyway, of course. They used anything that gave them an edge.

  And, really, it was worth it to see the look in their opponents’ eyes when they hit the ground, minus a parachute but not dead.

  The rest of the team was landing behind her and running for cover as she came up to a knee and started laying down cover fire. Tersi was at the other side of the street, doing the same thing.

  As Team 9’s Chief, Tersi had developed a reputation for ridiculously fast hacking, and slow, methodical combat. Where the rest of them moved quickly, Tersi chose his targets carefully and took his time—and woe betide anyone Tersi had picked as a target. The results spoke for themselves, and as Talon liked to point out, it was good for a combat team to have multiple skills.

  The trick, in this case, was the civilians. Ymir was considered an occupied territory, and Dragons, while not held to the strictures of Alliance law, never wanted to take innocent lives. The problem was that occupied territory tended to be occupied by total shitbags who didn't care whether or not their civilians got killed. As the citizens of Ymir ran for their homes, shoving their children ahead of them in panic, shots soared over their heads toward the Dragons.

  “That’s how you want to play, motherfuckers?” Nyx muttered. “All right, then, that's how we'll play.”

  She heard Talon’s laughter in her ear piece. “They always try that shit.”

  “Yeah, well, I'm getting real tired of it.” She held her fire, cursing, as a child ran into view. There was a scream from one of the houses and the door was wrenched open. A man ran out, scooped the child into his arms, and dashed back to safety.

  That, in Nyx’s opinion, said everything that needed to be said. The people of this planet would run into gunfire between Dragons and the warlord’s forces, because they knew the warlord’s soldiers wouldn't hesitate to kill even children. That was the sort of fear they used to keep the population in line.

  Talon must have been thinking along the same lines, because he spoke on their private channel once more, his breathing harsh. “The sooner we take him down, the sooner this all stops.” He sounded like he was running, and indeed, a moment later he burst past the line established by Nyx and Tersi, leading the first push into enemy territory.

  Nyx had known since she was a little girl that she wanted to be a Dragon. For her, there had been no other option, no plan B. She had proved herself time and again in the Alliance Navy in order to qualify for Dragon selection. There, the famously grueling training process had brought her to her knees more than once and made her doubt whether she had what it took to be a Dragon.

  But she had never doubted the dream, itself, and she had never doubted whether every training session and every scar was worth it—and moments like this were why. Right now, they were striking with surgical precision against people who would enslave and torture others, and it was the officers who led the charge and brought up the rear.

  After years of watching her fellow officers ride chairs and slay paperwork in the Navy, Nyx had come to the inescapable conclusion that good orders were only given by those who were willing to take on the danger themselves.

  It was why she trusted Talon implicitly.

  As soon as the all clear was given, and the target locations were called out, she and Tersi began the second push.

  “Cluster of them in the three story building on the left!” Aegis sounded more annoyed than anything else. He was the oldest member of their team, with close cropped hair that was entirely grey, and he dealt with enemies with this sort of attitude you might expect from a grandfather complaining about neighborhood kids in his yard. “Third story windows and the the roof.” There was the sound of a shot, and someone fell, screaming, to the dirt. “One less on the roof,” Aegis said blandly.

  “Keep your eyes peeled for the first target,” Talon instructed.

  They had been passed a list of five targets in this district. For some reason, it seemed that the highest ranking of the Warlord’s lieutenants all lived here. If the Dragons could take them out quickly and cleanly, his response to the invasion would be crippled.

  Nyx fought the feeling that none of this mattered. They had gotten this far before, more than once. They had beaten the Warlord’s lackeys back until there was no return fire and the path to the palace seemed clear.

  And then, every time, they had been instructed to pull out. Later, Intelligence would be able to offer no specifics on why the mission had been deemed too dangerous.

  Talon, fiercely protective of his squad, had never risked losing them all—but the members of Team 9 occasionally took bets on how long it would be before their commander decided to press ahead, intel be damned. As Talon’s second in command, Nyx never took a bet, but she privately wondered the same thing. They had come so close, so many times. How many more attempts before Talon lost his patience with Intelligence agents who had never been on the ground?

  Nyx did not even flinch as one of the Warlord’s soldiers burst out the door of the three story building, running at her with a battle cry. The woman was bringing up her weapon to fire, but she was not as well trained. She was slow. Nyx pushed herself two an even harder sprint and her own weapon, already up, picked off the enemy easily.

  What kind of person showed such suicidal devotion to a man like the Warlord? The thought was there and then gone. They could mull over their enemies’ motives later, while there weren't bullets flying.

  And, who knew, this might just be the time they took down the Warlord, himself.

  Talon watched as Nyx took out the enemy without even breaking her stride, and skidded behind cover with her weapon still up and scanning. He looked at the attacker, now lying with her life’s blood pooling on the dusty street, and could not bring himself to feel even a flicker of sympathy. In some of their fights, the Dragons faced enemies who tested the limits of their skill and ingenuity. Other times, they faced people who barely seemed to be combatants at all. When that happened, despite himself, Talon wondered if he should feel guilty. He was killing people who’d never had a chance against him.

