Alien Alliance Box Set

underneath gave it buoyancy and allowed the jet fans from behind to send it skimming over any surface. If that cushion ever went batshit, the boat would turn it into a dead weight, as heavy as a stone and lose its lift. Regers was surprised this thing was still moving at the speed it was.
Flip’s blue-grey eyes darted out the shattered window to the sky then back to the hostages. He took Biggs aside. “There’s too many of them to cover. They make an all-out rush on us next time trouble hits, they could sack us.”
“He’s right,” Gila muttered. “If we’re going to have air strikes on our asses, best we thin the herd. Unless you think Regers’ gonna keep ’em back with his muscles and Medusa stare?”
“Get rid of some of the troublemakers,” growled Biggs. “Throw them overboard.” He flicked up his rifle.
Flip licked his lips.
“Well?”
“If you say so, Biggs.”
Flip made a quick-pick selection, herding about a third of the passengers to starboard deck. Regers hoped the hell Marise kept her head down. He didn’t have much to worry about as they left the choicest females alone, Marise one of them. She wrung her wrists, her face pale and sick with terror. Regers avoided any eye contact. He didn’t want to attract attention her way.
Choko assisted Flip. The two took the chosen to the deckside rail and butted them into the water, one by one. Regers caught glimpses of shark fin and tail and human arms thrashing amidst screams of pure terror. Those that broke loose got gunned down. They tossed the bloodied corpses over the railing. None had any chance of surviving those shark-infested waters on an impossible swim miles to the shore.
Regers stared in mute incomprehension. A daze fogged his brain, further numbed by the bam and the thugs’ reckless disregard for human life. Mass murder carried out by the most deranged psychopaths. No better than war criminals, murderers who gassed victims. They must all be jacked on Devirol. The little he’d taken made everything seem a little dreamy around the edges. Still, his mind kept wandering—to that little satchel of pellets in Chok’s pocket, craving more. Regers wondered how long he’d last before it was his turn to die. He must have gotten caught in a seconds’ too long daze because Choko blared at him, “What you looking at?” He aimed his gun at Regers’ chest.
Regers remained stone-faced.
“You a dumb mute? Spit it out, fuck boy.”
“Much easier to kill than preserve the human species, eh Choko?”
“What’s that? You a wise guy? Hey, boss, Regers turning into some kind of preacher.”
Biggs came sauntering up, staring at Regers. He gazed for some time, his intense grey-brown eyes taking in every detail of Regers’ physique: the cocky stance, the scarred fists, the lean tone of hardened muscle, and the cool phlegmatic gaze. He laughed. “No preacher, Choko. This man’s a merc, as I told you. As black-hearted as they come. My kind of guy. Someone we can use right now.”
Choko snorted. “Yeah, you guys can be bum buddies for all I care.”
“Hey, watch the language. It’s me you’re talking to, remember?”
Choko strode off, grumbling.
Biggs turned to Regers with a frown. “Can’t trust you with a gun, Regers. But you can still play soldier boy with the chicken stooges here on board. Play washroom-duty when they beg pretty please to relieve their bladders. He ripped off a chunk of twisted metal from the railing and threw it at Regers. Regers caught it in a calloused hand.
“Use this to keep the natives in line. Any one of these fuckers so much as blinks or steps out of line, beat the shit out of them.”
Regers fingered the metal, grimly licking his lips, not saying a word. Play along, Regers. Wait your chance.
They assembled back in the passenger area, Gila and Choko watching the thinned out hostage base and Regers doing washroom detail.
Marise flashed glances at Regers with loathing in her eyes. He avoided her gaze, keeping his ice-cold expression neutral. Biggs was watching. Any sign of leniency would spell the end for him. Especially with Choko breathing down his neck like a fucking ghoul.
Biggs prodded him in the ribs. “Got your lusty eye on that freya over there, don’t you, Reg-boy? Snazzy piece of ass. Can’t blame you. I’d have a hard on too.” He gave a huff of sardonic laughter. “If all works out and we’re still standing by the end of this, you can take that bitch home, use her as a pegboard.”
Regers remained deadpan. Right after I drive your face back into your brain, fucker!
As for kiss and make up with Marise, Regers doubted much that chance would ever happen given what was about to go down. This was only going to get worse. Either way, he did not like the lascivious glint in Choko’s eyes as he raked them over her body.
Some time passed and a narrow window of opportunity presented itself. Biggs at stern, worried over the damaged propellers. Gila watched the pilot cabin. Choko was absent, probably in the loo jacking off. Flip, punishing some babbling, white-faced freya who had yakked all over the guy seated next to him, was preoccupied.
The ‘package’ was untended in the locker area at the back. Regers didn’t know how it worked or exactly what it was capable of, only that it radiated pure evil, an instrument of death coveted by gangsters. A weapon they’d fight and kill over. Just a few steps, a grab and a toss and it’d be a hundred fathoms down. Fucking thing had caused too much bloodshed.
On cat feet he snuck to the back, opened the rear compartment where Biggs had stowed it. Casually, he grabbed the cardboard casing, closed the door and lugged its awkward bulk to the starboard deck, farthest away from prying eyes. The thing