Midnight City by J. Barton Mitchell Page B

away by a Vulture?
    Then again, Assembly technology, regardless of what state it was in, was invaluable in trade. Two or three plasma weapons alone could feed you for a whole year. Who knew what lay inside the wrecked ship? And if he didn’t loot the thing, someone else surely would.
    Holt calmed himself and listened. A few sounds, but nothing threatening. Just the wind in the trees, the crackle of flames. No Raptor engines, no cannon fire, no metallic stomping of Spider walker legs. Still, he waited, listening, making sure.
    The spherical craft listed again. There were more sounds of movement from inside.
    That decided it for him. Holt sprang to his feet, moved for the craft, keeping low. He shoved the SIG back into its slot, yanked loose his shotgun. Better for the close quarters inside. Max moved beside him, his eyes focused on the shadows inside the craft.
    “What are you doing?” Mira yelled down at him. “Please tell me you’re not actually thinking about going in there?”
    Holt ignored her as he moved for the ship.
    “Hey! What am I supposed to do when you get killed?” she demanded. “I’ll never get these ropes off.”
    Still, he ignored her. A few more steps and he was at the ship’s hull, cracked open like an egg. Wires and tubing spilled out of it like guts. Sparks popped and fizzed everywhere. There was a weird whirring sound that was winding down, going lower and lower in pitch. Something mechanical dying, most likely.
    Holt raised the shotgun cautiously, peering around the edge of the hull. The smoke was thick inside, pouring out in great plumes. He couldn’t see anything, had no idea what was in there. To find out, he’d have to move in.
    “ Hey !” Mira yelled in anger behind him.
    Holt tuned her out, took a deep breath, then he and Max pushed quickly through the smoke, into the strange ship’s interior.
    *   *   *
    MIRA WATCHED IN ANNOYANCE as Holt and the dog disappeared inside the strange craft. Idiots. Going inside a crashed Assembly ship had to be the heavyweight champion of bad ideas. It was a miracle they’d survived this long.
    Mira looked around at the campsite. Most of it had been thrown into disarray when the ship crashed, but she saw Holt’s cot a few feet away. Her pack was no longer under it. Instead, it had been knocked closer by the impact, and she could see the red δ just out of reach of her feet.
    Or was it?
    If she could reach it while the dynamic duo was busy being eaten inside the ship, she might be able to make this whole thing play to her advantage.
    Mira reached out with her feet, the only part of her the bounty hunter hadn’t tied to the tree. His mistake, she thought.
    Her shoe stopped just a few inches from the bag, almost there. But it wasn’t enough.
    Mira grimaced. She pulled against her bonds … and could feel the ropes give around her waist, only to feel them tighten against her arms, pulling them harder against the tree.
    If she strained hard, she might be able to loosen the ropes around her legs enough to reach the bag … at the expense of what little circulation she had left in her arms.
    It would be well worth it.
    She pulled against the ropes with all the strength she had. And then groaned in pain as they tightened hard against her arms, the sharp bark of the tree digging into her skin.
    But her legs were looser now. Mira reached for the pack again …
    … and this time she looped one of the straps around her ankle and quickly pulled it to her. She had to hurry—who knew when the bounty hunter and his smelly dog would reappear.
    With her leg, she tossed the pack backwards. It landed on the right side of the tree, just barely in reach of her hand. While Holt had tied her upper arms against the tree, he’d left her forearms free. She worked one of them out of the tight ropes, just enough to bend it.
    When she did, she reached for the pack and flipped through it with her right hand. The first thing she looked for was the cylinder. After a