Liishi hit the entrance to dock 36 at a dead run, her left shoulder aching from the awkward weight of her footlocker, the load on her Tamryn 2062 pistol running low. As soon as this was over, she was killing her partner, she told herself. And nearly collided with a stack of crates sitting just inside the doorway. She spun around it, glancing over her shoulder as she did, and noticed W.B. come around the far corner behind her, chips flying from the masonry overhead.
“Move it! Move it!” he yelled. He’d lost one weapon somewhere in the chase. His bag half hung from one shoulder and the two lockers he carried banged against everything around.
Liishi winced. Some of the stuff inside those containers was fragile. She passed the crates and saw a ship in the center of the docking bay, its rear entry ramp down. She aimed for that and about that time saw Hobbs strolling down said ramp, one hand on a pistol at his belt. A suit of some sort waddled along beside him, took in the show of Liishi and W.B. running for their lives against a backdrop of laser fire, and high-tailed it back inside the ship. Literally. She noticed the being’s suit-clad tail arched up and out-of-the-way as whoever it was disappeared into the ship’s innards.
And the ship itself was big. Bigger than she’d expected for a tramp liner. No sleek lines. Rather boxy in appearance. A female knozrus was painted near the prow with the ship’s name arced rakishly beneath the image.
That was about all she noticed before a hail of gunfire clanged off the ship’s outer hull. She threw herself down. Heard W.B. doing the same a scant meter or two behind her. Off to the side, she spotted a weasel in a pin-stripe suit duck behind a dockside coolant re-fueling system. He caught her eye and tipped a wide-brimmed hat in her direction.
She rolled onto her back and, clutching her pistol two-handed fired two shots at quin coming through the distant doorway. One, she caught full in the chest, cart-wheeling him back into the pavement outside the dock. Another she clipped in the shoulder, forcing him to drop prone behind the crates she’d almost run into a moment earlier.
W.B. had scuttled toward the ramp while Hobbs had dropped to a crouch at its base and returned fire.
More quin boiled through the doorway.
Tariq, in a crouch, came down the ramp at a hustle and pulled up near where she lay. He’d tapped Hobbs on the should as he passed, directing the Bov back inside the ship. “Heard you brought a party along,” he chuckled. “That’s going to cost you extra, they mess up my ship.” He calmly drew his sidearm and just as calmly shot a quin rushing across the open space toward them.
“Not my intention,” she hissed and shot at another quin coming up behind the first. “I have no idea why a bunch of psychotic gangers would chase us here.” Then Tariq’s quick glance up and down her prostrate form snapped her attention back to her current position, and she rolled to her feet, quick loading her slug pistol as she did. “When’s our ride leave?”