by Rachel Caine
Typhon was burning through the last of his fuel cells, the shimmer of his shields faltering. Dammit, he just couldn’t get it through his head that going balls-out wasn’t always the solution.
“Fight smarter, not harder,” I muttered.
Bea nodded. “They’re going to lose power, maybe even life support.”
“Typhon is desperate,” Nadim said, and his fear laced through me. “The massacre . . . it damaged him. He isn’t capable of strategy, only attack.”
PTSD, I guessed, or some Leviathan equivalent.
“He’s going to get himself and everyone on board killed. Talk to him, Nadim. This battle is winnable, but he needs to fall back. We can handle cleanup.”
I didn’t hear the Leviathan exchange, but I sensed it. Then Nadim said, “He’s afraid of being boarded again.”
It had to be terrifying for Typhon to admit that, but maybe it was also progress, a sign that he’d started seeing Nadim as an equal. “Tell him to trust us and kick clear.”
With Bacia’s drones, we could mop up the rest of the Phage, even with our limited resources. I was known for coming up aces when I seemed to have a nothing hand and . . .
A shuddering boom rocked us from the docking bay, and another lance of pain tore through Nadim. I swore.
“How is it those damn contractors can’t settle down and be thankful they’re not getting their faces eaten in vacuum?”
“I’ll go,” Bea said.
“Try singing to them.” I was only half-kidding, and judging from her thoughtful expression, she was considering it.
I focused on the view screen, where Typhon was finally pulling away from the Phage. His retreat forced another split between the surviving swarm; some tried to chase him while Bacia’s drones picked them apart, and the rest came after us.
We can do this. Almost there.
I got on the controls and aimed a sweep across the tightest cluster of Phage, and it was unnerving how impervious they were. As one died in agony, the survivors writhed onward, like an amoeba with no higher thought. These organisms scared the shit out of me.
We were down to five shots, max.
If I didn’t make them count, we’d have passengers on the hull, testing that new plating, searching for the way in. And then—
Nope. Not happening.
Still, my stomach churned with dread. The idea of these things hurting Nadim made me want to go supernova, as if my whole body was a bomb. I have to protect him. I must.
“Zara, calm. We’re together. We have this.” Nadim’s reassuring tone grounded me.
He leapt, away from the Phage, graceful as ever, and that reminded me he wasn’t hurt, and wasn’t damaged like Typhon. The massacre had left him grieving, but he still had Bea and me, so he wasn’t living in the dark like the Elder. Our teasing retreat left the Phage faltering because they couldn’t catch Nadim, and the drones picked off the slow, stupid ones.
“Another shot,” I said.
We blazed half the remaining Phage, and I let slip a little relief. That was when another boom came from the docking bay, and all our power dropped. Shit. I fiddled with the controls frantically, no luck. Soon, we’d be overrun with alien contractors, and I wouldn’t last long without life support. Nadim could still move, of course, but without power, his weapons wouldn’t cycle, and the Phage . . .
“No good deed goes unpunished. Starcurrent, what the hell . . . ?”
“Is fine, on it, restore soon.”
Sure enough, the lights came on about a minute later, and maybe the explosion had worked to settle our unwilling passengers, but the distraction still cost us. The Phage had nearly reached Nadim. He reacted quick; a sweep of his tail lashed most of them away, and Bacia’s drones picked off a couple that made it to the plating. I felt the tiny explosions against his covered skin.
“You okay?”
“Fine. But whatever Starcurrent did drained my reserves. I am . . . tired.” The simplicity of that statement spoke volumes.
He needed to stop fighting, needed to heal properly from the right type of star. If Nadim kept pushing himself, he might slip into dark sleep. I could use the alarm to shock him awake now, but even so . . . it would only be for an emergency burst, if we were in real trouble. We needed to get him nourishment quickly.