  But these were the worst of the worst—and they’d made the choice to try to end his life. Their competence at that endeavor wasn’t really relevant.

  His eyes scanned the road ahead. If their target was anywhere, it was likely to be that building, and they had to get into it now. Scans from the Ariane suggested that beneath that building was a warren of tunnels. They would have guidance from the members of the team still on the ship, but it was still going to be a bitch and a half to pursue someone down there. Around every corner, there might be a surprise.

  It was time consuming, it was dangerous, and he didn’t think jack shit of the Warlord’s lieutenants for pulling shit like this.

  Hell, if anyone should be using tunnels, it should be the rumored resistance on this planet, not the people who had the Warlord’s backing. Intelligence reports continually downplayed the rumors, noting that the communications within and between the districts were strictly controlled, and that the populace was beaten down and restricted in their movements.

  But Talon knew they were here. They had to be here. You didn’t treat a populace like the Warlord treated people, and not get a resistance movement.

  One of these days, intel or no, he was coming back on a cloaked ship and he was going to track down the people who were here. He was going to get the information they had, because they would know things that even Intelligence couldn’t possibly know.

  And he would help them
overthrow the despot who sat in that pretty little palace.

  He saw the twitch of curtains in his peripheral vision and then the barrel of a gun pointing out the grime-streaked window. His arm was moving before he registered any of it on a conscious level. The glass shattered, there was a scream from inside, and the gun was gone. It did not reappear.

  Whether the soldier was dead or not, that suited him just fine. He didn’t particularly care about the Warlord’s people who didn’t shoot at them.

  They were for the courts to worry about.

  His eyes darted between the buildings. He was sure he had not seen his target in the crowds that were running as they landed. She might have been one of the people shooting at them, but they were going to have to go inside the building in order to confirm that.

  Goddammit.

  And then … there she was. Middle aged, black hair. She walked out of the building unarmed, and stopped in the middle of the road.

  Talon’s hazel-green eyes met hers through the dust, and something flickered in his chest that felt uncomfortably like respect. She wasn’t running. He had to give it to her. She knew she had no chance, but she hadn’t made him hunt her down, taking out her team along the way. In truth, way this woman was looking at him suggested honor.

  “Jacinta Nikolau?”

  She nodded. It was a businesslike nod. “Get it over with, then.”

  “Where are the rest?” If she was going to make this easy, he might as well get everything he could.

  Although something about this definitely was not right. He saw Aegis out of the corner of his eye, advancing along the side of the street like a shadow. A faint touch of red glimmered on the helmet, nearly battered away after years of heavy use.

  A Dragon always wore red.

  “Didn’t your intel tell you where we all were?” She raised an eyebrow. “Come on. I’m not afraid to die, but I don’t want to spend all day doing it.”

  Talon hesitated only a moment, but it was enough.

  Enough for her gaze to start to stray toward the side of the street. Enough for him to see that the look that was not afraid, not the look of someone being flanked.

  It was waiting. She was waiting for something.

  And then he saw the dirt. The tiny, tiny mounds he hadn’t noticed before.

  His gun went off, a quick burst, and she was blown backwards into the dirt. Talon didn’t wait to see her fall, he was already in motion.

  “Aegis!”

  He was 20 yards away and Aegis was turning, didn’t see it, didn’t understand.

  “IEDs! Forward!”

  But the movements were too slow. Aegis didn’t see them yet, didn’t know which way to go.

  10 yards. He wasn’t going to make it.

  Talon heard Nyx yell a command, full throated. He could only hope she saw where the explosives were, or weren’t. For all he knew, this whole damned street was rigged to blow. The dirt wasn’t freshly moved, the Warlord’s people hadn’t planned for today. They had set the charges and waited. For all he knew, they’d planned to use this in case of a riot.

  Stupid, selfish—

  Talon grabbed Aegis with one arm and allowed momentum to pull them both into a circle. Aegis spun outward and Talon yanked him back in for both of them to crash, heavily, through the door of one of the grimy structures.

  The street went up in a roar. Heat flickered over Talon’s body and a searing pain caught him in the leg. Aegis gave an agonized yell and slumped on top of him.

  “Nyx! Medevac!”

  “Not medevac.” Her voice filtered back “We’re pulling out. I’ll be there in a sec.”

  “Goddammit, we are not pulling out!” Not now, not with blood spilled and only one of the five targets apprehended. They were going to get back on the Ariane and they were going to head for that palace. Right now.

  “C’mon, boss.” She was panting. A moment later, she skidded into sight and crouched. He was reaching a hand out to him when her head came up, scanning in the darkness behind him for some flicker of movement she must have seen.

  Talon looked as well, hand going automatically to his sidearm.

  The family huddled against the wall—not even a full family, just two scrawny children and one slightly taller woman who might be either their mother or their older sister. She stared them down with something that looked remarkably like hatred, and squared her shoulders as she held the children behind her. Her chest was rising and falling quickly.

