Crownchasers

by Rebecca Coffindaffer

  I snort. “Tell that to your parents. Did you seriously call them in for backup out there?”

  It’s kind of hard to tell in just the lights blazing from our survival suits, but I think he actually blushes. “No, that wasn’t me. I swear by the war gods, I don’t know who tipped them off or what the hell they think they were doing.”

  “Sure, Mega,” Faye says, and I check the floor to make sure all the sarcasm dripping off her words hasn’t made a pool around our feet. “Because it’s so unlike your parents to try to butt their way in and make sure you win something.”

  A noise echoes through the tunnel behind me—maybe footsteps? Maybe nothing?—and I whip my head around to check. But the tunnel is empty and dark. “We honestly don’t know what any of us are capable of anymore.” My voice isn’t much louder than a mutter, but it carries well enough in this creepy-ass place. “Not with an empire on the line.”

  This time it’s Owyn who jumps, his hand flying to the butt of his blaster. “Did you hear that?”

  I didn’t, but I’m getting a bad feeling. Bad enough that I’m way more comfortable putting my back to two cutthroat frenemies than leaving it exposed to empty space. Owyn must be sensing the same because pretty soon he’s shoulder to shoulder with me.

  Faye sniffs. “You two are really skittish,” she says, but her voice isn’t quite as steady as it was before. She brings her weapon up to her face like she’s checking the safety or something, but I catch her peeking over her shoulder.

  I pull one hand off my blaster to open another comms channel on my wristband. “Coy?” I say, but I don’t say it very loudly. “Nathalia, can you hear me?”

  Nothing. Just faint static.

  Faye snorts. “Did you lose your pet? That’s kind of irresponsible.”

  “Shut it, Orso. Oh, this is ridiculous.” I snatch a disc-shaped object from my belt, activate it, and throw it up. It latches little claws into the ceiling and then the sides of it open up and it blasts light in a ring all around us, illuminating the tunnels for almost twenty meters in each direction.

  Mine is empty. I exhale, relieved, right as I hear Faye go, “What the hell . . . ?”

  I look over her shoulder. Standing there, just on the edge of the light, is a dark, hooded figure, feet wide apart, hands clutching the biggest damn blaster rifle I’ve ever seen.

  We all stand, frozen, for one heartbeat. Two.

  And then everything explodes in a hail of laserfire.

  Twenty-Seven

  IT TAKES JUST ONE OF THE BOLTS FROM THAT BIG-ass gun searing past my ear for me to decide I do not want to even chance getting hit.

  Owyn must make the same assessment because he drops low and rolls to the side, but Faye stands right where she is, blaster out, trigger going. The look on her face dares you to try to make her move.

  I’ll take that dare.

  I drop my shoulder and plow into her, driving her out of the open intersection and into the mouth of one of the tunnels. She curses loudly as she hits the ground, me falling on top of her.

  “What the hell, Farshot?!”

  I scramble up, offering her a hand. “I’m usually all for laughing in the face of danger, but not this time. Get your ass up, Orso, come on.”

  She scowls but still takes it, and we move as a unit to the corner of the tunnel wall, her going high, me crouching low. Across the tunnel intersection, Owyn is doing the same thing, and it’s kind of impressive how small he can make himself considering how massive his frame is. On the ground in between us are the smoking remains of three camera drones. The hooded figure went for them first. Probably the only reason any of us made it out of the initial flurry unscathed.

  I peek around the corner. The person stands there, bold as hell, and lays the hammer down on their rifle, sending these cannon-sized shots at our squishable heads.

  “Shit!” I pull back, and then stick my blaster out and send a stream of fire in their general direction. Just holding down the trigger and hoping for the best.

  I stop. Faye stops. So does Owyn. Everything is dead quiet. We exchange looks, and then I inch my nose into the open.

  BLAM!

  I pin myself against the tunnel wall again, my pulse pounding rabbit fast in my throat. I can still feel the heat of the shot across my face. “Lively, that one. We could probably use a few more guns.”

  Faye growls and leans over me, sticking her arm around the corner to lay down another round of suppressing fire. “Who the hell is it?”

