The Deep Black Space Opera Boxed Set

by James David Victor

  “The Inferni Cluster.” The weaselly voice startled everyone. Elias had appeared on the bridge in much the same manner as Bayne, like a shadow that had always been there and just decided to make itself known. He did not shrink under the sudden barrage of disapproving glares, as one with any amount of conscience would.

  “Yes,” Bayne said, his eyes open and pinned on Elias. “I do believe the good doctor is correct.”

  “We have no confirmation that Ayala has even moved from this location,” Mao said. “She could still be in there, floating amid the wreckage. We’ve registered no energy signatures coming or going.”

  “She’s already left,” Bayne said. “I can feel it. When we’re close, it’s like, I don’t know, two opposing magnets being pushed together. When she’s gone, I feel the absence of that. You didn’t read any signatures because she doesn’t need a ship to get where she’s going. She can travel through space on her own just like I can. I just like to do it in style.”

  Mao and Bayne exchanged a tense look.

  Mao squeezed his fists. “Tell the fleet to make for the Inferni Cluster.”

  “No,” Bayne interrupted. “We can’t wait for the entire fleet to mobilize. We need to move now before Ayala gets a chance to recharge. As soon as she reaches the cluster, she’ll start getting her strength back.”

  Mao locked Bayne in a glare that could have melted an ice giant. Were he not such a straight-laced man, having his commands questioned on his own bridge would have been a sure way to get keelhauled. But he was sensible, able to keep his composure when every impulse told him to rage, to tear down, to destroy. “What do you suggest?”

  “We go,” Bayne said. “Just the Blue. I can get us there in minutes. But just us. We ride hard, and we finish this.”

  Hep and Wilco walked onto the bridge. They’d docked their ships, which had, to everyone’s astonishment, maintained their form after the battle ended. The rest of the ships, the drones that Bayne created, vanished as though they’d never been. After they boarded, Hep and Wilco assumed their new ships would follow suit.

  Mao watched the two young men stand shoulder to shoulder, something he found even more astonishing than their miraculous ships. “Do you have enough energy to spare,” Mao said, “after all that?”

  Bayne shrugged. “Probably.”

  “Probably,” Mao echoed. He shook his head, looking at his old friend and realizing that he was the most improbable thing on this ship—a Ranger turned decorated Navy captain, dead man turned resurrected space god—and yet, this interaction was all too familiar. “You better get to engineering. Let us know when we’re ready to fly. Delphyne, notify Admiral Jeska of our intentions.”

  Bayne laughed as he clapped Mao on the shoulder. “Such a goddamn stickler.” Bayne left the bridge, gesturing for Hep and Wilco to follow. Hep looked to Mao, which the captain appreciated. He nodded, silently telling Hep to go.

  “The final ride of Captain Drummond Bayne and the Royal Blue!” Bayne shouted as he disappeared down the corridor.

  All Mao could do was smile.

  13

  Bayne looked like a sick man hooked up to tubes in a hospital bed. He most definitely was a sick man, Hep argued to himself, but in a different way.

  “Is this going to work?” Hep asked as Bayne shoved a cable into a port that Akari and Dr. Hauser had implanted in his forearm.

  “No,” Bayne said flatly. “This is a suicide run that I have elaborately and meticulously planned, my final effort to manipulate you all into killing yourselves in your foolish attempt to bring peace and order to the galaxy.” He inhaled sharply. His glow dimmed as energy flowed from him to the engine core to which he was now connected. He laid his head back. When he let it roll forward, he met Hep’s skepticism with impatience. “When are you going to stop being so you? Try to be a little more like him.” He gestured to Wilco.

  “I’ve been telling him that for years,” Wilco said.

  “You could stand to be a little more like him, too,” Bayne said to Wilco, now gesturing to Hep. “Maybe I’ll just mush you two together and make one fully functional human being.” He perked up. “I wonder if I could actually do that.”

  “I’d rather not find out,” Hep said.

  Akari studied the readings on the engine core. “We’re ready.”