  These people didn’t care who the Dragons were. They only knew that destruction came with them.

  It was a sobering thought. Talon stared at them for a moment as Nyx hauled Aegis upright and made her way back onto the street. She didn’t spare another glance for the three people in the house. They weren’t a threat.

  Talon levered himself up to follow. At the door, he turned back.

  “I’m sorry.” They wouldn’t hear the words behind the helmet. He let his shoulders slump as he made his way back out onto the street.

  Jacinta Nikolau’s body was hardly recognizable, as was this patch of the street, but Talon walked over haltingly to stare down at her.

  “Damn you,” he said, but even his anger was draining away into exhaustion.

  “Boss.”

  He turned to see the shuttle hovering, and Nyx on the ground beside it. Tersi, the team’s most competent medic, was already working on Aegis.

  “No,” Talon said quietly.

  But he knew what he had to do. They’d already faced a suicide attack that could have claimed any number of civilian lives. They still had no intel on the palace. They had no idea what could be coming at them next.

  The only good choice for his team was to leave.

  Again.

  “Damn you,” he said again to Jacinta’s body.

  Damn all of them. What had a woman like that seen in the Warlord?

  He turned, and made his way onto the shuttle with one swift leap, pulling Nyx up behind him. His eyes were fixed on the district as the door slid closed and the shuttle accelerated up toward the Ariane.

  “This isn’t the end.” Nyx’s voice was quiet. It was the tone she used when they compared notes over a glass of whiskey at the end of the day, poring over ship manifests and mission reports. It was the reassurance of a friend.

  At that, Talon felt the resolve wind tighter in his chest until he was sure he would ignite.

  “No,” he promised. “It’s not the end. It’s not even the fucking beginning.” He looked over at her. He couldn’t see her eyes behind the tint of the mask, but he knew her expression: calm, waiting, absolutely sure that this would work out in the long run.

  He wished he shared her confidence.

  “I’m going back to Seneca,” he told her. “I’m going to talk to Soras.”

  She said nothing, but he could practically see her eyebrows rise. Soras was Aleksander Soras, the head of Alliance Intelligence.

  There was a clank as the shuttle landed, and Aegis gave a hiss of pain nearby. Talon pulled his helmet off and stood back to let the others off the shuttle first, until only he and Nyx remained. She had taken off her helmet as well, black eyes watchful.

  “We’re going to get some answers,” Talon told her.

  He anticipated worry, or questions, or resolve. But she gave her usual mock salute, using humor to lift him out of his wallowing.

  “Getting some answers, boss.” She jumped down and headed for the armory.

  3

  “Ow! Fuck.”

  “Sit still.” Tersi did not waste any time on sympathy. His brown eyes stayed fixed on the wound he was cleaning. “It’s worse the more you move around.”

  “Well, hurry it up, then.” Talon gave him an unfriendly look.

  Tersi did not say anything, but Talon saw him hide a bit of a smile. The man had served with him for too long to be cowed by one of Talon’s tempers—and anyway, nothing compared to Nyx when it came to fighting doctors.

  On any other day, he would have been glad tha
t he could slam his way around the ship and snap at his crew and they wouldn’t take him the least bit seriously. He hated blind obedience and the sycophantic behaviors the military demanded of its soldiers. People who saluted and “sir”d tended not to last very long on the Ariane—or they changed their tune pretty quick.

  Aegis had been one of the latter, old school and gruff, unimpressed with Talon’s general refusal to follow etiquette until a few fights managed to convince the grizzled soldier that Talon was nonetheless entirely capable of commanding a team. Now the older man often greeted Talon with no more than a raised eyebrow.

  Normally, this all suited Talon just fine, but right now it meant he was not even the most intimidating thing on his own ship, and in this mood, that only pissed him off more.

  Of course, it occurred to him that with Aegis worse off in terms of injuries, Talon wasn’t the grumpiest, either. He sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck, a habit that had entrenched itself since they got their newest armor. It rubbed on the back of the neck. Talon hated it.

  Everything was annoying him right now.

  “You might as well get it over with,” Tersi suggested.

  “I’m trying, but you’re not working very fast.”

  “Not this.” Tersi pushed him back on the padded chair, hard, and held him in place while he plucked a piece of metal out of the wound. He didn’t even flinch at Talon’s yell, dropping the piece of metal onto his tray and leaning back in to scan the wound. Satisfied that there was nothing else there, he looked up at his commander. “I mean the part where you get angry about what happened down there.”

  “Do I not look angry to you right now?”

  “Angry for most people? Sure. Angry for you?” Tersi snorted. “Not at all.”

  “Go fuck yourself.”

  Tersi took a moment to rub at his jaw, where a reddish-brown stubble was in evidence. There was still grime from the surface on his forehead and in streaks down his neck. When they got back to the ship, he had tended to Aegis at once, and that had been hours ago. He had worked his way through the crew since then, leaving the more minor cases for Camorra—or, in Nyx’s case, Nyx and a bottle of whiskey.