  I check the charge in my gun. Eighty-three percent. Gives me a bit of time before it overheats and needs a recharge. “The Megas again, maybe? A backup in case the blockade didn’t delay us enough?”

  “Could be, but it didn’t exactly look like they were trying to miss Owyn. What about Setter? He landed right behind me, but I haven’t seen him yet.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t think it’s Setter. This isn’t really his style.”

  “You just said none of us know each other anymore in the middle of a crownchase.”

  “I did. I did say that. Thanks, Faye.”

  She shrugs and unloads another round of blaster fire.

  I rack my brain about Setter, trying to think of everything I know about him, seeing if I can imagine him in any capacity pulling a stunt like this. But it doesn’t fit. Setter is a rule follower to a fault, and killing any of us disqualifies him from the chase.

  I glance over at Owyn across the way. “Any chance this could be another one of your family’s tricks?”

  He steps out to get a clearer angle and gets maybe twenty rapid-fire shots off before narrowly dodging a single, massive blast from our mysterious guest. He crouches, panting, and then shakes his head.

  “I wanna say no, but I wasn’t expecting the blockade either, so . . .”

  My wristband beeps, and I hear Hell Monkey’s voice very quietly speaking from the other end.

  “Alyssa, I’m working at being really calm here, but if you’ve got a second to let me know why I’m hearing godsdamned blaster fire in there, I would really appreciate it.”

  Faye laughs out loud, and several shots explode against the corner we’re hiding behind.

  She clicks her tongue. “Not a fan of laughter apparently . . .”

  “I’m here, H.M., I’m here,” I say, quickly bringing my wristband closer to my mouth. “There’s . . . a third party down here.”

  “Third party?”

  “Not a crownchaser. At least, we don’t think so. We don’t know who they are. But they’re definitely trying to kill us. Listen, you need to warn Coy. She’s not with me—I don’t know where she is. Warn Setter too, if you can make that happen. I don’t know if there are more out there or what, but just in case . . .”

  “I’m on it.” Hell Monkey pauses and then adds, “You better make it back, Farshot.”

  The comm cuts off before I can respond, but his words wrap around my chest. I feel them every time I inhale.

  I tighten my fingers around my blaster and push onto my feet. I must have ready to start shit all over my face because Faye raises her eyebrows at me expectantly.

  “On three,” I tell her. “One . . .”

  Her lips curl into a grin. “Two . . .”

  “Three.”

  We step out together, side by side, barrel to barrel, lighting up that whole tunnel with round after round of blaster fire, and it takes a full three seconds before I realize we’re shooting at empty air.

  “Hold up! They’re gone!”

  We let up on our triggers, and the silence that oozes in around us makes my stomach sink. I swing around to put my back against Faye’s, scanning everywhere.

  The tunnels are empty. The intersection is empty.

  Owyn eases out from his hiding spot to join us. His heavy brows lower even farther down on his face. “Where the hell did they go?”

  Faye’s still pointing her blaster at where the figure used to be, and her free hand taps nervously against the side of her thigh. “Beating a hasty retreat
? Maybe they decided they didn’t like the odds?”

  I shake my head. “The odds weren’t really working against them. I’d say they had the situation pretty well in hand.”

  We stand together in our little cluster. All I can hear is our breaths hitting the cold air hard and fast. My eyes catch sight of the hand scanner Coy gave me, sitting on the ground where I dropped it in the initial exchange of blaster fire. Its screen blinks green, on and off, on and off, pointing me in the direction of the beacon. I should go over and grab it, but I don’t really want to move.

  “So . . .” says Owyn. “What now? Do we just . . . get back to it?”

  Faye looks back at me. There’s a sheen of nervousness to her eyes that you don’t usually see in an Orsion pirate. She shakes her head, just slightly. “No one brings a gun like that just to make some fireworks and then bust out of here.”

  My skin’s about to vibrate off my body. Everything has gone ass over tail down here. I tap my wristband to open a channel to Hell Monkey.

  “Hey, H.M., feel like doing me a favor?”

  “Waiting on your every word, Captain.”