  Hep radioed the bridge. The Blue wasted no time, setting into a hard burn immediately. The ship stopped just minutes later, across the system, at the Inferni Cluster.

  The entire crew gathered on the bridge. Bayne, still weak from infusing the ship with his energy, leaned on Hep and Wilco, allowing them to support him as he shuffled along.

  “We have to decide how to proceed,” Mao said, having waited for Bayne to join them before speaking. “We sail further into uncharted territory with each move we make. Bayne, even you, admittedly, are unsure here. I’ve allowed impulsivity to propel us forward, but now we will stop and discuss our actions.”

  Bayne swayed. “If the captain would allow me a moment to compose myself? I’m feeling a bit…drained.” He forced a smile.

  Mao dug his hands into his hips. He seemed to have an internal argument. Hep watched as each side made their arguments and Mao’s face tensed and pulsed. Finally, Mao stepped forward. He gestured toward his command chair. “Sit.”

  Genuine surprise flashed on Bayne’s face. “Captain?”

  “Don’t make me regret this, Drummond.”

  Bayne’s smile came easier now. He clapped Mao on the shoulder, shifting his weight from Hep and Wilco to his oldest friend. Mao clasped Bayne’s arm as he lowered him. Bayne ran his hands along the arms of the chair. For all his seeming omnipotence, in that moment, Drummond Bayne was only a man.

  “Thank you,” Bayne said.

  “The last ride of Captain Drummond Bayne and the Royal Blue,” Mao said. “What’s the plan, Captain?”

  Bayne seemed reluctant to draw himself away from the nostalgia.

  “Can we even get the whole ship in there?” Hep asked, trying to pull Bayne back to the moment.

  “No,” Sigurd said. He’d gone pale, sweat beading on his brow. Being back at the site of his possession by the Void, the moment he ceased to be a human being, was weighing on him. “I could barely navigate a starfighter through there. And the energy moves like it’s alive. Which, well, I guess it is.”

  “And Ayala is connected to it,” Bayne said. “It will be much more volatile than when last you were there. But you’ve got something you didn’t when last you were here: me. I’m connected to it, too. I can get us through. I’ll need to make a few quick modifications first, of course. Some minor tweaks. The Blue may not make it through as is, but she will when I’m done.”

  “We raced out here,” Mao said, “left the fleet behind, because you said time was a crucial factor. And now you want to modify the ship?”

  “It’ll take but a moment, old friend,” Bayne said, gripping the arms of his chair. “Power everything down. And I mean everything—engines, weapons, life support. We’ll be in the dark for a few. When the lights come back on, we’ll be ready to roll.” He closed his eyes. “Don’t everyone go getting all handsy just because I can’t see you.”

  Delphyne looked to Mao for confirmation. Reluctantly, he gave it.

  The bridge disappeared in darkness. The only light came from outside. The swirling colors of the Inferni Cluster looked like a watercolor painting, delicate brush strokes across a black canvas. The artist was a master with fine-tuned muscles and a keen eye for contrast. The movement drew Hep in. He stared at it until he felt his mind drift away. He felt like he was out there among the stars, weightless, without a body, a vessel, he was just a soul floating through heaven. All his worry, his pain, was gone.

  But it came crashing back as he felt the pulsing all around him. He was in his body again, and his heart raced with fear. His blood flooded his muscles with adrenaline. Veins of glowing energy snaked outward from the command chair, from Bayne. Whatever he had done to the engine core,
he was now doing to the entire ship. The lights spread around him, reaching every inch of the ship, digging into its innermost systems.

  Power returned. The rest of the crew looked as awestruck as Hep felt. They gawked at the new control panels, monitors, detection systems, navigation.

  “The hell just happened?” Horus scratched the back of his head as he stared up at the ceiling, looking afraid that something might reach through the hull and grab him.

  Bayne coughed and slumped forward. Mao rushed to help but was met with stiff arm. “I’m fine. Just took a bit out of me is all. To your eloquent question, Horus, I made a few modifications. Most important among them are the shields. They’ll keep Ayala out. She can’t weasel into our systems now the way she did all those other ships. Set course. We’re going in.”

