Heart of Iron (Heart of Iron #1)(36)

“Can you lead me?” he asked again, this time sternly.

The Solani didn’t reply for a moment, and then, “Yes. I have the layout in front of me.”

“Okay, I’m going.” Robb hated to gamble his life on the hope that cutting the power source would likely disconnect these murderous Metals. Not that he had much of a choice. If he wanted to find out what had happened to his father, he had to play the game.

He turned and began to move around to the other end of the crates, closer to the wall where there was more cargo to hide behind.

“Robb,” the captain called, and he looked back to her. She gave a serious nod. “Be careful. We’ll cover you.”

In agreement, the crew gave an “Aye!”

That actually makes me feel better, he thought in surprise. He’d never imagined outlaws would have his back.

His hands shaking, he checked to see how many bullets he had left in his gun. Four. Great, four. After that, he’d have to improvise.

If he ran into any more resistance.

Knowing his luck? It was a given.

“Now!” the captain roared. The crew opened heavy fire.

Robb launched himself over the first crate as the door to the interior of the ship slid open and a Metal stepped out, flashing a hefty Messier-grade blaster. It turned its gleaming red eyes to him. He cursed and dropped like a rock behind the nearest crate. A bullet snagged the corner, pinging away with a sharp crack.

Pretend you’re at the Academy. This is just a drill, he thought. He always made better marks than the other Ironbloods. It was part of being a Valerio—you had to excel in everything. Like not dying.

He peeked over the top of the crate to see if the Metal had moved into the cargo bay. Nope. It stood, like a sentry, right in the Goddess-spitting doorway.

“Didn’t you always complain the exams were too easy?” he muttered to himself. “Might as well earn your marks now—when else will you? You’ll either die here or on that damn pirate ship.”

“Do you always talk to yourself?”

Robb jumped at the sound of Jax’s voice. “Goddess! Don’t. Do. That.”

“Sorry.” Although Jax didn’t sound sorry at all. “I created a separate comm-link for us so we won’t distract the crew. Okay, there’s a door in front of you—”

“With a Metal standing guard.”

“Let me finish,” the navigator hissed. “Now, to your left is a ventilation duct. Or there should be. Do you see it?”

Robb glanced to his left. There was a wall of steel crates—but between them there was a horizontally slatted grate, like the ones he used to crawl through on his mother’s ship when he was little. “You think I can fit through that?”

“Don’t make me crack a short joke.”

“Fine,” he grumbled, steeling his courage. His side was throbbing, but if he didn’t pull himself together he’d be worse—dead. No. He could do this. He was a Valerio, for Goddess’s sake! Valerios never died in firefights.

Holstering his gun, he unsheathed his lightsword, the hilt loose in his grip, and spun out from cover, watching where the android aimed. He deflected the bullet and leaped for the vent, tucking into a roll. A bullet pinged off the armor on his borrowed space suit, leaving a stinging hiss against his shoulder blade.

“Surrender,” the android ordered, moving out of the doorway, toward him. Its footsteps clomped on the steel floor, closer and closer.

Stabbing the grate through with his blade, Robb cut a square hole and kicked it in, then sheathed his sword. He scrambled into the vent, but the android grabbed him by the foot to drag him back out. Yelping, he slammed his other foot into its face and kept kicking. It didn’t let go.

Twisting around, he reached for his pistol in its holster, took it out, and blasted three bullets into the android. It let go and he clawed farther into the vent shaft. The robot couldn’t follow; it was too large and too heavy. It peered inside, its red eyes glowing.

It couldn’t reach in, but—in a wave of pure terror—he realized it could still shoot at him.

“Blasted festering useless Great Dark–sodding hunk of—” He rattled off a string of curses as he rolled onto his knees and shimmied around the first sharp turn in the shaft. He waited a breath. Then two.

But the android never shot.

After a moment, it turned away from the grate and clomped away.

He let out a sigh, trying to not think about his aching body. Push through it, he told himself, absently massaging the burning chip in his wrist. It had not stopped burning since dinner, and had begun to make holding a gun painful. Just moving his fingers hurt.

“Okay, Jax, I’m in the damn thing. Now where?”

“It took you long enough.”

“Shut it. Where do I go?”

“You should be able to head straight for the engineering room.”

Robb began to do as directed, then paused. “Should?”

Jax hesitated. “Well, these are supposed to be the Tsarina’s scans, but some things don’t . . . add up.”

“So what you’re saying is they’re not accurate,” he deadpanned.

“Well, that’s why it’s called an adventure.”

“Remind me to kick your ass the next time I see you.”

“A kiss’ll do.”