Chapter 4: The Hunt Begins
The terminal hummed in the silence of the office, its black screen glowing with the coordinates and notes Jane had spilled from her memory like poison from a wound. Dave stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders, feeling the fine tremble that ran through her body as she stared at the map of her own nightmare rendered in cold blue light.
She'd given him everything. Every safe house, every route, every pattern of movement, every name she'd managed to overhear through walls and filters and the fog of sedatives. The network was vast—far vaster than he'd imagined—a hydra with heads on a dozen colonies and tentacles reaching into the core worlds. It would take an army to dismantle it, or a surgical strike so precise and so brutal that the whole rotten edifice would collapse under its own weight.
He pulled her to her feet, turning her to face him. She looked exhausted, hollowed out by the act of remembering, but there was a fire in her eyes that hadn't been there before. A hunger for vengeance that matched his own.
"We're going to need more than intel," he said, his voice low and rough. "We're going to need a way in. A cover story.A weapon."
She looked up at him, her pupils flaring, a dark and hungry smile twisting her lips. "I've been a weapon for years," she said, her voice a low, dangerous purr. "I just never got to choose where I was pointed."
She dropped to her knees in one fluid motion, her hands already working at his belt, unbuckling it with a practiced speed that made his breath catch. She pulled his trousers open, freeing his cock, which was already half-hard at the sight of her kneeling before him, her fingers wrapped around his length.
"Jane—" he started, but she cut him off with a look, a simmering and fierce look.
"I need this," she said. "I need to remind myself what it feels like to be in control. To choose what happens next." She leaned in, her tongue flicking out to trace the head of his cock, her eyes never leaving his. "And I choose this. I choose you."
She took him into her mouth, her lips sliding down his shaft, her tongue swirling around the head in a slow, deliberate circle. Dave groaned, his hand tangling in her hair, his hips twitching involuntarily. She worked him with a desperate hunger, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked him deep, taking him to the base before pulling back with a wet, obscene sound.
"Fuck, Jane," he breathed, his voice cracking. "That's—that's incredible."
She didn't answer, just hummed around him, the vibration sending a jolt of electricity through his spine. Her hands gripped his hips, holding him steady as she fell into a rhythm, bobbing her head, her tongue tracing the vein along the underside of his shaft. She pulled back, stroking him with slick fingers, her mouth never leaving him, her hand working him with a practiced and punishing rhythm.
He let her take control, his head falling back, his fingers twisting in her hair. She moved with a kind of fury, a hunger that was as much about claiming this moment as it was about giving him pleasure. She took him deep again, gagging slightly, her eyes watering, but she didn't pull back. She held him there, at the base, her throat working around him, and then she pulled away, gasping, a string of saliva connecting her lips to his cock.
"Come for me," she said, her voice raw and wrecked. "Come in my mouth. I want to taste you. I want to swallow every drop."
He didn't need any more encouragement. She wrapped her lips around him again, her hand gripping the base, stroking in time with the motion of her mouth. He came with a hoarse cry, his hips thrusting forward, his seed spilling down her throat. She swallowed, took him with a voracious hunger, and only pulled away when he was spent, collapsing against the desk behind him.
She licked her lips, wiping a drop from the corner of her mouth, and looked up at him with a feral smile. "Now," she said, her voice still rough. "Let's go kill them all."
He pulled her to her feet, kissing her hard, tasting himself on her tongue. "We need a plan," he said. "We need resources, equipment, a ship. We need to get to the Cerberus Hub without tripping any alarms."
She nodded, her mind already racing. "I know someone," she said. "A man I met during my time in the network. He was a buyer, but he wasn't like the others. He treated me like a person, not a piece of meat. He might be willing to help."Dave's jaw tightened. "You trust him?"
"I trust no one," Jane said, her voice flat. "But I know where his weaknesses lie, and I know how to exploit them. He has a ship, and he has access to the Hub. We can use him."
"Let's go see him, then. But we do this my way. We walk in armed, and we walk out on our terms."
She nodded, a grim smile on her face. "I wouldn't have it any other way."
They left the office together, the map of hell still glowing on the terminal behind them, a ghost that would haunt them until the network was ashes. The corridor was quiet, the hum of the station a constant, mechanical pulse. Jane moved close, her hand brushing his, and he took it, linking their fingers.
"Where are we going?"she asked.