  Mao stood beside Bayne, close enough that only a few could hear him. Hep inched closer. “What of Ayala herself?” Mao’s voice was tight with concern. “Can she be saved the way Sigurd was saved?”

  Bayne stared at his hands as he spoke. “I don’t know. We’re each different. That feeling, that repelling push that I feel when Ayala’s near, I never felt that with Sig. There’s something about me and her, like we were made to be opposites.” He looked up at Mao. “I’ll do what I can.”

  Mao nodded. “I know you will.” He stepped away and took up position near Delphyne.

  “Take us in,” Bayne ordered. “Horus, Sigurd, Hep, Wilco, Bigby, get to the shuttle bay. You’re the away team. I’ll meet you there momentarily.”

  Delphyne and Sigurd locked eyes. So much was conveyed without being said. Hep wished he could freeze time and allow them talk to each other, to finally say all of the things they never got around to saying. He’d been given a second chance. They’d been given a second chance. But now they were being pulled apart again before either could seize it.

  “Tell her when you get back,” Wilco said, shoving Sig toward the door. Hep and Wilco flanked Sig as they marched toward the hangar bay.

  “Do we like you again?” Sig said to Wilco. “The past few months are a bit hazy, but I thought we didn’t like you.”

  “No, people love me now. You really missed a lot.”

  Hep pressed his hands to the airlock door, desperate to see the lights of the Inferni Cluster as they passed through it. He was gripped by the sensation it instilled in him, like he’d tasted a drug and became instantly addicted. The Blue pressed forward, wading through the cosmic waters with gentle but steadfast determination. Hep wanted to stick his hand through the hull and feel the flow of energy wash over him.

  Suddenly, the energy parted, and the ship entered a clearing. The heart of the cluster.

  “So, here’s the thing.” Bayne appeared as though he’d just materialized. “Ayala knew we were coming. And she knows each of us. She’s prepared.”

  “It’s not like we stand a chance against her anyway,” Horus said. “Can’t she just, I don’t know, wish us into a gooey puddle?”

  “She’s not a genie,” Bayne said. “She’s connected to the building blocks of the universe. She can manipulate them, change things around, reorder things to suit her.”

  Horus shrugged. “Sounds like a genie.”

  “She is the most powerful being you’ll ever encounter,” Bayne continued. “But she is not omnipotent. She has one major weakness: me. I’ll get close, lock her down, and expose her to attack. Then you all need to be ready to take advantage of that. Just be ready for her to do anything to stop you.”

  “What sort of things does a space genie do to get in our way?” Bigby asked.

  “Anything she wants,” Bayne said.

  “A simplistic take on things,” a weaselly voice said from behind them all. “But accurate.” Dr. Elias was met with a combination of disdain and disbelief, neither of which seemed to deter him from suiting up for a spacewalk. After he secured his helmet, he answered their unspoken questions. “Oh, I’m coming with. None of you know anything about anything.”

  “No time to argue about it,” Bayne said. “She’s gearing up. Starting to draw power from the cluster. We need to move now.”

  Elias faded into the group, no longer the hated outsider, just another fool marching to his likely death.

  Hep secured his sword to his hip. There was a time that seemed like not so long ago when the blue blade Benevolence had felt like a weight around him, an anchor dragging him down. Now, it felt like the opposite, a lifeline. He felt naked, defenseless without the weight of it hanging on him. Wilco strapped the black blade Malevolence on his back. Hep would have considered that a threat not long ago. Even as children, the specter of violence seemed to cling to Wilco. It still did, but Hep no longer feared it. He didn’t worry that it would be directed at him. At least, he knew now that if it did, he could more than adequately defend himself.

  Bayne’s description of the feeling he got when he was close to Ayala stuck in Hep’s head. The push, like the opposing poles of a magnet. It felt familiar. It felt like him and Wilco. Their entire lives up to this moment, they were opposing forces, always acting at odds even if they had the same goal.

  The team lined up at the airlock door.

