For the first time ever, Hep saw Mao fumble with his words. “But…why would…how?”
Bayne chewed the inside of his lip. If he hadn’t opened his mouth to speak, he would have eaten the inside of his face. “It doesn’t matter how and why right now. What matters is that it happened.” He walked away from them, likely not wanting them to see his expression twist up in anger or sadness or any emotion. He did not want them to see him react.
That frightened Hep. He’d seen Bayne in that state, so swallowed by his own emotions that the rest of the galaxy did not matter to him. His actions mattered only to him. As did the consequences. The fallout and how it fell on everyone around him were not present in his mind.
“But if we plan to keep ahead of the Navy and the Byers Clan, we need to know how deep the collusion goes.” They looked to Hep like he was any other member of the crew now, not a child, not a near turncoat, not a former pirate. The acceptance turned a sour pit in his stomach warm. Though it also caught him off guard, so he found himself fumbling to continue.
“I mean, it would help inform what we can expect to be thrown at us,” Hep said. “If the tops of both organizations are behind this, then the full force of both will be coming after us.”
Mao and Delphyne nodded.
Bayne’s entire body looked to have seized. His shoulders and neck were made of stone, sculpted with dynamite from a slab of volcanic rock. Hep considered walking to his side, placing a reassuring hand on the captain’s shoulder, the way Bayne had done for him on several occasions. That idea was fleeting, a hummingbird barraged with a sudden driving hailstorm.
“Bring me Horus.”
14
Sigurd arrived with Elvin Horus minutes later. Sig still refused to look at Delphyne. Or maybe he couldn’t. His cheeks turned red whenever he was in the same room with her.
Horus still stunk of liquor, though he appeared to be sober. The rum was probably seeping out of his pores at this point, given that he spent more time drinking than not. Bayne understood the impulse. Horus played part to a massacre of hundreds of innocent men and women, people he had fought beside. Then thousands of people he worked beside turned to vapor on Triseca. And he had reason to believe that those he served under in both the Navy and Byers Clan were responsible.
If not for the driving desire to put his swords through those same people, Bayne would be drowning in rum right now. But he was stone sober. And he didn’t care to give Horus pity right now.
“You served in Operation Welcome Mat,” Bayne stated, not asked. It immediately set the tone of an interrogation.
“Yeah,” Horus said. His gait slowed in the face of the question. As did the carefree look he so often adopted.
“Who else did?”
“Pardon?” Horus was on the defensive, exactly where Bayne wanted him.
“Captains. Who else captained ships on that mission?”
Horus sat slowly, like an arthritic into a rocking chair. “That mission was compartmentalized. Ships were stripped of their IDs, so we didn’t know who we were sailing with. All communication was routed through Central. No ship-to-ship comms.”
Bayne bent over, putting his face inches from the Horus’s bearded, rum-stinking face. “But sailors talk. Who were the other captains?”
Horus was a large man, taller than Bayne by six inches and heavier by seventy pounds. Most of that was muscle. At least, it used to be. By now, a portion of it was alcohol. But the huge man shrank away from Bayne like a child from a stern school teacher. The thick hair over his lip shook. “I…I may have heard a few names.”
Bayne had Hep copy the names of Captains Nemec, Hooper, Tisdale, and Ryme. “Go through the data we took from Centel,” Bayne told Hep. “Find out where those captains are now.”
“I can save you the trouble,” Horus said. “They all work for Byers. Scattered throughout the system. Ryme and Nemec are in the Black somewhere. All of us got honorable discharges and full pensions, but the pay was too good to pass up.”
“All work for Byers,” Bayne repeated.
“That’s not quite half the captains involved in that mission,” Mao said. “But it’s still quite a coincidence that they would all receive such generous offers from Byers so close after a black ops mission.”
“They were silenced,” Bayne said. “It would take a high-ranking Navy official to arrange honorable discharges. Don’t know about Byers. High-paying positions that kept them all apart and away from Central. That would take coordination, someone with some pull.”
