by A. R. Knight
“Have one thing to take care of!” I shout back towards the ship, though I have no idea if T’Oli can hear me.
In any case, I run towards Malo’s limp form. I’m not leaving him.
Ignos, with Viera working towards him, turns and runs. The battered body can still move with all six claws and talons pushing in concert. Viera tries a shot, misses left as Ignos juts beneath a resting spacecraft and keeps going.
I’m getting close to Malo, calling his name, and I don’t like that he’s not moving. There’s a chill starting in my spine that I don’t like, a reality growing I refuse to acknowledge.
He’s a meter away when a bright flash splits the docking area, lancing ahead of me into the wall and shattering the rock. It’s followed by a second shot, a red color, that slags the floor in front of me, turns the metal floor into molten soup.
“They won’t miss a second time!” T’Oli calls.
“Kaishi!” Viera yells, heading towards T’Oli’s ship. “Get him and go!”
I jump over the damaged floor, then dive towards Malo as another flash lights up the world ahead of me. Strikes the wall where Malo’s lying, blasting rocks, metal, and worse all over him.
I start to scramble forward when pink metal slides in front of me, cutting me off from Malo’s body. A door is open in the bottom of the craft, a thin ramp sliding down from it. My right foot plants and I jump, getting over the ramp and heading right towards Malo’s body when something catches me, grabs hold of the robe I’m still wearing and pulls me back onto the ramp.
“You can’t save him, Kaishi,” Viera says, pulling me up the ramp.
“We can! He’s right there!” But even as I say the words, I feel the pink shuttle shake as the Sevora defense pours their next attack into it.
“Malo gave himself for you, Empress, don’t let it be for nothing,” Viera says, and in that moment I stop fighting her.
I’m not stupid - going down for Malo means killing T’Oli, Viera, all of us. So I turn, I turn away from the warrior that’d stood by me for so long and leave him to die.
24 No Mercy
No connection. He’s in a void. No, there’s something. A spark. He can hold onto it. Push.
Harder.
Sax manages to open his eyes a narrow slit. It’s barely enough to see.
But he has to start somewhere.
There’s netting all around him. A forest of it. He must be in one of the shuttles, which explains the line of terminals in front, and the pair of Oratus working them. The cockpit window shows pure black space. Stars. The occasional laser flash arcing past them into oblivion.
Sax should feel the vibration from the engines, but he can’t. Should be able to taste the tang of recycled air, but his vents now operate on instinct alone, on reflexive nerve action. No conscious thought required.
His mouth doesn’t work either.
This must be what the Sevora feel like in a human’s brain.
Gar twists his head around, looks at Sax. Spreads a toothy grin, “Looks like our friend is waking up.”
Lan twitches her own head around, then snaps it back forward. To the terminals, the radars and flight controls.
“Stun him if he moves.”
“His legs and arms are clasped,” Gar shrugs. “He’s not going anywhere. Though I suppose I could take a few bites if we want to be sure.”
“Until they prove he’s helping Evva, Sax is still Vincere. We shouldn’t hurt him more than we have to.”
“Sounds like a gray area to me.”
Lan doesn’t bother fighting further, which is like her. Keep Gar from going too far, but letting him go far enough. Sax tries to get more control, tries to find his own nerves as Gar steps away from the terminals. Heads over to him.
“We’re almost to the frigate,” Gar rasps as he squats down near Sax. “Don’t know where Bas went. Didn’t think she’d abandon you, but we always thought you two were a strange pairing. Maybe she’s taking her chance.”
Sax tries to glare. Only succeeds in closing his eyes enough for everything to go hazy gray.
“Don’t like that thought? You’ll have plenty of time to stew on it. The Amigga’ll roast you for a good long time, make sure to get every useful morsel out of you.” Gar wiggles his claws in front of Sax. “Then what do you do with a good weapon gone bad? I’ll suggest a few things.”
Something causes the shuttle to shake, because Gar suddenly leans to the side, sweeps out with his tail to stabilize himself.
“What’s happening out there?” Gar looks back at Lan.
“We’re being chased.” Lan replies.
“Obviously. By who?”
