by Alex White
Nilah lightly bit the skin just above her collarbone. “Have you seen you? You know you have a following on the Link, right?”
“Stop. I’m being serious.”
“So am I. You’re so brave, and I admire everything about you.”
The quartermaster smirked and shook her head. “I think soldering gets you riled up.”
“Not really. It’s engine timing calibration that makes me want to tear off your clothes,” she whispered into Orna’s ear, then leaned back and stared into her eyes. “I just want you to know how much I want you all the time.”
Orna chuckled. “You’ll just have to wait until we’re done.”
“I don’t mean like that,” Nilah said. “I mean today. Tomorrow. In a hundred years. If I’m breathing, I want you.”
Orna reached over her and wrapped her arm around Nilah’s shoulders, and her heart stilled. Nilah rested her head against Orna’s chest, pressing her ear to her skin and listening for her pulse.
“I have so many good memories of you,” said Nilah. “When I saw you the first time.”
Orna snorted. “You mean when I choked you?”
Nilah cleared her throat. “There was a certain fun in, uh … well … it might be something to try again later, love. But not just that. Every moment of this year is full of you. We cried together. We fought together—”
“I’m from a dead world, but …” Orna nodded. “You’ve become my home.”
“You know,” said Nilah, kissing her once more, her fingers traveling over Orna’s arms. “We haven’t promised these to the captain for another two hours. We’ve been working so hard. Perhaps we could take a little nap.”
The quartermaster laughed and glanced back to the bed. “After all, we might die tomorrow.”
Nilah, Orna, and Aisha gathered at the docking portal with Cordell and Armin. The quartermaster had already climbed into Charger, and Nilah couldn’t help but do a double take every time she saw the giant wolf. Aisha pulled on the bear mask, which fit her poorly compared to Boots. Slight and skinny did the costume little justice.
“Zero hour,” said the captain, clapping Nilah on the shoulder. “If this plan isn’t going to work, now is your last chance to back out.”
“Uncharacteristically noncommittal of you, Captain,” Nilah replied.
“You’re supposed to give us an inspirational speech, sir,” Aisha added.
“This isn’t the Harrow,” said Cordell. “We’re on offense now, and we can leave if we choose. I just want to hear you say you’ve got this.”
Nilah smirked. “You know what? Next week, when we hand over the names of every corporation funding Bastion’s construction, I want you to turn to me and say, ‘Good plan, Miss Brio.’”
“That’s the spirit,” Cordell said as she donned her rabbit mask.
“You’re to begin your assault on our cue,” said Armin. “We want the meeting to be ongoing when you fight, since you’ll almost certainly sound some alarms. Will you be able to cut the power to the defense grid?”
Aisha shrugged. “Not my department, but I’ll shoot some people.”
“Mister Vandevere,” Nilah said, “it’ll probably be more delicate than that. Simply cutting the power will likely trigger a defensive response.”
Armin narrowed his eyes. “So you’re going to slice apart one of the most sophisticated security systems in the galaxy faster than you did the Harrow?”
“We don’t have to hack the main computer,” said Orna. “We just have to get control of one of the stupid security thralls. Slavery is their biggest security hole, and we’re going to breach the hell out of it.”
“Yes. Perhaps leave the hacking to us, sir?” Nilah added.
Armin nodded in defeat. “As you wish. God speed you.”
“Keep the ship hot for us,” said Aisha. “I’ll be glad to get off this hulk.”
They said their goodbyes, cycled the airlock, and stepped into the docking bay. Nilah’s eyes traveled to Vraba’s marauder, flanked on all sides by his soldiers. They caught a couple of confused looks at Charger’s lupine form, but no alarms went up.
They stepped on a platform and swept down the Central Promenade, trees passing soundlessly below. Within seconds, they’d be in position.
“Are you ready?” whispered Orna as the platform slowed its descent toward the guard station.
Nilah looked through the ample windows at the armed spike thralls patrolling the interior. “Is anyone ever ready to do something so foolish?”
“I am,” said Aisha. “Let’s kill another god.”