Bayne walked in circles, but he felt like he was the only thing not moving, like everything was spinning around him, out of control. He was at the center of a storm. He stepped forward from the calm of the eye toward the tumult, confident that the winds would calm for him.
He was wrong.
“Sir,” Graeme’s voice came through Bayne’s comm. “We’ve been targeted.”
15
The bridge was buzzing when Bayne stepped on deck. Lights flashing. Officers in and out of their seats, shouting over each other. Nothing being accomplished amidst the flurry of activity. It still surprised Bayne how quickly the crew fell apart without a leader calling the shots.
In the Rangers, someone would have stepped up if the captain and XO were gone. It could have been the next down the line, it could have been a radio tech, but it would have been someone.
“Report,” Bayne said. His firm yet calm voice returned some order.
“Two ships,” Graeme said. “They dropped out of a hard burn right on top of us.” That meant the Blue had no chance of detecting them on approach. It also meant that they had a near perfect location of the Blue. Even the best pilot in the system couldn’t drop out of a hard burn that close to a target without knowing exactly where they were. “Both Navy ships, sir.”
A knot tightened in Bayne’s gut. “Which ones?”
“The Illuminate,” Graeme answered.
“Jeska,” Bayne said.
Mara Jeska was one of the only other Navy captains who sailed the Deep Black on regular tours. She had charted nearly as much of the territory as Bayne. She was as comfortable, if not more, as Bayne in the Black, which made her the most dangerous opponent the Navy could send after him.
He knew they would task her with chasing him down. He feared they would give her command of a fleet.
“And the Glint,” Graeme continued.
“Bigby,” Bayne said.
Selvin Bigby, though not as experienced in the Deep Black, was one of two Navy captains who took trailblazing tours along known but not fully charted territories. He was a quick thinker, creative problem solver, and no stranger to skirting protocol to accomplish objectives. Bayne liked the man—they’d shared countless drinks and stories over the years. And he respected Bigby—they’d sailed together on Bayne’s first tours after joining the Navy. They pacified areas still held by warlord sympathizers and brought territories under the banner of the United Systems.
It wasn’t quite a fleet, but it was as dangerous a force as the Navy could muster against Bayne.
“Orders, sir?” Graeme was shaking in his chair. A competent officer, but inexperienced. Bayne needed both right now.
He turned to Delphyne, who, along with Mao, had followed him onto the bridge. “Take your seat, Lieutenant. Graeme, hail the Illuminate.”
“Aye, sir.”
The soft hum of radio static filled the bridge. “Captain Jeska, it’s good to see you.”
“You can shove your attempts at charm up your ass, Bayne,” she answered.
A smile forced its way onto Bayne’s face.
“You know what comes next,” Jeska said. “You know the mandate when hunting down traitors and deserters.”
The words were like knives in each of Bayne’s sides. Coming from the Navy, the blades may well have been dipped in poison before piercing his skin. “You really believe I’m a traitor?”
“It doesn’t matter what I believe,” Jeska answered. “It matters what I’m orde
red to do. That’s why I’m on this side, and you’re on that side. That’s something that never really took hold with you, did it?”
She always was the blunt sort. That was one of the things that Bayne liked so much about her. Except when he was on the receiving end of it.
“I suppose not,” Bayne said. “But what happens when the people giving the orders can’t be believed? They’re lying to you, Jeska. They’re lying to everyone. I have evidence that—”
“I don’t care,” she said, cutting him off. “This isn’t a courtroom. You surrender now, I bring you in peacefully, and I promise you that you can present whatever evidence you have and point all the fingers you want.”
Bayne wanted to believe that, if only for Jeska’s sake. He didn’t want to be the one to shatter her illusions of the honorable Navy serving an honorable purpose. “I wish you had any say over that, Jeska. I really do.”
He muted the comm. “Graeme, chart a course as deep into the Black as you can. Richmond,” he said, contacting the engineering room. “Begin venting the nitrogen tanks. Delphyne, target our current location with our bow guns.”
