Ranger Bayne (The Deep Black Book 3)

by James David Victor

  That was when Bayne detonated the torpedoes.

  The gas cloud burst like a balloon, a fireball started as a spark and rolled outwards until it was one big ball of fire. The shuttles were swallowed in it. For the length of a breath, they were gone. In that moment, Bayne flickered between redeemable and irredeemable, the man he knew he was and the man they believed him to be.

  The glare of the explosion faded. Through the bright spots dancing across Bayne’s vision, he saw the shuttles and the transport, still intact. They suffered some damage, and a few looked to be disabled, but they were in one piece, as were, presumably, the sailors inside.

  Without wasting a moment, Bayne targeted the Forager. The shuttles were between the Illuminate and Glint and the Royal Blue, dirtying up the Navy’s clean shot enough that Bayne knew they wouldn’t risk it. Jeska would likely task Bigby with recovering the disabled shuttles while she plotted a course around them.

  Horne and the Forager would engage. But Horne was a scout captain, not as experienced in combat, and the Forager was a scout ship, light and quick, not meant for ship-to-ship engagement.

  Bayne let loose a torpedo, aimed at the starboard engine. The shields would protect the Forager from major damage, but the impact would rattle Horne, giving Bayne the precious window he needed to escape.

  “Graeme, drop us ten degrees,” Bayne ordered. “Take us under the Forager. Engineering, prep a hard burn.”

  The Forager appeared to climb as the Blue dove. The Forager’s starboard engine was in clear view as the torpedo hit. The cloud of super-heated vapor and sparks had yet to dissipate before the Blue had dipped beneath the Forager, taking Horne’s ship out of view.

  “Hard burn ready,” someone from engineering said.

  Before Bayne could give the order, Delphyne shouted from the monitor station. “Incoming torpedo!”

  The Illuminate had barely cleared the disabled shuttles when it shot off a Hail Mary. Bayne should have known that Jeska wouldn’t let him go without a fight. Not after attacking her people. Not after lying to her.

  Bayne suddenly saw double as the ship shook. The torpedoes couldn’t have reached them already. Whatever hit them was closer. And it was still coming. A barrage.

  “The Forager is firing its starboard gun batteries,” Delphyne shouted over the rumble. “Shields are holding.”

  It wasn’t enough to cause significant damage, but it did slow them down.

  “Initiate hard burn,” Bayne ordered. “Get us the hell out of here!”

  The ship lurched as fuel flooded the engines and pushed them to capacity. Bayne felt his lungs press against his back, his heart squeeze, his eyes sink further into his skull.

  Then he felt the rumble of a torpedo colliding with the aft of the Royal Blue.

  16

  “Damage report!” The words barely scraped out of Bayne’s throat, the G-force trying to press them back down into his belly.

  “Torpedo struck our rear,” Delphyne said. “No significant hull damage.”

  “Then why are we slowing down?” Mao asked.

  Bayne radioed engineering.

  “Maintaining hard burn,” an engineering officer replied. “But that last hit disrupted the fuel injection system. It only pumped enough in to get us about halfway to our target.”

  “Bring up a map of the area,” Bayne said as he left the gunner’s station and took his place back in the captain’s chair.

  Delphyne raised a display of their projected drop point.

  It was a familiar area, but one that put a pit in Bayne’s stomach. It was familiar to him and to Jeska, Horne, Bigby, and even the Byers Clan. It would provide him little, if any, cover.

  “Any way to juice the engines a little more?” Bayne asked his engineers. “Get us a little further?”

  “No, sir. We can’t prep the injection process until the engines cool down.”

  It was difficult, but not impossible, to track a ship while it was in a hard burn. If Jeska didn’t have them now, she would shortly after they returned to a normal speed. The Forager was faster than the Blue, and the others weren’t far behind. They wouldn’t be able to prep another jump before the Navy was on top of them. And with Jeska now prepped for a fight, Bayne wouldn’t be able to fend them off.

  When you can’t fight, and you can’t run, there is only one option left.

  “We need a place to hide,” Bayne said.

  “Or we could surrender,” Mao said.