Chapter Twenty
Standoff
The spike-alike was cold against Boots’s neck, and the skin glue they used stank like a cross between denatured alcohol and burnt rubber. It was supposed to be used for sealing cuts, but Malik swore it would hold the small device.
They were working in Boots’s shared quarters, and they’d already managed to drip chemicals and makeup all over the nice rugs.
“Hold still. I have to set it,” said the doctor as he spritzed a frosty liquid onto her neck that ran down the back of her shirt.
She ducked away, slapping at the middle of her back. “Cripes! Come on, Doc!”
“You’ll live.”
“Oh, is that your medical opinion?”
Cordell rounded the corner with the twins in tow. “Are you complaining again, Boots?”
“In my defense, sir, it was like having a corpse run its finger down my spine.” She dodged away as Malik went to spray her again.
“I’ll run my boot up your ass if you don’t let the doc do his job.”
“If it makes you feel better,” said Malik, “I’ll let you attach mine.”
“Ten minutes to mission start,” Armin’s voice came over the intercom. “I’m getting remote feeds from three of the four masks. Captain, can you check in?”
“Copy,” said Cordell, pulling on the eagle mask. Feathers flowed down his shoulders into a cape, and he cracked his neck. “Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”
“I’m seeing Boots,” said Armin.
“Yeah,” said Cordell. “I’ll try to look at something prettier. Maybe I could find a mirror.”
“Har har,” said Boots, wincing as the last of the cold-set fluid managed to trickle down her back, past her shirt, straight into her pants.
Once Malik attached the spike-alikes to the twins, he was true to his word, letting Boots spritz him to her heart’s content. Unfortunately, the doctor’s stoicism carried the day, and he wasn’t nearly as fun to torture. When they were all suited up and ready, Cordell inspected his troops.
“Today, we’re going to get up close and personal with a god,” he said. “When we get the signal, I want you to fill Vraba up with so much slinger fire that his own mother wouldn’t recognize him. The index takes priority next. Then we’re going to grab Giles, head to his quarters, and get the Chalice of Hana. Understood?”
“There’s no chance this flattening is going to get dispersed, right?” asked Boots.
“It’s a passive spell,” answered Malik. “Just like your curse was. Can’t disperse something inside you.”
“Enough gabbling,” said Cordell. “Y’all ready to be legends again?”
“Yes, sir!” came the unified chorus.
The eagle gave them an approving nod. “Sweet. Mister Jan, do your thing.”
Malik gestured for Boots and the twins to gather around him. “Stare into the glyph, if you please.”
His veins bulging with strain, Malik carved out a one-meter purple glyph, which began to turn like a vortex. Boots watched as each smoky ligature stretched and twisted, forming layers of laminar flow. She found herself transfixed by the interplay of skeins of magic, sparkling and shifting before her eyes. The tension in her gut dissipated, and she let out a long breath.
It would be okay. Everything was going according to plan.
All her concerns faded away, and the knots in her brain began to untangle. The room swelled before
her, gently swaying in her vision. The spell filtered through her nervous system like soothing medicine, relaxing every aggravated muscle. The load upon her shoulders lightened; she could almost drift away on the breeze if she wished.
The room’s lights smeared and wavered as she shook her head to and fro. She giggled a little, making them dance before her.
“Are they under?” asked Cordell.
She was walking. The eagle said to follow him.
You’re my only wing, so you’d better stay on this bird.
The first time he’d said that to her, explosions pumped the air like a bass beat. Spells slammed their tiny outpost, and the Capricious took off in pursuit of the attackers. She’d hated him then.
Hated. Then loved. Then hated. Then loved again.
A long forest stretched before Boots. The eagle took her soaring through the trees. They passed a lake. Did the eagle want fish? This place had a fish, and his name was the concierge. He was annoying. Maybe they could eat him. Bears and eagles both ate fish, and she was a bear.
Or was she a wing? Wasn’t someone else the bear now?