He felt the curious eyes cling to him. Delphyne’s weren’t curious but cautioning. He realized then how much he’d missed her presence on the bridge. She was always a reminder of the line, whether or not she was able to keep him from crossing it.
“Keep a bead on the Glint,” Bayne ordered. “It’ll try to work its way behind us. If it moves past our nine o’clock, put a shot across its bow. We need to maintain an open route out of here.”
Mao stepped to Bayne’s side and spoke so only he could hear. “What’s our mandate here, Captain? Are we preparing to kill fellow sailors?”
We aren’t sailors anymore, Bayne thought. It had become like a mantra. “We are preparing to do whatever we need to survive.”
He unmuted the comm to Jeska. “Captain Jeska, I am prepared to take you up on your offer.”
Jeska’s surprise was almost audible over the comm. As was that of the bridge crew.
“I’m glad you’ve discovered some sense since we last sailed together, Drummond,” she said. “I’ve no desire to end this the way brass wants it to end.”
If Bayne allowed himself some humility, he could admit that Mara Jeska was the best frontier captain in the Navy. But, like most frontier captains, she was also loose-lipped and either naïve of protocol or blatantly ignored it. She wasn’t even aware of the information that she let slip. She probably wasn’t even aware that she had information to let slip.
The Navy brass wanted Bayne dead. They needed to allow him the opportunity to surrender so that there could be an investigation and a trial and a public horse and pony show. But they just wanted him dead and the whole thing swept back under the rug where it belonged. They may not have given the order directly, but they made it known, subtly, that if the Blue never made it back to Central, that would be mission accomplished.
The knowledge didn’t change Bayne’s plan, but it eased his guilt about it. “We all have to grow up and open our eyes sometime, Mara.” It was both an admittance and accusation.
“Then power down all weapons systems,” Jeska ordered. “Only essential life support functions. All crew are to be disarmed upon our arrival. We will take your crew aboard the Illuminate for holding. Bigby’s crew will pilot your ship home.”
Bayne sighed so Jeska could hear. Part of the show. “Couldn’t you switch that around? Bigby’s a terrible pilot, but he’s got better booze.”
Jeska laughed. Then she ended the communication.
“Put the engines to sleep,” Bayne said. “Keep them running, but low enough that the Illuminate can’t detect them.”
“Low enough that they can kick back on without an initiation sequence?” Mao said, knowing the answer. Because he’d seen it done before.
“Say what you will about them,” Bayne said to Mao. “But pirates are a clever bunch.”
Wex Shill had done this very thing to them when they tried to apprehend him so many months ago. Bayne thought he complied by powering down and waiting for Bayne to board. But their weapon systems were just in a low-powered state, so they appeared offline. Once the Blue’s shuttle was en route, they fired up their guns. Though Mao must have thought it a cowardly trick, just the sort pirates would think up, it was an ingenious ruse, and Bayne would be a fool not to employ it.
Bayne addressed the bridge. “Once the shuttles are underway from the Illuminate and the Glint, we’ll detonate the gas. It’ll be a quick flash in the pan, nothing that will cause any significant damage to their ships, just provide us enough cover to make an escape.”
The bridge crew offered a cold reception.
“They are still our brothers-in-arms,” Bayne said. “I’ve no desire to harm them. Once we get this mess cleaned up, you will sail beside them again.” His gut tightened with the lie.
Silence engulfed the bridge as the crew watched and waited. Even the ship went quiet as the engines slept. After a few minutes that felt like hours, a voice came over the inter-ship comm channel. “Shuttles away.”
Through the viewscreen, Bayne watched four shuttles approach. Each one was big enough to carry three away teams of five. They were joined by a larger transport meant to escort the Blue’s crew back to the Illuminate. That transport likely held another five to seven teams of five. Over a hundred armed sailors coming to take his ship. If allowed to dock, there was no way he could stop them.
But they wouldn’t be allowed to dock. They crossed the threshold, getting close enough to the vented gas cloud that it would cause no damage now if it detonated.