“I don’t know, but I can guess.”
Sax manages to push his eyes back open and sees Lan swing the shuttle to the right, replacing the starfield with the solid pearl-white shape of the frigate. It’s a beautiful, ridged feather of a craft, with sharp edges fanning out to provide the many docking points for fighters, shuttles, and other ships. A vessel Sax would have been proud to serve on, not long ago.
One that, if he lands on it now, will mean his death.
Getting hit with a stunning miner is like receiving a massive shock. The blast overloads the nerves, fries their connections and leaves them in a withered state, unable to send information until they recover. Depending on the shot - Sax is sure this came from a heavier miner than the one Lan used earlier - and the shielding - Sax wasn’t wearing a full mask - the stun could work for hours or minutes.
There’s another factor, one harder to quantify - will. Need. Desire. Sax can’t make his nerves heal faster, but he can try to push movements through to his muscles. He can tell his claws to clench, his mouth to bite, his tail to swish, and while none of these get through intact, the Oratus starts to twitch.
Which gets Gar moving to the weapons rack - a literal spot to store miners against the wall while the shuttle’s in motion. Sax can’t turn his head enough to see what Gar’s grabbing, but he’s thinking he has a couple of seconds until his world goes black again.
Gar comes back into view. Aims the miner directly at Sax’s chest.
“They say this doesn’t damage muscles,” Gar rasps. “Only the nerves. Not that it matters for you.”
The shuttle rocks again. A warning light blinks on and loud ringing tones fill the cockpit.
“Thought you could fly one of these things?” Gar yells, looking back over his shoulder.
Sax pushes harder. His tail swishes.
“This isn’t a fighter!” Lan replies.
Gar shakes his scaly head, turns back to Sax, then seems to get an idea. “Lan, open up a line to’em. Tell them if they hit us again, Sax dies.”
“The Amigga won’t like that!”
“We’ll be dead, so it doesn’t matter!”
Sax has to agree with Gar on that one. The conversation, though, is buying him a bit of time. More swishes. His eyes are fully open now. The air tastes stale - not much of it in here, but the fact that Sax gets any flavor at all is good.
“All right,” Gar raises the miner again. “Time to sleep.”
Sax sees Gar’s claw depress the trigger, and Sax puts all his effort into one thing: a roll. His back shifts, his claws and talons, clasped together, swing Sax back into the netting, which sags deeper into the shuttle. And Gar’s shot, a blinding bright blue, strikes right where Sax should have been.
Then the net rebounds, pushes Sax back to his spot.
“Nice try.” Gar glances at the miner, confirms its still got energy. Raises it again.
“Gar!” Lan shouts suddenly. “They’re—”
And the rest of her words vanish as the shuttle’s roof cracks and breaks apart.
The ceiling over Sax’s head shifts from its boring light gray to a red, then orange and white color. Pieces of the structure start to fall and again Sax pushes himself to roll away from the liquid drops of molten metal. Gar dances back too, forgetting about his captive and aiming the miner towards where the hole is forming.
Towards where, as the shuttle’s hull peels back, Agra-Red’s manic, helmeted face shows. Just behind the Whelk is the billowing beige of a docking tube, one that must be sealed against the shuttle’s non-melted hull. Necessary to keep everyone from being sucked away in the vacuum.
Sax briefly wonders why Plake’s ship would have the equipment necessary for this kind of raid, files it away under things to consider when he’s not in a life-threatening fight, and resumes kicking and pushing himself along the net towards the shuttle’s side.
“Give it up, Gar! Lan!” Bas’ rasping shout rings into the shuttle. “You’re trapped. Surrender, and you’ll leave with your lives!”
“They’re countering the thrust,” Lan says to Gar. “The shuttle’s engines aren’t strong enough to keep us going forward.”
“Tell the frigate to blast them off.” Gar aims the miner through the hole, but doesn’t pull the trigger. If Gar breaks apart the tunnel, Sax and everyone else will be sucked into space. For once, the Oratus shows restraint.
“And chance that they’ll hit us?” Lan says. “I’m radioing the fighters. They’ll be better.”