  “I don’t have time for you right now, Taliesin,” Bayne answered. The captain pushed himself out of his chair. The G-force had lessened as the ship slowed, and the artificial gravity on board had recalibrated enough that he could move. It felt like only a large man standing on his chest now instead of an elephant.

  He stood over Graeme’s shoulder, looking down at the navigational display in front of the nav officer. The drop point was mostly empty space. Nothing that would provide natural cover. So, maybe it was better to hide in plain sight.

  “There,” Bayne said, pointing to a small moon.

  “Sir, that’s—”

  “I know what it is,” Bayne said, cutting Graeme off. “Chart the course.”

  Bayne walked off the bridge without looking at a single member of his crew. He walked down the corridor, sweat forming on his brow from the effort to keep his balance when everything seemed to be working against him.

  “Hep,” Bayne said, activating his personal comm. “Where are you?”

  “Shuttle bay. Prepping in case we need to bail.”

  “We won’t. Meet me in the comms room. I need you to open a channel for me.”

  By Bayne’s internal clock, they had just minutes, three at most, until they came out of hard burn. It would be ten more before Jeska had their location. He had less than fifteen minutes to make this happen.

  Hep arrived at the comms room just as Bayne did. Bayne handed Hep a slip of paper. “Open a channel on this frequency. I need it in the next five minutes.”

  Hep unfolded the paper. His eyes went wide at the letters and numbers, seemingly trying to decode them, find the true meaning hidden among them, because they couldn’t possibly be real. “I know this frequency. This is—”

  “I know what it is. Just do it.”

  “No,” came a voice from down the hall. “Do not do it.”

  Now it was Bayne trying to decode what he was seeing, trying to find meaning in the scene before him. Mao was flanked by Sigurd and Delphyne. He wore a look that Bayne had never seen. One of pure anger, of hate.

  “Stand down, XO,” Bayne said.

  Pain flashed across Mao’s face. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, sir. I can’t allow you to make that call.”

  “Allow me?” Bayne parroted Mao’s words, lacing them with poison. “You don’t allow me to do anything on my ship.”

  “We’ve followed you through hell, sir,” Mao said. “We’ve stepped in line as you made one bad decision after another because we had faith you would lead us through as you always have. But this?” Mao spread his arms, gesturing to everything around them. A life on the run from those they swore to serve. And, now, a looming alliance with those they swore to bring to justice. “You want to bring us to Ore Town?”

  “It’s the only option we’ve got left,” Bayne said.

  “It isn’t,” Mao answered. “You could surrender. You could end all of this right now. You’ve sailed us too far into the Black on this one, Drummond. You need to bring your people back to the light.”

  “There is no light!” The anger shot out of Bayne. “There never was. My entire tenure with the Navy, the reason I joined up, the reason I sailed under its banner, was all a lie. It never existed. I betrayed the one real thing I ever had to serve a lie. To serve murderers and thieves. I’m in the dark? I’ve finally stepped out of it, Mao. For the first time since leaving the Rangers, I’m back on the right side.”

  Bayne ripped the Navy emblem off his chest and threw it at Mao’s feet. He pointed at the tattered piece of cl
oth. “They’re the ones who’ve sailed too far into the Black.”

  With a flick of Mao’s thumb, he undid the clasp securing his blaster in its holster. He undid years of service, of friendship. Years as Executive Officer Taliesin Mao, faithful officer of the United Navy.

  “Captain,” Mao said. “You are relieved of duty.”

  17

  Hep was frozen. He looked at Mao over Bayne’s shoulder. Sig and Delphyne at Mao’s side. The blaster rifle slung over Sig’s shoulder, as it often was, now carried with it a sense of warning. It was a snake coiled and ready to strike.

  “Get in there and open that comm channel,” Bayne said to Hep.

  “Don’t you move,” Mao said.

  Both commands came with added weight, laced with threat. Hep didn’t move. He couldn’t have if he wanted to.

  “Hepzah,” Bayne said. “If you don’t open that comm channel before we come out of this hard burn, Jeska will find us. If she doesn’t fire first, if she ends up taking us prisoner, none of us will not make it to Central alive. You know that. You know what Tirseer is capable of and willing to do.” He glanced over his shoulder at Hep. “What do you think she’ll do to you? The one who stole data from under her nose. The one who betrayed her to save my life. All her problems would be gone if you’d just done what you were told. The colonel doesn’t strike me as the forgiving type.”