And there were still Phage to kill. The drones were almost gone, tag-teamed by groups of individual Phage and ripped apart. We’d told Typhon to step out, and that had to hold. So, what now? We had a few thousand of these damn bugs left to swat, and I legit did not know—
“Zeerakull, we arrive! Death to our enemies!” A triumphant roar came across our comm and my mouth dropped open.
“Suncross?”
“Sorry, am late to party. Docking bay discharge problems.”
The lizards’ ship—surprisingly elegant and needle-sharp for such a blunt-object species—appeared on-screen, and I had never been so glad to see anyone in my life. Suncross commenced firing a weapon I’d never seen before, short burst missiles that exploded at the heart of the Phage. He also had something that jetted from the front of the ship and seemed to . . . glue them together, for lack of a better word.
That cohesion made them a better target for Bacia’s few remaining drones. Between those and Suncross’s obvious delight in slaughtering Phage, we managed one more railgun shot and finished the stragglers near the Sliver.
If there were any Phage left, they damn sure were going to have a story to tell at happy hour, and that story would be Do not fuck with us.
I let out a breath and then contacted Starcurrent.
“Get those assholes off my ship.”
And then? We were having words with Bacia. If they had weapons effective against the Phage, it could mean they knew something about them. And I wanted every scrap of data before we blew this shitty station.
Deep down, I had chills that wouldn’t quit. Because Bacia had been right. The Dark Travelers did draw the Phage. These monsters were hunting.
Hunting Typhon and Nadim.
FROM THE UNOFFICIAL PUBLICATION THE BRAVE EXPLORER’S GUIDE TO THE GALAXY
Source: Bruqvisz Planetary Database, unlicensed copy
Tip # 465
Out there, the single greatest threat you’ll face is the Phage.
Depending on the type of ship, danger levels vary. Leviathan berths are difficult to secure, and if you’re lucky enough to be chosen, you’ll end up fighting this plague sooner or later. Explosive deep-space drones are most efficient. Since these beasts are small and fast, many typical ship weapons are ineffective. If possible, we recommend a matter-fusion gun, which magnetizes their chitin temporarily, resulting in a larger cluster for a pleasing and glorious target-rich encounter.
Many ships have been lost to the Phage and their hunger, but their bodies break down for excellent salvage value! There is nothing quite so satisfying as profiting from victory in battle, brave explorer.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Binding Wrath
BACIA WANTED TO see us the second we docked. Fine. I wanted to see their shiny ass too. I left Bea in charge and stomped down to the docking bay.
The second I opened the door, I scanned the crowd, found the boss in his heavy metal suit, and pointed at him. “You!” I made that a full roar. “Get over here now!”
There had been some serious battling done in here. Half the crew looked wrecked; those who’d been able to remove their suits looked bruised, some bloody, in all the assorted colors that might entail. The crew boss clanked over to me, and that expressionless faceplate stared down at me.
“Well?” I glared right back. “What the hell? We saved your asses, and you know it!”
“All we know is you kidnapped us. With no provision for ransom or overtime.” I thought if he could have shrugged, he would have. “Should have given us terms. If ransoming, transmit details. If overtime pay, we have to approve.”
“We were about to be killed and so were you!”
“If we died, station pays out
to our designated kin, but only up to quitting time. You put that at risk.” He pulled a handheld and did something to it. “Double-time mynt for keeping us after end of shift. Triple fita for kidnap bonus.” He thrust it at me. “Sign.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“Sign or we start taking off the armor plates. Self-drilling. Self-uninstalling too, in case of nonpayment.”
Now I was angry. Seeing-red angry. I should’ve left these assholes to die. Since I’d transferred the remainder of my mynt and fita to Suncross, I couldn’t afford to pay out this bonus. They were removing Nadim’s upgrades over my dead body, though.
“Fine,” I growled. “It was a kidnapping. Pay your ransom or I’ll end you.”
“You can’t demand retroactive ransom after releasing prisoners!”
I got right up in his faceplate, ready to crack it open like a walnut and drag his ass out of the suit for a beating. “And you can’t call our rescue a criminal act!”