“Delphyne, fire the forward batteries—”
Before Bayne could finish his order, Delphyne cut him off. “Another ship just appeared on screen!”
A giant red dot ate up a portion of the map directly behind the ship, cutting off their escape route and surrounding them.
“It’s the Forager!” Delphyne shouted.
Captain Horne’s ship. The other Navy trailblazer. The Forager was one of the fastest in the Navy but not built for combat. Horne was a scout, mostly, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t punch a few holes in Bayne’s hull.
Bayne felt a noose tighten around his neck. It stopped him from breathing. From speaking.
“Captain!” Mao said, jarring Bayne from his stupor. “Orders?”
The shuttles inched closer with every second. Closer to the gas cloud. If the Blue lit it too late, the shuttles, and everyone on them, would be torn apart. But if Bayne did nothing, those sailors would board the ship, and it would all be over. Despite Jeska’s intentions, Bayne knew he would never see the inside of a courtroom. He would never tell his story. The massacred Rangers would never get justice.
“Sir, the shuttles are ten seconds from crossing into the blast radius of the gas cloud,” Delphyne said.
Taking out the shuttles would keep them from being boarded, and maybe cause enough of a distraction that they could maneuver around the Forager before Horne had time to react. But with the blood of Navy sailors on their hands, Bayne doubted his crew would sail with him much longer.
But that was if he waited.
“Target the cloud and fire. Now!” His sudden fierceness caught the bridge crew off guard.
Moa tried to reason with him, as he always did. “Sir, I think we should—"
“I don’t care what you think,” Bayne said. “Fire now!”
“They’re too close!” Mao shouted back.
Delphyne didn’t move.
“Fire now, goddamnit!”
Mao grabbed Bayne’s arm and spun the captain around to face him. Bayne’s hand immediately reached for the blade on his hip. The black blade. Malevolence.
“We cannot fire on those shuttles,” Mao said, his throat tight, voice coming out like bear guarding its den.
“The shuttles have crossed into the blast zone,” Delphyne said.
Bayne’s eyes narrowed to pinpoints. His fingers laced around the handle of his swor
d. “We wouldn’t have if you’d done as ordered.” He shook free of Mao’s grip and marched toward Delphyne. “Get up, Lieutenant. You’re relieved of duty.”
She moved aside like she was stepping out of the way of an oncoming train.
Bayne took her seat. He hadn’t sat at a gunner’s station in a long time, but they hadn’t changed. Nothing had changed since man first picked up a rock. Point it at what you want dead and start throwing.
He punched in the coordinates. And he fired.
Two torpedoes launched straight for the cloud.
The bridge crew inhaled sharply and held a collective breath.
The comm channel to the Illuminate sparked to life. Jeska sounded like an air raid siren. “Are you out of your mind? Call those off right now!”
Bayne didn’t respond. He cut off the channel before anyone else could. He was the only one on the bridge that mattered now. He’d wanted to share more with his crew. Let them in. Let them be part of the decisions. It was all their lives on the line. But they proved they couldn’t be trusted. He would do it himself.
“Captain Bayne, I must insist—”
Bayne cut Mao off without turning to look at him. His voice was cold and quiet, like a moonless night on a winter pond. “Another word out of you, XO, and I will carry out your sentence right here and now.”
The torpedoes and shuttles raced toward one another. Toward the point of no return. The point where Bayne became the story they’d written about him. The traitor. The pirate. When everything that he’d made of himself, the life he’d carved out of nothing, was erased.
But what choice did he have? Give up, get stabbed in his cell, and have the story written before his body was cold? Stay alive, become the dread pirate, reveal the truth, watch them tear each other apart? Maybe there was a third option.
He heard Mao’s footsteps behind. Steady even now. He heard the clasp undone on Mao’s blaster. The metal slide against the leather of his holster.
“The shuttles are veering off,” Graeme said.
The company of shuttles and the transport split and veered in opposite directions, steering toward either side of the oncoming torpedoes. Their new trajectories took them outside the blast zone.
Ranger Bayne (The Deep Black Book 3) Page 8