Somewhere, on another world, she lay dormant and broken, her canopy shattered, her eyes glazed over. Was it Clarkesfall? No. She’d been shattered there, but her body rested in the docks of Harvest. The mechanics were putting her back together, and while they did, her spirit traveled the galaxy to this horrid place.
So many other animals filled this forest: squirrels, sparrows, beavers, ducks, and even the goldfish.
“Eat the fish, eagle,” Boots said, pointing to the goldfish from her perch.
The eagle pressed his wing tips to her lips and whispered, “Please shut the hell up,” because he was a wise bird. And then they were landing, steadily descending toward a much larger prey. With the flesh of the reindeer, they would feast for many cycles. All they had to do was kill a crow. It was a simple task for an eagle, but what did she know? She was only a wing.
They’d reached a clearing where other animals stood vigil in totemic silence. Many of the animals turned to them, but the crow and the reindeer continued talking.
The eagle opened his beak to speak once more, his voice soft and full of wisdom.
He said, so quietly as to be profound, “The eagle has landed. We’re in position.”
“Copy,” said god. Or was he a prince? They were all royalty in the heavens.
“Excuse me!” called the eagle in his vast knowledge. His voice was so sonorous, so musical that all the other animals in the clearing perked up at the sound. “Before you make that trade, I have something you might want.”
“And what might that be?” called the crow.
And Boots nearly shouted, “You, Crow! We want your meat!” But she didn’t, because she was only a wing, and wings had no mouths.
When the eagle spoke again, it didn’t sound quite right. “I’ve got the people who’ve been making trouble for you all along, Lord Vraba. These are crew members from the Capricious.”
“Team Wolf,” Armin said in their comms, “Eagle is in play. Execute mission.”
“I’ll take the lobby disperser. Bear, get the autoturret when I do,” said Orna, and Nilah jumped onto her back, scrabbling for handholds under the illusory wolf cloak.
“Let’s go!” Nilah shouted, and Charger launched on all fours underneath her.
The lobby doors came up on them fast, and Nilah ducked close to Charger’s back plates to avoid crashing safety glass. They smashed into the clean, white foyer of the guard station, and Nilah tossed down a portable shield around them, absorbing the initial volley of autoturret fire.
The walls went bloodred with alarm lights as spells splashed against her shield. The energy of the disperser began to eat into the defense, sending hairline cracks across its luminescent blue surface. Thralls leapt from their stations, drawing slingers and firing upon them with merciless impassiveness.
“Get the disperser!” Nilah shouted over the cacophony, and Charger leapt into the air, latching onto the antimagic device like a tiger.
Charger ripped the housing off the wall and hurled it into the distant autoturret, crushing both into molten slag. When the bot hit the ground, it took a glancing shot from one of the thralls. Before the thrall could fire again, however, a lancer round from outside hollowed out his head.
“The turret was supposed to be mine,” called Aisha.
The pilot strode into the room, slinger barrel hot, taking out thrall after thrall, even before Nilah could close ranks with them. Aisha rarely had occasion to cast a glyph in front of Nilah, but she could snap them out almost in the blink of an eye; they didn’t have to be large to aim a pistol.
Nilah leapt the front desk into a pair of thralls who’d taken cover to reload. She landed a savage kick across the first’s face before hooking the other in her elbow. With a spin, Nilah hurled the woman’s head into the corner of the desk. The thrall convulsed, sliding to the floor with a smear of blood.
Only one thrall remained upright after their grim work, and he staggered forward with his jaw hanging at an awkward angle. Nilah traced her glyph and readied to hack his spike with a quick combo of punches and—
Aisha shot him, too.
“What did you do?” Nilah shouted.
The bear’s eyebrow twitched, Aisha’s annoyance showing through. “There are two left, Rabbit.”
Nilah spun to see Charger soaked in blood as it dropped two bodies.
“Did you hack the guy behind the desk?” asked Orna.
Nilah jerked a thumb at Aisha. “Bear shot him.”
Their comms chimed as Armin said, “Focus, Team Wolf. If the thralls are down, cut your way in.”
Charger snapped out the fusion blade, blinding Nilah in the stark white room.