  “Don’t you dare do that,” Mao said. This time, the warning wasn’t meant for Hep. It was aimed at Bayne. “Don’t you manipulate him like that. He’s a kid still. He has a chance at living a normal life after all this.”

  “Now who’s lying?” Bayne said. His hands slipped down to his hips. His fingers danced on the tips of his sword handles.

  Mao’s fingers crept around the handle of his baster. Sig rested his hands on the body of his rifle. Delphyne didn’t move.

  “Don’t make me do this,” Mao said.

  “I’ve never made you do anything,” Bayne said.

  Every second brought another micro-movement toward a point of no return. Where the crew ripped itself apart. Where the hopes of a new life were run through with blue and black blades and shot through the head with a blaster.

  A blaster rifle muzzle appeared from a branching corridor and pressed nearly to Sig’s temple. “Hands up, Chief.” Wilco smiled and winked, though it was unclear to whom. Sig raised his hands. Wilco slid the chief’s rifle off his shoulder.

  “You’re making a mistake here, Wilco,” Mao said.

  “No, I’m not.” Wilco’s voice held no hesitation. “Now, put your hands up too, XO.”

  Mao’s eyes narrowed on Bayne. “No. Not this time.” He pulled his blaster free of its leather holster, and time fractured. At times seeming like it sped up and, at others, like it slowed to a stop.

  Mao’s movement drew Wilco’s eye. Sig took advantage of that by throwing his elbow back and hitting Wilco’s wrist, loosening his grip on the rifle and throwing him off balance. Sig followed through by turning his whole body and driving his fist into the side of Wilco’s head. Wilco managed, barely, to raise his shoulder and absorb some of the blow. If he hadn’t, Sig would have broken his jaw.

  Bayne never looked away from Mao. And he wasted no movement. He threw his body forward, falling into a lunge and ducking beneath Mao’s gun. He drew the black blade and sliced it across the space between him and Mao quicker than a muzzle flash.

  Hep’s breath caught in his throat. He was afraid to let it out, afraid to let time continue for fear of witnessing the aftermath of that slash. But his lungs began to burn, and he couldn’t hold it in any longer.

  Hep exhaled.

  Mao’s blaster fell to the floor in two pieces. But Mao did not. He was unharmed.

  Bayne continued his lunge, closing the distance between him and Mao in less than a second. As he moved, he twirled Malevolent so that the blade pointed back, away from Mao. Bayne drove the butt of the handle into Mao’s gut.

  Mao wheezed as the air was forced out of him, but he didn’t fall. Hep never pictured the XO as much of a fighter. He was a man of protocol, of rules and regulations. Hep just assumed that precluded him from knowing how to throw a punch. Hep was wrong.

  Mao had a significant reach advantage over Bayne. He was taller than the captain by nearly half a foot. Mao fell back a step as he struggled to catch his breath. He caught Bayne in the forehead with a quick jab and managed to keep Bayne back. He threw a few more quick punches to maintain the distance. Then he closed it, heaving all his power into a thrust to Bayne’s chest. The punch connected square in the center of Bayne’s sternum. Now the captain was the one struggling for breath.

  Mao threw his whole body at Bayne, driving his shoulder into Bayne’s midsection. Hep dove out of the way, barely avoiding being sandwiched between the two men as they slammed into the wall.

  The men disappeared in a flurry of punches and elbows and knees. They no longer seemed to care about blocking, or even winning. They just wanted to hurt each other.

  Wilco and Sig had begun their own descent into fury. Wilco was on top of Sig, one knee pressed into Sig’s chest while the other pinned his arm down. Wilco dropped punch after punch into Sig’s face, his fists coming away bloodier each time.

  The twisted look on Wilco’s face sent a bitter chill down Hep’s back. He’d seen glimpses of it before. In the orphanage. On the streets after they’d escaped. Serving under Parallax. Hep always told himself that it was just something Wilco needed to do to survive. Hep was grateful for it because, whatever it was, he didn’t have it, and he would have died without it.