  “You want to see if Vagabond’s scanners can get a look down here? We . . . uh . . . lost our mysterious assassin.”

  There’s a stream of quiet curses and then a “yeah, sure,” which has a lot of layers of unsaid stuff underneath it like are you kidding me and what the hell do you mean you lost them and you’re gonna make me come down there, Farshot.

  Echoes ricochet off the faceted walls. Something passes over us that sounds like a distant moan, and my gaze drifts up the wall to fixate on one of the frozen corpses preserved in crystal. I shiver.

  “Give me good news, Hell Monkey. Please.”

  His sigh fills up the whole comms channel. “Sorry, Captain. Whatever material is in this asteroid, it’s not sensor friendly. Everything’s bouncing back. It’s amazing we got a read off the beacon at all.”

  And probably why the hand scanners are having trouble pinning down its exact location. Dammit. I’m honestly at a total loss. We’re not exactly down here to play nice together, but running off on our own with that shadow guy who-knows-where seems stupid as hell.

  Then again, standing around like idiots in the middle of this intersection doesn’t seem much better.

  I glance up at Owyn, who meets my eyes and then shifts a little closer. His face is pinched and worried, and he starts tapping a message on his wristband. Probably to his companion—Gear—I’m guessing, but I don’t want to seem like I’m peeking, so I look away.

  Which means I’m half a second late in seeing the air right in front of Owyn ripple.

  Half a second late in turning as the hooded figure appears, aglow with the light of the plasma blade held out in front of them.

  Half a second late to do something—anything—to stop them as they lunge forward and drive that blade right through the middle of Owyn Mega’s chest.

  Twenty-Eight

  OWYN DOESN’T SCREAM. HE JUST GAPES, HIS FACE stretched with horror and surprise, and then the hooded figure twists the plasma blade and wrenches it free. Owyn collapses in a heap.

  The air smells like seared flesh and scorched rock. There’s the echo of a scream still ricocheting off the corridor walls. I think it’s mine. I think I made that sound. But I can’t really remember. I’m having trouble tearing my eyes from Owyn’s body and the deep purple otari blood spreading across his back.

  Movement in my peripheral vision. I look up right into the barrel of that massive blaster rifle. I bring my own gun up, but I know it’s going to be too late. I’m thinking about all those places I never got to see, all the things I never did tell Hell Monkey, and then—

  BLAM!

  Faye’s suddenly beside me, blaster hot, and the figure staggers as their shot goes wide, catching me in the left shoulder.

  This time I definitely do scream. That was definitely me. Because holy stars and gods that fucking hurt.

  Our mystery guest clutches the wound in their chest, and we don’t even give them a second to realize how screwed they are. I wrench my gun up, and Faye and I blast that bastard with laserfire until they stagger and drop to the ground.

  “Stop!” I throw an arm out in front of Faye as the figure crumples, and she lets up on the trigger.

  “What are you doing, Farshot? You take it out while it’s already down—”

  “No, I wanna see it!”

  I scramble over to them, kicking away the plasma blade they dropped, snatching the blaster rifle out of their loose fingers. They lie on their back, one leg bent unnaturally underneath them, blood staining their dark clothes. It looks gray. I don’t know of any species in our quadrant with gray blood. Their hood has fallen away, but there’s a mask covering their entire head.

  I rip it off with blood-slicked fingers and immediately jerk backward, falling on my ass.

  They have no face.

  I’ve seen a ton of different species. I’ve met a ton of different races. I’ve seen humanoids with no mouths or no ears, no noses or no eyes.

  But never no face altogether.

  They turn their head toward me, but I don’t really know if they’re looking at me. How do they even see? I glance at their torso, watching for movement, any sign of breathing, but there’s nothing. Everything about them is still save for the trickle of their blood.

  “Who the hell are you?” My voice comes out in a growl. Like a cornered-animal sound. Which makes sense because I feel pretty cornered right now. I get low, putting my face right up to their empty skin. “Not having a mouth doesn’t mean you can’t answer, so start talking and I just might have a med patch or two to put on some of these holes you recently acquired. Who sent you? How did you know where we were and why did you . . . did you . . . ?”