Her eyes adjusted as Charger closed the gap to the interior door and took a slash. The sword bounced harmlessly off the wall, leaving no damage save for a few smoky streaks.
Oh, no.
Orna took another swipe as the lockdown alarms blared. The lobby blast shutters slammed down behind them, and the room began to flood with gas. Nilah took as deep a breath as she could and held it, gesturing for Aisha to do the same.
“Hold on,” said Orna. “Never liked this sword, anyway.”
Charger pulled out the eidolon crystal they’d found in Bill Scar’s quarters, now in its hyperbattery induction housing. When Orna attached it to the sword, heat washed from the blade like a blinding star. Nilah would’ve screamed if it weren’t for the copious amounts of neurotoxin filling the lobby.
Charger made a trio of white-hot slices through the lobby door and kicked it into the corridor beyond, metal edges dripping syrupy orange. The fusion blade turned to ash, and Orna ejected the hyperbattery cable from the spent sword handle, where it spooled away.
Slinger bolts lanced out from the opening as thralls fired from cover. Team Wolf couldn’t charge inside without taking too much fire.
Charger threw down the second expendable shield, and Orna bellowed, “Bear! Let’s go!”
Aisha forced the opposition heads down with her pinpoint shots, but she couldn’t hit everyone at once. With clean air, she was able to shout, “Rabbit! Get them out of cover!”
Nilah sprinted down the hallway toward the nearest collapsible barricade. When their assault had stuttered, it gave the guards inside time to erect defenses. Nilah leapt the first barricade to find a furious thrall completing a poison glyph. Not giving him a chance to lay his hands on her, Nilah pounded his gut with her boot, sending him stumbling into the open.
Aisha’s shot took the top of his head off, and his spell popped. Nilah raised her hand before peeking over the cover to find Aisha advancing on her position.
“Next!” called the pilot.
Zigzagging down the hallway, Nilah made her way toward the next target. Her heart raced with each step in the open. She’d almost reached the second mobile barricade when a metallic chittering filled her ears—something she hadn’t heard in over a year—springf
lies.
The mechanical beasts rounded the corner and leapt for Nilah’s face, their scything arms stretched wide in all directions. There was no time to cast her mechanist’s mark. There was scarcely time to blink.
Aisha’s slinger bolt whizzed by Nilah’s head, and the closest springfly exploded in a comet of shrapnel, bits of metal digging into Nilah’s skin. It knocked the others off course, and she had just enough time to slide to avoid having her head lopped off.
Charger pounded into the melee, its AI-calibrated manipulators snatching the bots out of midair in graceful sweeps. It smashed the bots against walls and into each other, their thin blades tinking harmlessly off regraded steel plates. Aisha blasted the ones that managed to crawl onto Charger’s back to take a swipe at sensitive electronics.
At the far end of the corridor, the thralls took advantage of the distraction to mount a heavy slinger on a tripod. Nilah would never reach the emplacement in time and grabbed her slinger to take a few shots. A blue shield descended over the tripod, and her bolts bounced harmlessly off.
“Get out of the way, Rabbit,” grumbled Orna, scraping off the last springfly like a barnacle. She jammed the hyperbattery cable into Charger’s legs, and the bot made a noise like a race car in top gear. Its lenses went white, and it sunk into a crouch.
Nilah flattened against the deck as Charger launched shoulder-first, slamming through the series of barricades. Thralls, guns, and duraplast were scattered through the hall, but Orna smashed against the emplacement shield without penetrating it in the slightest. She reared back and gave it a supercharged kick, and this time it tore like gelatin. With the shield down, the bot made short work of the tripod crew.
Crawling over to the nearest downed thrall, Nilah checked his pulse—still alive. She shoved him onto his stomach and traced her mechanist’s glyph, psychically linking with the neural spike. Security was heavier on this one than Bill’s, but she could power through it with little difficulty.
When the thrall’s eyes flickered open, he smiled at her, turning Nilah’s stomach. He’d gone from murderous to servile, and she knew he probably wanted neither.