"There's a ship docked on the lower deck. It belongs to a man named Mercer—a smuggler with a reputation for asking no questions."Dave's voice was steady, but his eyes were scanning the corridor, always watching. "He owes me a favor. He'll take us to wherever we need to go."
"A smuggler?"Jane's eyebrow arched. "You trust him?"
"I trust him to follow his own self-interest," Dave said. "And right now, his self-interest aligns with ours. He has debts—dangerous ones—and I have the power to clear them."
She smiled, a hard and cold expression. "Good. Let's go collect what's owed."
They moved through the station's lower decks, the gleaming chrome and neon of the casino giving way to industrial corridors and exposed wiring. The air grew thicker, heavier, scented with lubricant and unwashed bodies. This was the underside of New Vegas, where the desperate and the dangerous congregated, where secrets were traded like currency and trust was a luxury no one could afford.
A man emerged from a doorway ahead, tall and broad with a scarred face and a heavy jacket. He saw Dave and tensed, his hand moving toward the weapon holstered at his thigh.
"Callahan," he said, his voice a low growl. "You're a long way from your ivory tower."
"Mercer." Dave's voice was flat, his hand resting on his own sidearm. "I need a ship. And I need you to ask no questions."
Mercer's eyes flicked to Jane, taking in her appearance—the borrowed clothes, the bruises, the feral glitter in her eyes. "This is about the women, isn't it?" he said. "The ones going missing from the outer colonies."
Dave didn't answer. He just stared at Mercer, his expression cold.
Mercer let out a long breath, his shoulders sagging slightly. "I've heard rumors. Bad ones. People say the network has fingers everywhere, that even the core worlds aren't safe." He shook his head. "I've got a debt to my name that your security can clear. You get me out from under it, and I'll take you wherever you need to go. No questions asked."
"Deal," Dave said, extending his hand. Mercer took it, his grip firm and calloused.
"We leave at dawn," Mercer said. "Be on the lower dock at first light, or I'm gone."
Dave nodded, and Mercer turned, disappearing back into the shadows. Jane let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.
"He's in," she said.
"He's pragmatic," Dave corrected. "Which is the next best thing."
They made their way back up through the station, the neon glow of the casino wrapping around them like a familiar shroud. The sounds of laughter and gambling filled the air, the clatter of chips, the hum of slot machines, the distant throb of music. It was a place of forgetting, of distraction, of escape—and they were both long past the point of needing any of that.
Dave's quarters felt like a sanctuary when they finally stepped inside, the door hissing shut behind them. He turned to Jane, pulling her into his arms, his mouth finding hers in a kiss that was deep and searching and full of all the words they hadn't said.
She melted into him, her hands gripping his shirt, pulling him closer. "I'm scared," she whispered against his lips. "I've been scared for so long, I don't know what it feels like to be anything else."
He pulled back, cupping her face in his hands. "You don't have to be brave with me. You don't have to be anything but what you are. And what you are is the strongest woman I've ever met."
A tear slipped down her cheek. She didn't wipe it away. "If this goes wrong, if we don't make it out—"
"Then we die fighting," he said. "But we don't die alone. We don't die in chains. We die free, together."
She nodded, her chest hitching with a sob she refused to let out. He pulled her close, holding her against him, feeling her heart beating against his.
"We need to rest," he murmured. "Tomorrow, we start the next chapter. Tomorrow, we go hunting."
They stripped off their clothes and climbed into bed, their bodies tangling together beneath the sheets. He held her from behind, his chest pressed to her back, his arm wrapped around her waist, his hand splayed over her stomach. She sighed, relaxing into him, her body finally surrendering to exhaustion.
"Dave," she whispered, her voice barely audible."Mm?"
"Thank you. For believing me. For believing in me."
He kissed the back of her neck, a tender, lingering press. "I'd walk through fire for you, Jane. I'd burn the whole galaxy down if it meant keeping you safe."
She was silent for a long time, her breathing evening out as sleep claimed her. He lay awake, staring at the stars through the viewport, his mind racing with plans and contingencies and the weight of everything they were about to do.
The Cerberus Hub was a fortress. But fortresses had weak points, and he was a man who knew how to find them.
He closed his eyes, letting the rhythm of her breathing anchor him, and allowed himself to drift toward sleep.
Tomorrow, the hunt began.