“Anyone shoots at us, and we’ll blow your ship,” Bas says, still not trying to come down through the hole.
Their threats continue back and forth while Sax works at his bindings. They’re hard clasps, energized iron. He can’t get his tail around for leverage, but there’s something he does have, something designed to get through just about anything.
Teeth.
Sax brings his claw clasps up to his mouth as Gar shouts something back at Bas. Slips the thin edge of the circle tight on his right foreclaw past his lip, and nibbles. Feels the points of his teeth echo pain, but he tastes metal too. Progress.
He’s most of the way through the link - and Sax’s teeth are grinding down - when Gar ups the risk.
“If you come down through there, Lan’s going to blow the shuttle. Or I will,” Gar hisses. “We’re not going to lose. Either allow us to land, or we’ll all going to die.”
Sax isn’t sure how Gar thinks its possible for the shuttle to dock now that there’s a hole in its ceiling, but Gar’s true meaning is clear; they’re not surrendering.
“Lan,” Bas shouts. “You know this isn’t right! You know we’re not the enemy!”
Lan, still by the controls, doesn’t respond. Instead, she’s tapping away at something. Sax doesn’t know what, but the sooner he can free...
There. The clasp doesn’t spring loose, exactly, but the strength holding it together, keeping Sax’s right foreclaw from slipping free, vanishes. Sax, though, keeps still for a second. Makes sure Gar’s attention is still on the tunnel, on the potential attack from the Mobius.
Then Sax slips his claw free and, using its razor points, skewers the central control box keeping the clasps together. They drop off, and in the same motion, Sax swings his legs up and frees those too.
The stun isn’t all gone, so getting up feels a little like a dream - Sax can’t feel every nerve ending, and only knows his muscles are doing what he wants them to by what he can see - namely that Gar and his miner are at eye-level now.
And Gar doesn’t miss Sax’s move either. The Oratus audibly growls, swings the miner towards Sax.
“Too late,” Sax says.
Gar’s about to reply when a bolt lances down through the hole. Blue and bright, burying itself into Gar’s shoulder. It’s followed by a second and third, putting the Oratus down hard. Sax walks over to the paralyzed body of his former friend, snags Gar’s miner off the floor of the shuttle and aims it at Lan.
“Step away from the terminals,” Sax says to Lan. “Choose. Now. It’s us, or them.”
Lan looks at Gar. “We’re not perfect, but we’re loyal, Sax. To the cause, not to any one commander.”
“I don’t think there is a cause, Lan,” Sax hisses back. “It’s only what the Amigga want. You’re a pawn in their game.”
“Maybe that’s what we’re supposed to be,” Lan replies. Then she points at a hatch towards the back of the shuttle. The craft’s sole escape mod. “We’ll go that way.”
Sax flips the miner’s switch without thinking, changes it from stun to kill. Every bit of instinct is telling him not to leave these two alive. Not to give them another chance.
“If you take him, if you leave,” Sax starts.
“Next time, there’s no mercy.” Lan picks Gar up from the shuttle’s floor, and heads to the escape mod. Taps at the panel with her tail to open the door. “Sax, you’re choosing the wrong side.”
“I’m making a choice, Lan, which is more than what the Amigga will ever let you do.”
Lan does nothing more than nod, then she slips inside with her pair, seals the door, and blasts away.
Bas drops into the shuttle after Sax announces the all-clear, and she helps her pair head back up, through the short docking tunnel to the Mobius. Disconnecting the boarding seal involves the same superheating method - after Agra-Red seals off the tunnel behind a hatch, a gout of energy melts away the seal and the tunnel retracts.
And Plake immediately sends the Mobius into a spiraling whirl.
“Fighters, lasers, they’re all coming!” the Vyphen captain shouts over the ship’s broadcast system.
With both Lan and Gar free and away, the frigate and the fighters have no reason to be cautious, and apparently any information Sax and Bas have isn’t worth letting them get away alive.
“Turrets?” Sax asks Agra-Red as the whelk moves towards the front of the ship.
“None made for you,” Agra-Red says, sliding onto the platform and riding it to the Mobius’ second level. “Oratus are too large, too ugly for our guns.”