  “We’re getting atmospheric readings,” Delphyne said over the comm. “But keep your helmets on at all times. Ayala could be manipulating our scanners.”

  “She’s manipulating the atmosphere,” Bayne said, almost as an afterthought. He still looked weak, but stronger than he was on the bridge. He could stand on his own. The color in his face was returning, but he still looked paler than Hep would want charging into battle. Bayne rolled his head from side to side, something Hep had seen him do numerous times before in the seconds prior to charging into a fight.

  The airlock opened.

  As they all entered, Bayne said, “Stay close to me. I’ll get us to the landing zone. Once there, spread out, surround Ayala, and wait for my signal.”

  The team grunted its acknowledgement. It felt like Bayne was holding something back, like he knew something about what they were about to face. Maybe it was for the best, Hep thought. He probably didn’t want to know what was coming.

  The outer door opened, and there was nothing between the team and open space. They pressed off the ship and floated into the sea of glowing energy. Hep felt it through his suit, the thrum of concentrated power. They kept in a tight cluster, boot thrusters igniting in quick bursts whenever someone began to drift. As they moved further in, Hep felt something else keep guiding him, like an invisible hand had grabbed hold, grabbed all of them.

  Bayne was the nucleus of this atom. He was at the center of the group, drawing them all to him, moving them all as one unit toward something they could not see. The strain on his face was plain even through his mask. “Getting close.”

  The haze of energy cleared. The team emerged into an open space like the one in which Hep and Wilco found Bayne, in the center of the Shallows. Like Bayne’s Golden Age of Piracy ship, this space had been molded by the imagination of its maker. They approached the open deck of an old Needle-class vessel. Hep had read about them in some old literature he’d found in Central. The Navy used them when invading planets. They were common when fighting the warlords who chose to dig in on certain planets rather than wage open war in space. The deck was open so attack vehicles could disembark with greater speed once they broke atmosphere. Personnel loaded into each of the smaller ships through hatches that connected them to the larger ship. Once they pierced through a planet’s atmosphere, the starfighters and personnel transports lifted off and began the ground war. Hep imagined it looked something like kicking a hornet’s nest.

  He scoured his memory, trying to find the connection between Ayala and this ship, whether it was something from a fantasy, as in Bayne’s case, or something more tangible. But something stopped him. A realization that offered Hep some hope. Bayne had transformed his space to represent a personal desire. If Ayala was doing the same, then maybe she was still in there somewhere. Maybe the Void hadn’t taken her
completely.

  The team touched down on the deck of the Needle. The very solid feel of the glowing construct still surprised Hep, despite being no stranger to it by now. It matched the real thing right down to the sound of their boots echoing off the metal.

  They spread out, leaving Bayne at the center of their semicircle. They tightened their grips on their weapons, unsure they would even do any good. They scanned for a threat they weren’t sure they could defeat.

  Hep’s chest tightened. They were fresh off defeating the most massive and dangerous fleet they would ever face. A conglomeration of dead ships so thick it blocked out suns. They’d already accomplished the impossible. And none of it would mean anything if they couldn’t finish off this one last person. So close to the finish line he could see over it, but they were still so far from victory.

  “I’m glad you’ve come.” Ayala appeared from above. “I was worried I’d have to hunt you down. And I’m so tired of this game we’ve been playing.” Her voice did not sound like hers. That was not Shay Ayala speaking. Hep allowed himself for the first time to believe there was nothing of her left.

  She descended like a butterfly onto a flower, beautiful, glowing with the same light that shone from all around, like she was the source of it. She touched down on the deck of the Needle, graceful like a ballerina. Hep had not known her as well as many others, mostly from afar, but he would never have described Admiral Shay Ayala as graceful. But, thinking back on the interactions he’d had with her, he didn’t understand why. Maybe it was the uniform, or the position. All that power and responsibility on someone’s shoulders made it impossible to be light on your feet. Now, shed of the responsibility of control of even her own body, Ayala seemed to have a dancer’s composure.

  “You never were much for playing games,” Bayne said. They stood just feet apart. Their proximity made Hep’s stomach lurch.