The first light of the station's artificial dawn crept through the viewport, a pale imitation of sunlight that did nothing to dispel the shadows clinging to the corners of Dave's quarters. Jane lay curled against him, her breathing slow and deep, her fingers loosely tangled in the fabric of the sheet. He watched her sleep, traced the curve of her shoulder, the hollow of her throat, the faint pulse beating beneath her skin, and felt the weight of everything they were about to do settle into his bones.
She stirred, her eyes fluttering open, meeting his with a clarity that hadn't been there before. "You're watching me again."
"Can't help it." He brushed a strand of hair from her face. "Every time I look at you, I see something I missed the last time."
She smiled, a soft and fragile expression that made his chest ache. "We should get moving. Mercer won't wait forever."
He kissed her forehead and swung his legs out of bed, the cold deck biting at his feet. They dressed in silence, a partnership of movement that felt more intimate than any words. Dave strapped on his sidearm, checked the load, and pulled on his jacket. Jane found a pair of his cargo pants and a tight black thermal shirt, rolling the sleeves and cinching the waist with a length of cord she found in his drawer.
"Not exactly my style," she said, catching her reflection in the viewport. "But it'll do."
"You look like you mean business."
"I do."
They moved through the station's lower decks, the industrial corridors growing darker and more crowded as they descended. Smugglers and mercenaries and desperate souls watched them pass with wary eyes, but no one challenged them. Dave's uniform and sidearm were enough to keep the wolves at bay, and Jane's hard-eyed stare could have cut glass.
Mercer's ship was a battered freighter called the Salt Harvest, its hull scarred and patched and coated in decades of grime. The ramp was down, and Mercer stood at the top, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder and a look of impatient expectation on his face.
"You're late," he said.
"By two minutes," Dave replied. "You gonna quibble, or you gonna let us board?"
Mercer's lips twitched, something almost like a smile. "Get on board. We're burning daylight."
The ship's interior was cramped, cluttered with crates and fuel canisters and the detritus of a hard-lived life. Mercer led them to a small cabin with two bunks, a table bolted to the floor, and a viewport that offered a breathtaking glimpse of the void.
"Make yourselves comfortable. It's a two-day jump to the Cerberus Hub's outer perimeter. After that, you're on your own."
"We'll manage," Jane said, her voice flat.
Mercer nodded and disappeared toward the cockpit, leaving them alone in the dim, humming silence.
Dave dropped his bag on one of the bunks and turned to Jane. She stood by the viewport, her arms wrapped around herself, staring at the stars with an expression he couldn't quite read."You okay?"
"I've been on ships like this before," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Ships that were taking me somewhere I didn't want to go. It's strange being on one that's taking me where I choose."
He crossed the room, standing close behind her, his hands finding her shoulders. "You're not the same woman who was on those ships. You're stronger now. You're free."
She turned, pressing her forehead against his chest, her hands gripping his shirt. "I don't feel free. I feel like I'm still running, still hiding, still waiting for the other shoe to drop."
He tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his eyes. "Then we make it so. We go to the Hub, we find the people at the top, and we end this. Not for me. For you, and for every other woman they've taken."
She kissed him, a hard and desperate kiss that tasted of salt and fear and determination. He pulled her closer, his hands sliding down her back, gripping her ass, lifting her onto the edge of the bolted-down table. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him against her, grinding her hips against the growing hardness in his trousers.
"Fuck me," she breathed, her voice raw. "Fuck me like it's the last time. Like there's no tomorrow, no mission, no Cerberus Hub. Just us."
He didn't need a second invitation. He stripped her out of the borrowed clothes, tossing them aside, his mouth finding her breasts, her throat, her stomach. She moaned, arching against him, her fingers fisting in his hair, pulling him closer. He dropped to his knees, burying his face between her legs, his tongue finding her already slick and swollen and aching for him.
"God, yes," she gasped, her hips bucking against his mouth. "Right fucking there. Don't stop."He didn't stop. He licked and sucked and probed, driving her higher, his fingers sliding inside her, curling and stroking. She came with a cry, her thighs clamping around his head, her hands gripping the edge of the table hard enough to turn her knuckles white. He rose and drove into her in a single, brutal thrust, his cock sinking deep, her slick heat clenching around him.
"Fuck," she hissed, her eyes rolling back. "Yes, yes, yes—"
He fucked her hard, a punishing rhythm born of fear and rage and desperate need. She took it, took everything he had, her body meeting his thrust for thrust, her nails raking down his back, drawing blood. He growled, his hands gripping her hips, pulling her onto him, deeper, harder.
"Come for me," he gritted out. "Come on my cock."