  But Hep had a feeling that he was seeing it on full display now. Nothing to hinder it. Nothing to temper the rage and glee.

  A quick muzzle flash and the boom of blaster shot shook them all from their fury. They looked up to see Delphyne holding Sig’s rifle. She’d put a hole in the ceiling.

  “You all done acting like a bunch of foolish stars-be-damned children?”

  The anger in her voice surprised Hep as much as the smoking gun in her hand.

  “The Navy wants us dead. The Byers Clan wants us dead. You’re making it easy for them. We’ve all got disputes here that need settling, but now is not the time to settle them. We fired on Navy ships. They won’t give us the chance to do it again. They will fire on us as soon as they see us. We need somewhere to lay low, collect ourselves, and figure out our next move.”

  She looked to Hep. “The captain’s got an idea for a place like that. I suggest you make that call.”

  He nodded and entered the comm room. He was thankful to have been given an order by someone with a gun. It alleviated him of the problem of making a choice. Had Bayne subdued them, had Mao gained the upper hand—

  Hep had no idea who he wanted to win, who he wanted to follow.

  18

  He took no pleasure in seeing his friend defeated. If it even was Mao who had been defeated. Bayne didn’t feel particularly victorious, having his XO’s blood on his knuckles. Delphyne was the one with the gun. But she didn’t look at all pleased by this outcome either.

  “Lieutenant,” Bayne said. “Seeing how you’ve gone and taken charge of this situation, might I recommend putting Mao and Sig in the brig? Just until we’ve landed, and things have settled a bit.”

  The words tasted like metal coming out of Bayne’s mouth.

  “No,” Delphyne said. “Not the brig. They can return to their quarters. And they can stay there for a time.”

  Mao pinched the bridge of his nose. “I suppose that’s a kindness for which I should thank you.” It sounded more like a question than anything else. Mao’s attempt at sarcasm got lost somewhere.

  Sigurd was silent. Both seething and broken, being at the business end of Delphyne’s blaster. Just an hour ago, he thought he’d never see her again. Now, she was locking him up. The dizzying emotions must have been nauseating.

  Wilco picked up the blaster rifle that Sig had knocked from his hands. None seemed too pleased at him being armed. Bayn
e wasn’t sure whether he was or not. He was glad to have a gun solidly in his corner, but he couldn’t deny there was a side to the boy that had begun to show recently that gave him reservations. A wildness.

  Before Wilco and Delphyne escorted Sig and Mao away, the XO locked eyes with Bayne. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Drummond. Watch that you don’t become exactly what you think you’re fighting.”

  Bayne shook his head but said nothing as Mao and Sig were walked away. Mao still had no idea what Bayne was fighting. Mao was still thinking like a sailor, a man with orders that came from a superior that served a system with good intentions. A system that functioned as all who served it believed it was meant to.

  But Bayne knew better now. He’d had the realization, the moment that Parallax told him he would.

  He entered the comm room.

  Hep stood from the comm station and nodded to him. “It’s ready.”

  Bayne nodded and, with a gesture, bade Hep to leave. The boy obliged without a word, but wore a sad expression as he walked.

  The call was queued up. All Bayne needed to do was press the button to put it through. His stomach fluttered. This was the only option. That didn’t mean it was a good one. That didn’t mean he trusted whoever answered his call.

  “Coming out of hard burn in one minute.” Graeme’s voice was steady as it came over Bayne’s personal comm.

  “Continue with the discussed route,” Bayne answered. He pressed the comm button. “This is Drummond Bayne to the administrator of the Ore Town colony.” He was answered with static. “Ore Town, do you copy? This is Drummond Bayne of the Royal Blue.” He swallowed hard before continuing. “I come under my own banner. That of a Ranger captain. I no longer sail for the United Navy.”

  Bayne’s throat tightened. He had just thrown his relationship with his entire crew into the void for this. Risked everything on this. And, now, no answer. Left to drift in the Black on his own, sucking for breath, freezing from the inside out. He thought of everything that could have been, had things gone differently. Had his parents never died. Had he never joined the Rangers. Had he chosen to stay a Ranger and not join the Navy. A web of what-ifs spreading out into infinity.