  I can’t finish the words. I want to be intimidating, to scare answers out of them, but my shoulder is on fire with pain and my whole body is starting to shake with adrenaline and shock.

  They don’t say anything. I don’t even know if they can hear me.

  Their arm twitches, and I glance up just in time to see them pull a dagger out of nowhere and swing it in a brutal downward arc.

  I jerk back—but it was never intended for me. They plunge the blade right into their own temple.

  Gray blood sprays across my face. Their body twitches, shudders, and goes limp.

  I push away, wiping at my eyes and nose with trembling fingers. Half crawling, half stumbling, I make my way back over to where Faye crouches beside Owyn. She has one of his big, rock-scarred arms in her hands, her thumbs pressed to an otari pulse point along the inside of his elbow. Her luminous gold eyes find me, and she shakes her head.

  “Nothing,” she says, her voice very quiet.

  I don’t listen to her. I throw my good shoulder against Owyn’s body to roll him flat on his back and fumble with a pocket on my belt. I wasn’t lying to the assassin. I do have a couple of med patches, and I struggle to open one up with my shaking hands, one of which is starting to go a little numb as the gunshot wound continues to bleed and bleed.

  Faye puts a hand on my arm. “Alyssa, what are you—”

  “Just help me with this, would you?”

  “He’s gone. There’s no point—”

  “It’s one stab wound, Faye. Otari are too tough to go down with one stab wound.”

  “They put a plasma blade straight through his heart. He’s not coming back from that—”

  “Faye Orso, would you just godsdamn help me?!”

  “Alyssa Farshot, would you just godsdamn listen?!” She grabs my face, pressing it between her hands. “There isn’t a med patch anywhere on this rock that’s going to put an entire heart back together. It’s over. Stop.”

  I stare at her—at the thin glowing lines curving over her face, at the luminescent cascade of her hair like thousands of fiber optic strands—and then my body gives out and I curl forward until my forehead touches my knees. I don’t cry. I just breathe, slow, shaky breaths i
nto the acrid, plasticky smell of my survival suit.

  Faye presses a hand against my shoulder. “Honor is calling it in to authorities. They’ll come get him. We should go.”

  I don’t say anything.

  “There could be more jackasses with big guns about.”

  “You go,” I tell her without raising my head. “I need a minute.”

  Silence. And then, in a completely disaffected voice like she doesn’t even care anymore: “Fine, have it your way.”

  There’s a scrape and a rustle as she gathers her stuff, and then I hear the clomp of her grav boots moving away. I bring my head up, looking around.

  Just me and two dead bodies.

  And a voice in the darkness. “Alyssa, tell me you’re okay.”

  Hell Monkey.

  “I’m here,” I tell him, because saying that I’m okay feels like a lie. “I’m . . . I’m here.”

  “What happened? Are you hurt?”

  I look down at my left arm, at the blast wound and the blood dripping down my skin and suit. I probably have less of my own blood on me than I do of Owyn or . . . whatever that person was. “Nothing serious.”

  I stare down at Owyn. At his face frozen with shock even as his eyes are dead and empty. I remember when he and I were kids and how much bigger he had always been compared to me. How invincible he had seemed. And now . . . This is it. This is all that’s left of him.

  “Talk to me, Farshot. What are you doing?”

  My eyes land on his wristband, and I remember that he’d been typing something. Just before. I grab his hand and pull up the message. I’d guessed right—he’d been trying to send something to Gear.

  Just in case I don’t make it back up, you should know that I lov

  That’s it. That’s all he’d managed to type. Seeing that word hanging there, unfinished, makes my chest ache. It’s not right for it to be frozen, here, on his wristband forever.

  “Alyssa?”

  I type the last four letters that Owyn couldn’t, send it, and then drag myself onto my feet. It takes a second to locate the wreckage of all the camera drones and rifle through the parts, but I manage to find two out of the three memory drives more or less intact. I shove them into my pockets, slap a seal on the torn-up shoulder of my suit, and head back up the tunnel, retracing my steps.