She screamed—raw and ragged and wrecked—her body convulsing around him, her inner walls milking him, pulling him over the edge with her. He came with a hoarse cry, his seed spilling deep inside her, his body shuddering with the force of his release. He collapsed against her, his forehead pressed to hers, their breath coming in ragged, gasping unison.
For a long moment, neither of them moved. The only sounds were the hum of the ship and the thundering of their hearts.
Then, slowly, Jane pushed him back, her eyes meeting his. There was a fire in them now, a fierce and unyielding resolve that hadn't been there before. "You're right," she said. "I'm not the same woman.I'm stronger. And I'm going to prove it."
They dressed in silence, their movements urgent but precise. The ship shuddered as Mercer engaged the engines, and the New Vegas Space Station receded in the viewport, a glittering bauble swallowed by the vast, indifferent dark.
Jane stood at the viewport, watching their old world disappear. "Tell me about the Hub," she said. "Tell me what we're walking into."
Dave joined her, his shoulder brushing hers. "It's a space station, carved out of a captured asteroid. It sits on the fringe of the Kuiper Belt, far from any trade route or patrol lane. It's not on any official chart, and its defense systems are military-grade, rumored to be salvaged from a decommissioned warship."
"Sounds charming."
"It's a fortress," Dave continued, ignoring her sarcasm, "with a permanent population of about five thousand—bounty hunters, mercenaries, slavers, and the bastards who buy and sell them. There's a central market where they auction off the merchandise, a ring of private berths for the big spenders, and a core of residential quarters where the leadership lives."
"How do we get in?"
"We don't. Not directly." Dave pulled up a holographic schematic on a small console, the image of the Hub rotating slowly in the air between them. "We come in as traders, flying a cargo of rare minerals from the outer belt. Mercer has the credentials to land us in the commercial docks. From there, we're just another face in the crowd."And then?"
"And then we find the people at the top. We find the ones who run the network, and we put a bullet in each of their skulls." Jane's eyes gleamed, a cold and hungry light. "I like that plan."
"Seems like everyone's a fucking planner," Mercer said from the doorway, a mug of coffee in his hand. He looked at them, his expression unreadable. "You two are either the bravest people I've ever met, or the stupidest. Haven't decided which."
"Maybe both," Jane said, her voice flat. "Ask us again after we're done."
Mercer grunted. "You've got about forty hours until we hit the outer perimeter. Get some rest. You're gonna need it."
He disappeared back toward the cockpit, leaving them alone with the hum of the engines and the endless, hungry dark. Jane turned back to the viewport, her reflection ghostly in the glass. "Forty hours," she said. "Then we go to hell."
Dave stood beside her, his hand finding hers. "Then we go to hell together."
The ship's engines settled into a steady, thrumming rhythm that vibrated through the deck plates and into their bones. Jane stood at the viewport for a long time after her words faded, watching the stars stretch and blur as the Salt Harvest pushed toward the edge of the system. Dave watched her from the bunk, the rise and fall of her shoulders, the way her fingers pressed flat against the cold glass as if she could feel the void beyond.
She turned, finally, her arms crossed. "Forty hours is a lot of time to think. Thinking's the one thing I've never been good at doing while waiting."
"Then don't think." Dave swung his legs off the bunk, crossed to the small galley bolted into the corner of the cabin, and pulled out two ration packs. He tossed one to her."Eat. Then we go over the details again."
She caught it one-handed, her movements swift and certain. "You think repetition's going to make me forget what we're walking into?"
"No. But it'll make sure you don't forget anything that matters when the shooting starts."
She tore open the pack, grimacing at the synthetic paste inside. "You've done this before. Killed people, walked into hostile territory, come out the other side."
"I've done things like it. Not exactly like this." He bit into a protein bar, chewing slowly, his eyes fixed on her. "The Hub is a different species of animal. It's not a battlefield. It's a pit of vipers, and the vipers all know each other."
"So we don't go in playing their game. We go in playing ours." She scraped a glob of paste onto her finger and ate it, grimacing. "We find the snake handler and cut off the head."
Dave nodded, a slow and deliberate motion. "And then we burn the pit."
They spent the next hours going over the schematic, tracing the Hub's corridors and berths and market spaces. Jane's memory was a meticulous and brutal catalogue—every guard rotation, every blind spot, every ventilation shaft big enough for a person to squeeze through. Dave listened, asked questions, pushed back where her knowledge was thin, and built the bones of a plan.
