by M. R. Forbes
“Why not?”
“We’re in an unmarked, Outworld ship for one. Which is all fine and dandy when you’re on the Fringe or in the Outworlds, but Feru is deep inside Republic space. For another, this is our best chance to get out of this shitty deal.”
“What do you mean?”
Bastion smiled. “Think about it. If Mann is dead, he can’t send the signal to unleash the hounds. We’re home free. You can go back to Earth and your kid, and I can go back to, well, wherever the frag I want to go.”
“He has a point,” Benhil said, appearing from the lower deck. Pik came up right behind him.
“What’s going on?” Pik asked.
“Captain Mann is up the comet,” Bastion said. “Queenie here wants to go rescue him. I say frag it, let him die.”
“You were on Drune, weren’t you?” Abbey asked. “Whatever is happening is bigger than two stolen starships. It’s bigger than our freedom.”
“No it isn’t,” Pik said. “We’ve got another way out, and we should take it.”
“What the hell good is freedom if some nutjob is just going to come along and take it all away?” Abbey asked. “We need to stop him, not make things easier for him.”
“I vote to let him die,” Bastion said.
“This isn’t a democracy,” Abbey said. She was starting to get angry again. She could feel the Gift responding.
“It sort of is,” Pik said. “You’re outnumbered four to one.”
“Four to two,” Ruby said, moving to stand beside Abbey.
“So you assholes are going to mutiny over this? Trying to save a man’s life? He got you out of Hell, whether you like the terms or not.”
“I only ask myself one question,” Benhil said. “What’s in it for me?”
“I won’t kill you,” Abbey replied.
“Go ahead and try,” Pik said. “You can’t take us all at once.”
Abbey looked at each of the Rejects. She could feel her body shaking with anger. She had nearly fragging died for them, and this was how they were going to pay her back?
“You all deserved to be in Hell, didn’t you?” she spat. “The only way we aren’t going to Feru is over my dead body.”
The others froze, trying to decide what to do. Abbey raised her hands, ready to attempt to use the Gift, even if she wasn’t sure it would work. It didn’t feel the same as it had before. It was present, but it seemed weaker.
“I can’t do it,” Pik said, backing down. “You came back for Airi and me on Drune. I owe you for that.”
“Me, too,” Airi said.
Abbey glanced at Bastion and Benhil. Bastion shrugged and walked away, going back to the cockpit.
“I look like an asshole for the second time today, don’t I?” Benhil said. “Feru it is, I guess.”
He started climbing the ladder.
“Here, Queenie,” Airi said, handing her another bar. Abbey took it eagerly, tearing the wrapping off and taking a bite. “I just want to go home,” she said. “My parents think I’m dead.”
“You will,” Abbey said.
“Queenie, there’s something you should know,” Ruby said.
“What is it?”
“I thought it might be helpful to see how the crew reacted to the news. There is a complication.” She paused, biting her lower lip. The way she did it, it was clear the move was designed to be enticing. “The kill signal is on a timer. If Captain Mann doesn’t reset it, the clock will hit zero, and the transmission will go out.”
“What?” Airi said.
“If Captain Mann dies, you all die,” Ruby replied.
5
Gant remained sitting against the blast door inside the Brimstone’s engine room for a few minutes, trying to calm himself down. He pulled a small piece of metal wire from his lightsuit, manipulating it in one hand, bending it into the shape of a Gantean Suzeen, a three-dimensional, twelve-pointed star.
He had been planning to sabotage the ship, to break the engines and leave it stranded so that Abbey could come and find them. He had been expecting a standard disterium conversion reactor, a device he knew well.
Instead, he had been treated to a split-second look at a fragging monstrosity. A fragging nightmare.
He closed his eyes, and it was the only thing he could see. Bodies. Terran bodies, pressed against the walls of the compartment and hanging from the ceiling, held aloft by a dark material that was wrapped around their arms and legs. They had tubes running into and out of them. One was carrying a nearly clear material to them. Water? Nutrients? The other tubes were blood red and connected to a machine in the center.
