He took up position and joined her in keeping the guards from advancing. “Give it a microsecond.”

“We don’t have—” Explosions shook the air. She threw herself down onto the ground, taking cover, then glanced up when she saw the threat wasn’t to her or Nils. “The hells?”

The automated sentries had fired on each other and then detonated in small novas of sparks and metal. Only burning piles of scrap remained.

“A device I built,” he explained. “It scrambles E-grade circuitry, which the sentries clearly had.”

Celene stared up at him, admiration in her silver eyes. It quickly disappeared behind cool efficiency.

He held his hand out to her, and held his breath, waiting for the touch of her skin to his.

She eyed his hand, then stood up on her own. He stifled his disappointment.

“What if we encounter something that isn’t E-grade?”

“Modifications can be made in the field.”

Her nod was clipped, her expression opaque. What’d he expect? Her arms thrown around him as she showered him with praise? Celene was legendary. She expected not just competence, but excellence—from herself and her squad members. Clearly, he had big boots to fill.

Fortunately, he wore very large boots.

A control panel was embedded in the wall beside the front entrance. A quick visual assessment told him that this wasn’t a simple monolevel security system, but a polyplatform defense mechanism. He moved in to hack the computer’s security protocol, but stepped back in surprise as she beat him to it.

She stared at the panel in edged concentration and her fingers flew over the keys. A moment later, the thick door slid open.

Seeing his look of amazement, she grinned. “NerdWorks hasn’t cornered the market on tech savvy.”

Her grin faded when plasma blasts shot through the open doorway. She became the focused soldier once more. Within the chamber were armed human guards. Celene took up position on one side of the door while he took the other side and dropped to one knee. They fired back at the guards, Celene taking the higher targets, Nils aiming for the lower ones.

“The structure’s ground floor,” he catalogued as he shot. “A single, large chamber. Staircase at the far end, metal cargo crates scattered throughout. Must be a storage facility. Six guards armed with plasma blasters. Five,” he amended as Celene took out one of the guards.

“Hey, NerdWorks,” she snapped at him, “keep your play-by-play in your head. Can’t think with your intel spurting all over me.”

How was he was supposed to think when she put images like that in his head?

She jerked her head toward a row of crates inside and they both sped toward the waiting cover. The firefight continued as the guards blocked the path to the second level. He took down one sentry, Celene the other. He allowed himself a moment’s confidence. Practice several times a week on the firing sim ensured that he could hit a moving target from a distance of over a hundred meters. All he needed to do was wait the guards out, and between him and Celene, they’d quickly clear the area, leaving the way free to the objective on the second floor.

After ducking to avoid a volley of plasma fire, he leaned up and took aim. Celene did the same. Just then, one of the guards triggered a device on his gauntlet. An invisible pulse of energy swept through the chamber.

Whatever the guard had activated, Nils didn’t like it. The most dangerous weapons were often the ones you couldn’t see. He aimed and fired.

Or tried to fire. Nothing shot from his blaster, not a plasma burst, not even a spark.

“Fucking escumalhabeast.” Celene glared at her now useless blaster. She shoved it back into her thigh holster and crouched down behind the crates.

He hunkered beside her. “I can take the weapons apart, subvert the malfunction.”

“No time. Any minute, they’re going to rush us.”

His mind spun through the many possibilities as he scanned the environment. Though everything within SimCom was computer generated, it still behaved according to the laws of science.

“There’s delinium chloride in that flame containment canister. I can combine it with—”

She shook her head. “Again, not enough time.”

He scowled. In the absence of a functioning weapon, there had to be something he could do. “Suggestions?”

Celene grinned, and she was once again an intoxicating amalgam of beautiful and dangerous. “We use the best weapons we’ve got.” She tapped her head. “This, and—” she held up her curled fists, “—these.”

“I—”

“Guard my back.” And then she was gone, vaulting over the crates in a blur of motion.

“Damn it.” He wanted more time to think, to prepare, but he holstered his weapon and followed. He ducked behind another row of crates to avoid more blaster fire. The storage containers were staggered throughout the chamber, and he saw Celene diving from one to another, closing in on the guards.

Three of the armed enemy, two of him and Celene, with no weapons. An uneven match, yet she continued to get nearer. He’d have thought her completely out of her mind if he wasn’t busy marveling at her sheer bravado.

If he wanted on this mission, he had to match her audacity with his own.

But simply rushing the guards wouldn’t get the job done. He looked up, searching for inspiration.

Lighting fixtures suspended from cables lined the ceiling. He scanned for an object to throw, but nothing was in reach. He had to act fast, because the guards were edging closer to him and Celene. A projectile was needed, something big and heavy.

His boots. He remembered the supply officer’s comment when he’d come in to replace them. Gods, Calder, you could canoe the damned Light River of Kitara in your boot. Nils had to custom order his gloves too. For a member of Engineering Corps, he had some damned big appendages.

He tore at the straps and buckles of his boots and tugged them off as soon as they were loose enough. Then he leaped up and threw them, one and then the other, at the lighting fixtures.

The boots slammed into the lights. Sparks rained down on the advancing enemy. Celene seized the distraction, just as he’d hoped. She sprinted forward and kicked the gun out of a guard’s hand, then spun to ram her elbow into another guard’s shoulder, forcing him to drop his weapon.

Nils leaped into the fray, feeling the hard concrete floor beneath his feet and trying not to feel too vulnerable without his boots. He tackled the third guard. They rolled on the floor, fighting for the gun. Blocking the enemy’s blows, he shoved his forearm under the guard’s chin, forcing his head back and cutting off his air. Choking, enraged, the guard fought hard. Nils pried the gun from his hand. Using the butt of the weapon, he struck the guard across the face. His assailant went limp, unconscious.

Tucking the blaster into his belt, Nils rolled to his feet and saw Celene battling with the other guards. His mouth hung open. She was as ferocious and beautiful as a Samalian lightning wolf, nothing but speed and deadly intent. Though two guards kept charging at her, she held them back with kicks and punches, almost dance-like in her movements.

But this was no solo performance. She had a partner, and he needed to prove that he deserved on the mission. He couldn’t shoot, not without risking hitting her, leaving him with just one option.

One of the guards stumbled back, repelled by her kick. Nils launched himself at the enemy. He traded blows with the guard and then fought for breath when the enemy’s fist connected with his ribs. He remembered the countless hours he spent training and launched into a combination he had practiced so often it became instinct. A kick, two jabs, an uppercut. The guard dodged some of his strikes, but the others hit home. With a final hit to the jaw, the enemy went down.

He spun when he heard a groan. Celene stood over the prone body of a guard, her hands still raised in a defensive position, her body poised and ready. When the enemy stirred, she dropped to a knee and slammed her fist into his face. He twitched, then went still.