“Supervisor Khem.” Bacia’s voice boomed out of the communicator attached to the crew boss’s utility belt. Though I couldn’t see his expression and doubted I could read it, even if I could, there was no mistaking the tremor as he picked up the unit.
“Yes, High One?” That was a weird way to translate the honorific, but this alien was just about performing an obeisance to his comm.
“I need to speak with Zara Cole. You will not delay her. You have been paid in full. Do you understand this?”
“Yes, High One.” Then he bowed to me, or at least that was what it looked like.
I was still mad, but since I wanted to see Bacia too, there was no point in fighting with one of their minions. Marko caught up with me as I strode through the docking honeycomb toward the long, dark tunnel that would deposit us on Tier One.
“Bea told me to keep you from blowing up the Sliver, but given your current expression, that might’ve been ambitious. Maybe we could just take out a few tiers?”
“Keep laughing,” I muttered.
He was right, though. If I went in on Bacia at a million watts, I’d lose the negotiation. At least theoretically, they owed us something for defending their outlaw space station, and I’d get more out of this deal if I didn’t storm in ready to pull their face off. As I emerged onto Tier One, I took a deep breath. Another. The air smelled faintly of chemicals, of alien bodies, and the wash of that strange chemical cocktail comforted me, oddly. It wasn’t the smoke and spice of the Zone, but it reminded me that I could adapt anywhere, and that flexibility made me strong.
“You’ve never gone for a face-to-face with Bacia,” I said to Marko.
He shook his head. “Chao-Xing prepped me. Don’t make eye contact. Don’t let them get too deep in my head.”
“Sure,” I said. “Let’s see how well that works out.”
I launched off the platform and luxuriated in the rush of the gravity well carrying me up to the Peak. Landing smoothly, I waited for Marko, secretly amused at his reaction when we came up to the featureless white wall. For a few seconds, I considered being an ass and seeing how long it would take him to figure things out.
We didn’t have time to burn, though. Typhon must have been going wild with the desire to bail on the Sliver and get out there, continue searching for Leviathan survivors. Nadim shared that worry, but he wasn’t irrational with it. Yet. I tried to imagine how I’d feel, if Bea and I were the only humans alive as far as I knew; I figured I’d be desperate too, not knowing if our cousins were out there. I hurried us through the tech-checks and only savored Marko’s reaction a little when our breath got us into Bacia’s inner sanctum.
“Nadim?” I whispered.
“I’m here.” Hearing his voice was reassuring, but it helped even more when he touched my mind lightly, not a full bond, but just letting me know I had backup.
Okay, game time.
Inside, everything was the same as before, and I made sure not to look right at Bacia. Even so, their presence crashed over me, a commingling of dismay and awe that left my stomach spinning. Marko grabbed onto me for support; that was how unprepared he was for the impact of Bacia’s preternatural charisma.
Bacia leaned forward, and even though I was holding up every bit of mental shielding I could manage, I still felt the impact of their attention. Like being hit by a grenade. “You have my thanks, Zara Cole. I would have lost much, if you and your Dark Travelers had chosen not to defend.”
“We didn’t do it out of fealty,” I said. “And we don’t have to do it again, either.”
They didn’t like that. The room chilled, so that I could see my breath. “Do not test me, human. I could turn you into a smear on the floor, and no one could gainsay me.”
Marko tried to speak, possibly to argue that claim, but he ended up choking at a fleeting glance. His pale cheeks reddened. Up to me, then. I had the advantage of a full and perfect bond with Nadim, strength Marko couldn’t depend on from Typhon. Bacia was trying a power play, wanting to show us who was boss and that we ought to be damn well grateful for their largesse. Beside me, Marko’s knees buckled, and I felt unseen hands dragging me down too. They wanted us beaten and begging.
Lightly, I dropped into the bond, getting distance from Bacia’s glamour or whatever the hell it was. With Nadim as a buffer, I held on, stood straight, and gazed over their head. I couldn’t manage a bored expression, and some strain showed in my voice when I spoke next. No helping that. “Can we get down to business? Because I’m damn tired of carrying your water, Bacia.”