The Terrans were alive, their eyes open, their chests moving slightly up and down as they breathed. There were at least one hundred of them, though he was sure it was more. He couldn’t see all the way to the back of the space.
The device in the middle was tech of some kind. It was made of alloy, matte black like the starship that had been in orbit around Orunel, the one that belonged to the assholes that attacked the planet. It had the connectors sticking into it, and a transparency in the back that showed both the current level of the collected blood and other pipes and tubes that revealed the plasma swirling through it. The blood that moved through the machine was darker in color, and it looked thicker. It reminded him of the blood that had poured out of blue-hair’s neck when Abbey chopped her head off.
He had no idea how it worked, and he hoped he never needed to learn. Whatever this was, it wasn’t right. It wasn’t sane. How could the Republic have created something like this? How could they approve of it?
He didn’t have a high opinion of the masters he had once served, but he was pretty sure they wouldn’t have. That meant Eagan Heavyworks knew what this ship was. And if that were true, didn’t it also mean they had helped Thraven steal it?
And what the hell was the ship? How could he even define it? It was using Terrans as some kind of horrible fuel source? What might it be using for weaponry? Fragging fetuses?
The idea made him nauseous. His fingers worked more quickly, folding the metal into a Suzeen. He had to do something, but what? Obviously, his original plan wasn’t going to work.
If he could get in, could he save the poor bastards inside? Could he at least put them out of their misery? What if life support was dependent on the reactor? He would be killing himself, and while it might get one of the ships out of Thraven’s control, it would make it harder for Abbey to find out where they had taken the other one.
“Plan B,” he said to himself, swallowing his fear. “Get the beacon up. Let Abbey figure out what to do with this horror show.”
He pulled himself up on shaky legs, making his way over to the terminal on this side of the blast doors. He activated it, hopeful that the system wouldn’t report its use. It didn’t matter. It was secured. He would need the command key to get in. He backed away from it. The comm systems were likely a different story. They would be using those systems, and he doubted they would lock up every time they were finished.
He returned to the external hatch, opening it and peering out into the corridor. It was clear. He ducked out of the engine room and hurried down the hall. He would have to head closer to the bridge, closer to the enemy, to find an open terminal. He was an engineer, not a ninja, but hopefully, his size would make it easier not to get caught.
It took close to ten minutes, but he finally found himself closing in on the occupied part of the starship. He moved more cautiously when he did, keeping out of sight of the assholes, hugging the walls and slipping behind frame supports whenever he spotted one that might have spotted him.
He opened the nearby hatches in turn, seeking out living quarters and terminals. He found a few, checking them quickly. Locked. It seemed the ship had little more than a skeleton crew. He kept going, losing track of time in the pattern of hiding and running, opening doors and closing them, activating terminals and abandoning them. Finally, he opened one of the hatches and found himself in larger, more plush quarters. The t
erminal in the corner had a secondary terminal hooked into it, one that looked a lot less fancy but a lot more damage resistant, a worn and beaten mobile box. He hurried over to it, examining the wiring. It was primitive but functional. He moved to settle in ahead of it when he heard a noise to his right. He ducked beneath the terminal, looking back in the direction of the sound. It had come from a closed door, another room in the suite.
He wasn’t alone.
He decided he would find another terminal. He began to retreat from the room, making it a few meters before the door swung open. He dove back under the terminal, pressing himself into the back corner. He wished he still had his gun.
A pair of boots appeared a moment later, coming his way. He remained still while their owner sat down at the terminal, slumping back into the seat. Gant risked lowering his head slightly to get a better angle to see the soldier. He drew back when he recognized the one who had ordered Abbey’s death. He felt his anger building, tempted to jump the man right there. He forced himself to stay restrained. He couldn’t help Abbey that way, and maybe he could learn something useful.
