Crack in the Kill Code (AmpCore #2)

07 - Corpsethief

He followed Nevay to the barge.

Kirk could feel the sweat beading on his cheeks, his hands strangling the grip of the pistol as he moved. The barge bobbed there, half-drunk, its heavy hull clunking faintly against the jetty. Whoever'd ridden it here hadn't bothered to mag-anchor it. He could just see a few haphazard coils of wire lashing it in place, and an extended gangplank that edged to and fro.

Ahead of him, Nevay took slow, silent steps, one foot over the other, her pistol raised. Her usual breezy, brash demeanour was gone now, replaced by a tense silence. The cybernetic of her eye whirred and scanned, hunting for any signs of life.

They reached the gangplank.

"Take a look," Nevay said quietly, nodding to the barge.

"Me?" He looked at her askance. "I don't want to go over there."

"I'll cover you."

"Well, why don't I cover you?"

"Because I'm a better shot."

Kirk pulled a sour face and regarded the barge grimly. "Shit. Fine."

"No heroics, Balfour. Just take a look around. If there's a codewraith in the brig, run like hell."

"Oh, thanks for that." He shot her an irate glance, then stuffed the pistol back into his belt and took a deep breath, moving square on to the gangplank. Waiting for the barge's gentle undulation to bring it back towards him, he steadied himself, then hopped off the jetty.

His feet hit the metal of the gangplank and he folded down into a crouch, gripping the sides with both hands. The echo of his landing sounded horribly in the eerie quiet of the ferry terminal, but he tried not to think about that, instead shuffling forward in a half-crawl until he reached the barge itself.

Keeping low, Kirk gripped each side of the entrance where where gangplank met the vessel, and with a grunt of effort, levered himself through the gap. He lowered his feet to the deck as slowly as he could, sinking quietly into a crouch. Swallowing hard, he pulled his pistol out again and looked left and right.

He instantly saw the smears of dried blood on the ship. No bodies, or even body parts here, but the evidence of violence was clear enough. Kirk rose, rotating on the spot. He could see scrapes and bullet marks all over the deck and the steering cabin, along with more tracts of blood.

"Anything?" Nevay called softly.

"Dead hulk." Kirk shook his head, edging out towards the prow. "Nobody's home." He stooped examining some of the blood.

It was totally dry now. Whoever had once owned this ship, he suspected they were long dead. That only lent credence to Nevay's theory of the salvager bringing an unwanted tag-along back from Hadrian, and he didn't like that one bit. At length, he looked back over at his companion.

"Lots of blood. Think your friend Maddie had some unwelcome stowaways."

Nevay grimaced. "Maddie was never stupid enough for that."

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning, maybe she stuck her nose a little deeper than she should have." Nevay craned her neck. "Something killed her and took the ship."

"Took the ship?" Kirk shook his head dubiously. "Everything in Hadrian South's supposed to be a feral junk-heap. Could they even do that?"

"Operative phrase being, 'supposed to be', Kirk."

"Ah." He moved further, poking his head into the steering house. The glass was virtually painted with gore, and cracked where something heavy had slammed into it. He could smell metal and chemicals, an acrid tang that made his throat burn. Covering his mouth with one hand, he leaned closer, examining the controls.