Mercer appeared at the cabin door as the ship's artificial night cycle dimmed the lights. "We're on approach. The Hub's hailing us, demanding a manifest and a clearance code."
Dave rose, his hand already moving toward his sidearm. "What did you tell them?"
"That we're a salvage rig with a load of refined iridium and a buyer waiting for delivery." Mercer's eyes flicked to Jane, then back to Dave. "They buy the story, we dock. They don't, we've got maybe twenty minutes before their guns warm up."
Jane straightened, her jaw setting. "We'll make them buy it."
The ship's passage through the outer rim was a tense and silent affair. Jane sat in the co-pilot's seat, watching the viewport as the Cerberus Hub grew from a point of light into a hulking, angular mass of steel and rock. It was uglier than the schematics suggested, covered in scars and antennae and weapons emplacements that glinted in the distant starlight.
"Keep your hands visible," Mercer muttered as a console beeped, a channel opening. The voice that filled the cabin was flat and mechanical, filtered through a scrambler.
"Salt Harvest, you are cleared for docking bay seven. Do not deviate from the designated approach path. Any deviation will be met with lethal force."
"Copy that, Hub control." Mercer's voice was smooth, laced with a practiced diffidence. "We're on your vector."
The ship drifted forward, the Hub filling the viewport until it blotted out the stars. Jane felt the subtle vibration of docking clamps engaging, the hiss of pressures equalizing. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.
"Welcome to the belly of the beast," Mercer said, killing the engines.
Dave stood, checking his sidearm for the fourth time. "Let's go meet the devils."
The airlock cycled open, revealing a corridor of bare steel and harsh fluorescent light. The smell hit them first—a mixture of ozone, unwashed bodies, and the metallic tang of old blood. Jane stepped through, her eyes scanning, cataloging, her hand resting on the concealed knife she'd strapped to her thigh.
A woman waited at the end of the corridor, tall, lean, with a shaved head and a military bearing that set Dave's teeth on edge. Her uniform was unmarked, but the sidearm on her hip was polished and well-maintained. She regarded them with a cold, flat gaze.
"State your business on the Hub."
"Delivering iridium to a buyer in the commercial sector," Mercer said, falling into his role. "Got the manifest and the docking fee wired to your account."
The woman didn't look at Mercer. Her eyes fixed on Jane, studying her with an uncomfortable intensity. "She's not on the manifest."
"New crew. We picked her up at a settlement on the fringe." Mercer shrugged, a practiced gesture. "Cheap labor, you know how it is."
The woman's gaze lingered on Jane's face, on the hollows of her cheeks, the old scar at her hairline. Jane met her eyes without flinching, her own stare cold and unyielding.
"Follow me," the woman said finally, turning on her heel. "You have four hours to complete your business. After that, you're off the Hub."
They followed her through the maze of corridors, past hulking freight docks and the distant sounds of a marketplace. The Hub was a hive of activity, but the activity was hushed, furtive, as if everyone here knew they were being watched. Jane's eyes flicked to every face, every shadow, cataloging exits and threats.
The cargo hold was a vast, echoing cavern, filled with containers and machinery, the air thick with dust and the sounds of distant labor. Their crates were there, stacked exactly as they'd been loaded, and a small crane was already maneuvering to unload them.
"Get your goods and get out," the woman said, and disappeared back the way they'd come.
Dave watched her go, then turned to Jane. She was staring at a stack of containers at the far end of the hold, her face pale, her fists clenched at her sides.
"He's here," she whispered. "The man from Venus. The one who bought me the first time."
Dave moved closer, his voice low. "Where?"
"Third stack from the left. The one with the yellow stripe." Her voice was shaking, but her eyes were dry, burning with a cold fire. "I remember his voice. I'd know it anywhere."
Dave's hand rested on her shoulder. "Then we find out why he's here, and we make him pay for every second of it."
A sound echoed across the hold, the clatter of heavy footsteps on metal grating. A group of men emerged from the shadows, armed and armored, their faces obscured by helmets and scarves. They moved toward the crates, weapons ready, their posture radiating a casual and lethal confidence.
Dave's hand moved toward his sidearm, but a voice cut through the hold before he could draw.
"Hold your fire. I'm not here to start a fight."
The speaker was a man in a long black coat, his face lean and sharp, his hair silvered at the temples. He stepped through the line of armed men, his eyes fixed on Jane with a predator's focus.
"So. You survived after all."