“General Thraven,” the man said, activating the comm.
6
Ursan stared at his wife’s head, resting on the bed in the quarters he had claimed on board the Brimstone. He still wasn’t quite able to accept what he was seeing. He was still surprised at himself for what he had done.
What else was he supposed to do? He had seen the bitch who had cut off Trin’s head. She had the Gift, and she had impossibly outmaneuvered his wife with it. Who was she? What the frag was she doing on Drune? Was she the reason Trin had been there? He didn’t have any answers, only questions.
Only pain.
His soldiers had killed her. At least he hoped they had. They had shot her dozens of times, shredded her body to a near pulp. He hadn’t gotten to take her head, though. That Gant had shown up, berserking across the field, attacking with a fury he had never seen from the species. He knew the Gant were incredibly loyal to those they took as alphas, but he hadn't expected it to have a resistance to the Gift. That surprise had cost him his kill, and forced him to retreat or risk losing his entire platoon. The head was all he had left of her.
He reached down and stroked her blue hair. Her eyes were frozen in a look of surprise, her mouth slightly open, She had never expected the woman in the red softsuit to get the better of her. She hadn’t expected to be torn in half by a Gift-enhanced sword. A fragging sword of all things! Who carried a sword, anyway? Weapons like that had gone out of use thousands of years ago.
Trin was dead, and he wanted to know why.
He reached up and wiped his eyes, clearing the tears from them once more. He had refused to take off his helmet until he had made it back here. He refused to let his crew see him fall apart. He was, though. He was losing it. Had lost it. He had taken her head and carried it back here with him. They were probably whispering to one another about it even now.
He could feel the Gift within him, squirming through his body. He moved his hand from her head down to her neck, where a line of dried blood was resting. He stared at it, hesitant. What he had already done was insane. Would he turn himself into a monster as well? More of the Gift would make him stronger. Would it make him strong enough?
He scraped the blood off with his fingers, bringing it to his lips. He tasted it gingerly before slipping the fingers into his mouth, sucking the blood off and swallowing. He repeated the action a few more times, the tears streaming from his eyes again.
“I’ll find her,” he said to the head. “If she isn’t dead already, I’ll find her, and I’ll destroy her. I promise.”
He stood up, stepping back and looking at Trin’s face again. Was there any way to bring her back? He knew some of what the Gift could do. He knew how it could heal. Could it return her to him?
He made his way out of the bedroom, heading for the terminal there. He sat down, slumping in the chair, tired and angry and sad.
“General Thraven,” he said, opening a link. Then he leaned back further, wiping away the wetness on his face while he waited.
“Captain Gall,” Thraven said, responding a few minutes later.
“She’s dead,” Ursan said.
“I’m aware.”
“Who is she?”
“Who is who?”
“Don’t frag with me, General,” Ursan said. “The other one. She had the Gift. Who the hell was she?”
“Oh. You mean Lieutenant Cage. Lieutenant Abigail Cage of the Earth Republic.”
The Earth Republic? Ursan could feel the Gift burning within him. Hadn’t he lost enough to the damned Republic?
“Where did she come from?”
“Hell. She was supposed to be converted. She escaped. I sent Trin to find her.”
“You sent Trin to die, you son of a bitch.”
Thraven raised a hand, and suddenly Ursan was choking.
“Watch yourself, Captain,” Thraven hissed. “I allowed you to make an attempt to save her. Did you arrive too late? The failure is yours, not mine.”
He felt his throat clear. “She shouldn’t have been there,” he said, coughing. “Not alone. I told you we’re better as a team. This woman, Cage, wouldn’t have been able to stand up to both of us.”
“Your wife was the best assassin in the Outworlds, Captain. I had no reason to believe she would fail against a woman who had only been given the Gift days ago.”
Ursan put his head in his hands. “I know. I’m sorry, General. I’m not handling this well.”