“Too ugly?” Bas says, but the Whelk’s already slipped away into a gunnery hatch.
“Funny, coming from a Whelk,” Sax rasps.
The two of them head up to the bridge, where Plake is busy guiding the Mobius through one dive and twist after another. Sax and Bas grab onto some crash netting and watch while the universe spins and slides. Laser fire flashes around them, and the Mobius rattles as shots find their mark.
“Leap away!” Sax says.
“If I stay still for a second, we’ll be burned to ash,” Plake shouts back, slipping the ship into a dive back towards Scrapper Station.
Sax gets a proud moment when he sees Scrapper Station’s still sending hot energy out at the Vincere’s fighters and retreating shuttles.
Retreating.
“We actually drove them off?” Sax says.
Plake laughs and Bas shakes her head. “They only wanted us. After they realized you’d been captured and I was on this ship, after Engee crashed it through Bay One, they started to retreat.”
“But the station will survive?”
“Sentimental, Sax?” Bas says. “I didn’t think you cared for it.”
Plake guides the Mobius beneath Scrapper Station, using its spokes as barriers to block the fire. There’s less of that too, now that they’re out of the frigate’s range. Sax begins to think they might make it out of this one alive.
“They don’t deserve to die for us,” Sax replies.
Though even as he says the words, Sax knows he’d give all of Scrapper Station up for their cause over and over again. And as Plake sets the Mobius in a level line, looking to leap, he knows they might have to.
“Where are we going?” Sax asks as the short countdown appears on the cockpit glass.
“A place to hide,” Plake says. “So we can figure out how to find your friend.”
Then the stars bend and warp, like Sax does himself, and they’re gone.
25 Home
As T’Oli careens out of the spaceport, I get one last look at the bodies of Rackt, the Whelk that escaped the crash, and even Ignos, whose Oratus form is bearing a pair of new blast wounds.
“You shot Ignos?” I ask Viera, numbly, who’s standing behind me while the boarding ramp closes.
“It tried to kill you. It killed Malo. It deserv
ed to die, Kaishi.” Viera turns away from me and walks back into the shuttle.
I follow her, taking a glazed look over the room we’ve entered. The gray-metal walls and ceiling look like the very first spaceship ride I took with the Oratus where they’d kept us tied up in the back. Where we’d suffered through a leap among boxes and boxes of nutrient goop.
There aren’t many crates here, though - instead, there’s a number of wide creamy circles that, when we approach, grow out furniture to match our bodies. Chairs, couches, and small tables.
It’s too much, and I’ve no interest in sitting down anyway.
“I’m going up,” I tell Viera, who collapses onto one of the couches and doesn’t appear the least bit interested in what I’m doing.
Up, in this shuttle, means a wide pearl stair with dual bronze hand-rails that, as soon as I step onto the first step, shift to match the height of my hands. I don’t think I’m going to need them until the shuttle shakes again, throwing me to the side and forcing me to grip tight to one of the railings or be thrown back towards Viera.
“I’d sit down, cause these Sevora don’t seem to want to let us go.”
T’Oli’s order is enough to push me up the stairs. I’m not going to wait for death - like Malo, I’m going to face it. See what’s going to end me. So I press my legs down and power up the stairs between volleys, get forward to a narrow cockpit that must be in the shuttle’s pinkish nose. T’Oli’s spread itself around the various switches and knobs, so that it looks like the whole control panel is covered in a white plaster.
“Thought I said to sit down?” T’Oli’s sole fluid patch, with its pair of eye stalks, flaps at me.
“I’m not,” I state. “Are we going to make it?”
“Depends,” T’Oli says. “On whether they can shoot straight.”
From the cockpit, I can see the rapidly-approaching edge of space. The beige sky is fading towards a deep blue and then black. T’Oli keeps the shuttle weaving, so that the view jerks and twists as we fly. Flashes punctuate the movements; lasers biting off into the space beyond us. Which, I realize, is far from empty. Even up here, hordes of Sevora shuttles and other ships blaze around like wasps, heading who knows where.