The pressure dropped so fast my ears popped. Marko staggered, and I hauled him upright without making a thing of it. He leaned against me, which spoke volumes on how shaky he was feeling. Bacia’s power was no joke, but I knew better than to let them see they could shake me. Powerful people—on Earth or in deep space—had one thing in common. If you showed weakness, it only made them want to hurt you more.
“I’m done testing,” they said then. “You will not be asked to kneel.”
“Asked?” Marko kept it to a private murmur. He was trying to get his equilibrium back. Good.
Bacia didn’t seem to notice. “I respect your strength, Zara Cole. And yes, we have business to transact. I want you gone from my demesne, but you tally our accounts correctly. I owe you a debt for protecting what is mine.”
Unexpectedly reasonable, but welcome, after dealing with that cockamamie crew boss. “I know what I want in return. The only question is if you’re willing to give it.”
“Ask.” Bacia made that sound like an order.
I gritted my teeth on the surge of annoyance and controlled my temper. My mother was in my head, talking about sugar and vinegar and catching flies, but I never had time for any of that mess. Deep breath.
“You owe us, like you said. And what we need most is drone tech, like we first saw on the dead planet you sent us to, tech you just used on the Phage.”
Earth had drones, of course, but they weren’t built to withstand the pressures of deep space, and we hadn’t aimed our research at energy cells that could run weapons that were compact but powerful, possibly because Earth scientists didn’t know shit about the Phage. The Leviathan still didn’t trust us completely; they’d given us safe tech, not stuff we could use to develop greater weapons of mass destruction.
Safe wouldn’t defeat the Phage. Safe wouldn’t save Nadim, Typhon, and any surviving Leviathan we found later.
“This is a great deal of fita,” they said. Textbook negotiating. Oh, no, if I pay that you’re taking food from my children. “This tech is a legacy from the Great Ones.”
“The designs might be legacy, but you’re still building them. That makes it current tech. Up for barter.”
They sat back. I wasn’t sure which part of my answer shocked them, but on reflection, it was probably the idea that I knew they weren’t a god, or whatever their real name was, because damned if I’d be calling their shiny ass High One any time soon. “You dare too much, human.”
Maybe, but they hadn’t
slapped me down yet. And they could have. “Why did you want Lifekiller, anyway?”
The name Lifekiller went through them like lightning. They didn’t move. Just stared at me, silent. I waited them out.
Finally, they said, “I require a genetic sample of the Great One. Then he may join his ancestors in peace and glory.”
Meaning, they intended to kill him. Okay. I was fine with that. Danger, I could handle. Lifekiller didn’t belong in our skies.
“Sounds good,” I said. “So. Drone tech?”
“In exchange for what?”
“Bacia. Come on. You already admitted you owe us.”
After a moment, they held up a hand—there was something subtly wrong about their hands, but I couldn’t tell what it was; it just made my mind do that stutter-stop thing as it tried frantically to fit what it saw into an understandable framework—and Jelly Butler came floating out of concealment.
“Transmit drone designs and configurations to the Leviathan ships,” Bacia said. “Arrange for delivery of required materials for construction.” They flicked their fingers, and Jelly Butler drifted off. “Is that acceptable, Zara Cole? You must construct these devices yourself. It will take a great deal of time, but you did not ask for manufacturing thereof.”
They sounded smug. Well, they should be. I’d gotten ahead of myself, and I’d specifically asked for the tech designs. Debating with the devil was a tough business.
“How much to have the construction done here?”
Before Bacia answered me, the Sliver penthouse tier went shrill with klaxons, and the whole damn room flashed red. And I saw something in Bacia’s expression then that I’d never expected.
Fear.
“Or how about you give us the drones, fully operational?” I asked them, because this was the moment to hit that button, hard.
“Fine,” they snapped. “Yes, they will be delivered fully operational. Out. Now.”