“You’re only human, Captain.”
“The Gift,” Ursan said. “I know if we lose our heads, we can’t regenerate. But what if we have the head? Can we bring it back? Maybe attach it to a synth body or something?”
Thraven’s eyes narrowed, and he looked disgusted. “Did you take Trin’s head, Captain?”
“I might-”
“There’s nothing anyone can do. Your wife is decapitated. I’m afraid it’s fatal. The Gift isn’t magic. It can’t do the impossible, only things that seem impossible to those who don’t know any better.”
Ursan nodded. He had been hopeful. That didn’t mean he was going to throw Trin’s head out of an airlock. “What about Cage? Do you know if she’s still alive? I fired a torpedo at her ship, but it missed.”
Thraven’s whole face turned dark. “What?”
“It hit the Lahar,” Ursan said. “I don’t know how. We had a lock.”
“You hit the Lahar?”
“Destroyed it, I think. I’m sorry, General. I don’t understand it. We couldn’t hit that damn ship no matter what we did. All of our shots seemed to go around it.”
“I see,” Thraven said, his expression turning curious.
Ursan was surprised by that. He should have been furious for the loss of the battleship. He expected to find himself choking again.
He didn’t.
“You disobeyed my orders. You destroyed one of my ships. You should be thankful I don’t kill you where you stand.”
“I know,” Ursan said. “Please, General. If Cage is alive, I want to find her. I want to be the one to catch her and kill her.”
“Your wife couldn’t do it, but you believe you can?”
“I have a lot of motivation.”
Thraven smiled. “Return the Brimstone as you were ordered, Captain.”
“General-”
“Are you resisting me again, Ursan?” Thraven said. “Are you questioning my ability to lead this war again?”
“I want revenge.”
“I want the Brimstone. That is an order, Captain. Do not disobey me.”
Ursan scowled but nodded. “Yes, sir,” he said. “We’re on our way.”
Thraven cut the link, his projection vanishing.
“After Abigail Cage is dead,” Ursan said, getting to his feet. “Once I’ve had her blood, I’ll kill you too, you son of a bitch.”
7
“We’re almost to Feru,” Bastion said, glancing b
ack at Abbey as she entered the Imp’s cockpit. “I hope Fringe patrol doesn’t catch up with us too quickly.” He shook his head, still not happy about the idea of trying to rescue Captain Mann. “I hope we can avoid orbital patrols and Planetary Defense, too. The place has to be crawling with Republic assets after what happened here.”
“I told you what Ruby said,” Abbey replied. “Regardless of what you thought you wanted, and whatever you were willing to do to get it, if we don’t make an effort then we’re all dead.”
“That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“I haven’t liked anything since they sent me to Hell. I’m still here. I’m still fighting.”
“Better go strap in, Queenie. I have a feeling this is going to be a hell of a ride, and we don’t have Gant here to fix our shit if it decides to break.”
“You’ll get us down. I have faith in you.”
She tapped him on the shoulder and then headed to the rear of the shuttle. Pik, Benhil, and Airi were already strapped in, looking almost like a real team in their dark lightsuits. She was the one who stood out. Her softsuit and the HUD Gant had made her were both destroyed on Drune, and they didn’t currently have another that would fit her, which meant she was going in unenhanced. It wouldn’t be the first time she had made a drop without augmentation. She had done a job in a short dress and high heels once, a mission to get some data from some rich corporate asshole who turned out to be funding a mercenary unit for the Outworlds. The hellsuit was still a step up from that. She just wished she had more pockets, a tactile interface, and some Breaker gear.
Brute forcing her way into anything just wasn’t her style.
At least she had an ear communicator, though it was a pretty lousy setup compared to the TCUs the rest of the Rejects were wearing. It was enough to connect her to the network and send orders, but she would be relying on them to do most of the heavy lifting.
“Ruby,” she said, contacting the synth. “ETA?”