Junkyard Cats - Faith Hunter Page 0,49
is out of the Mammoth, disable all remaining biological forms. Do not damage the vehicles or the mini-tank. I want that scrap.”
“Disable?” Jagger asked.
I shrugged slightly. “Interesting weapons in the B/B Three array. It stops all biological functions.”
“B/B Three array? Wa’s at?”
I didn’t respond.
“Wait. B/B . . . Thasss Bug tech. No one hasss Bug tech,” Jagger said. His tongue wasn’t working properly. He blinked several times, confused. “No one hasss B/B Three Array,” he insisted. “Thasss Bug weapon.”
I wondered if the Bugs had shot down the SunStar. Or helped the PRC or the Ruskies shoot it down. It made sense if the Bug ship had followed the SunStar down and somehow ended up crashing too. There was an empty Bug exoskeleton in the lower level, jointed legs and droopy antennae and empty eye sockets. I never went down there. It was creepy.
The Bugs would end me if they found out that my office was an actual Bug ship. I had Bug tech, Bug weapons, and the US Space Ship SunStar here. But the Bugs were another problem for another time. If I lived that long.
“With just the Mammoth sold on the black market, I can pay off my bills.”
Jagger blinked several times, his eyes red and dry. “You can’t acquire or sell military scrap without proper sealsss.”
“Black market doesn’t need Gov. seals.” Mentally, I nudged him. “Think about the MS Angels attack. The Angels are our enemies.”
I pushed harder.
“We need to kill the Angels,” he said, his mouth far too relaxed, his too-bright eyes focusing on the mid-distance. His color was a bloated bright red and there was a white ring around his mouth where the circulation was altering. His fever was high and he wasn’t sweating. My funky nanobots were taking over his system. The med-bay couldn’t help him anymore, not with this.
“Ninety-second warning,” Jolene said.
“Go to sleep,” I whispered to Jagger. “Everything is over. The Angels are all dead and you can rest. Rest. Sleep . . .”
Jagger stood in a faster-than-human move and nearly got shot for his speed, Gomez’s auto-dart system aimed at his right eye. But Jagger walked with purpose to my bed and shoved the cats to the side. The big guy fell into the sheets. The cat-purring nearly overpowered the human snores.
“Tuffs? Is the spy cat away from the invader vehicle?”
Tuffs leapt onto the table and lay down, the picture of unconcern. I figured that meant her great-great-great-granddaughter was safe.
“Mateo, you got the three invaders?”
“I have one, Little Girl. The bleeder died before I got there, and the male died fighting. The female’s in bad shape but the med-bay should fix her right up.”
“Bring her in,” I said.
Sliding into the Command seat I said to the Bug AI, “Gomez. Initiate B/B Three array.”
“According to Jolene, there is a military satellite overhead,” Gomez said. “If you fire, they will see the energy signature.”
“Wait, you’re still talking to Jolene?”
“Communications were initiated forty-seven minutes and eleven seconds ago and are ongoing.”
“Great,” I breathed, lying, because it wasn’t a good thing at all. “Jolene, recommendations?”
“Darlin’, I been scanning Gomez’s available weapons and I think I may have to marry him. I loooove big guns.”
I laughed again, that odd, unfamiliar sensation and emotion.
Jolene said, “According to Gomez’s scanners, our attackers have indeed repaired their tires, track systems, and engines. Them boys are powering up for an imminent attack and you need your shields. Bug shields are less likely to be seen by recon satellites than Bug weapons. I recommend you bring up shields and let the invaders expend ammunition against them for a while. That gives you time to stabilize your power levels and question the CO’s prisoner. Plus, it gives the satellite time to descend below the horizon, which will allow you to use Gomez’s sexy weapons systems. From the time the first satellite descends below the horizon and the time that the next one rises, you will have four minutes, forty-eight seconds to fire all weapons and go dark.”
That was a tight timeline to destroy my attackers.
“Open up,” Mateo said into my earbud.
I slapped the airlock open and Mateo placed a woman inside. I closed the outer airlock and opened the med-bay, scooped out the mostly-healed cats, placing the felines on Jagger’s belly. Making sure the cats were out of the way, I opened the inner airlock. Dragged the woman inside. Her suit had instituted pneumatic anti-shock protocols. Mateo had not been kind to her. She stank of blood, urine, sweat, pain, and Devil Milk.