by Jay Allan
“Don’t blame Lucas. I forced him back at gunpoint.”
Blackhawk stared back at Lucas, a puzzled look on his face. “At gunpoint?”
Lucas nodded. “I’m afraid so, Skipper.” He glanced over at Astra. “She’s quite a handful.”
Blackhawk nodded. “She certainly is.”
“I told you I wasn’t staying behind the next time there was a fight, Arkarin Blackhawk. Maybe next time you’ll listen to me, you pompous ass. We saved your life, so just say thank you and shut the hell up.”
He stared back, astonished, but before he could answer she grabbed his shirt and pulled him to her, kissing him with enough heat to consume even his anger.
“Bring those crates over here, boys.” Blackhawk stood just behind the Claw’s cargo hatch, shouting to the Twins. He’d sent the brothers to get the crates of weapons they’d taken from the imperial ship. There hadn’t been much time, and his people had only taken four of the big boxes. Now he was having three of them unloaded. “Set them down here.” He pointed to a spot near the château.
It was dawn, and the early light was coming up across the fields. The battlefield was a vision of hell itself, a scorched plain covered with the dead and the charred remains of those consumed by the fires. A hazy cloud of smoke drifted across the gruesome scene, and in a few places, the remnants of buildings still smoldered.
“I want to thank you again, Ark.” Carano walked up behind Blackhawk. Emotions were warring on his face, and Blackhawk could guess what was going through Carano’s mind. He’d gone from a sworn enemy, torturing a captive Blackhawk for information, to a timid follower, to a soldier leaping to carry out the commands of the great war leader. Blackhawk too felt conflicted—it’s hard to forget a man who whipped you for hours. But at this moment, it occurred to him perhaps he was just speaking to a friend.
Maybe not that—not yet. But you share a foxhole with a man, and you certainly can’t call him an adversary anymore. Maybe someday . . .
“Let’s call it even,” Blackhawk said with a smile on his face. “We survived the night, and we gave the revolutionaries something to think about before they come back and try to attack here again. Your forces should have time to regroup and get back in the fight.” He stared at the pensive mercenary. “That’s enough to make up for a shoulder wound, wouldn’t you say? Even with ten years’ interest accrued.”
“More than enough. My anger and thirst for revenge nearly cost me far too much.” He extended his arm.
Blackhawk grasped the mercenary’s hand firmly. “Just to make sure we’re even . . .” He gestured over to where the Twins were stacking the large crates. “We grabbed a few of these when we stole the core from the imperial ship, but one is all we really can use. I figured you need the rest more than I do.”
Carano stared back, a stunned expression on his face. “But, Ark, even those few cases are priceless. I can’t pay you anything close to what they’re worth, not while I’m stuck here at least.”
“They’re a gift. Put them to good use, and maybe someday our paths will cross again.” He smiled. “If they do, I’ll have a friend next time instead of an enemy.”
“You will indeed.” Carano returned the smile. “And thank you again. The weapons will be enormously useful to us.”
“I will ask one thing of you in return, General.” Blackhawk paused. “Use the weapons to defeat the extremists, but then broker a peace between the remaining rebels and the nobles. This war is pointless. Neither side can function without the other, so some sort of settlement should be possible.” Blackhawk was uncomfortable siding with the nobles to begin with, but he had no choice. The empire was backing the other side, and that meant their victory would be a worse calamity than anything Elisabetta’s people might do. He hoped the two sides would find a way to coexist, but he’d back the devil himself to thwart whatever imperial scheme was afoot.
“I will do that, Arkarin Blackhawk. You have my word.” Carano paused and took a deep breath. Then he added, “Besides—I need this war to end or the guilds will never drop their embargo. And I don’t relish the thought of spending the rest of my life here.”
“If I had any influence with the guilds, I’d try to help you arrange transport off this shithole, but I’m afraid my word wouldn’t carry much weight there.” He paused and forced back a grin. “In fact, if you do manage to contact them, I wouldn’t mention my name.” Blackhawk left it at that. It was a long story, best told another time.
“I’ll make sure not to. Good-bye, Arkarin Blackhawk. Fortune go with you.”
“And you, Vladimir.”
Blackhawk turned and walked toward the château. Elisabetta was standing there, staring out over the fields, a thoughtful look on her face.
“Lady Lementov.” He walked up and took her hand, kissing it gently. “I’m sorry we didn’t have a chance to explore the friendship you spoke of in such intriguing terms.”
She smiled. “You are indeed a gentleman, Captain Blackhawk, and a man of many talents. I will regret not having the chance to learn more of your . . . ah . . . skills.” She glanced over toward Wolf’s Claw, and Blackhawk followed her gaze. Astra was standing near the airlock, pretending she wasn’t watching the exchange, but not doing a very good job of it. “But I see now why my charms failed so utterly. She is beautiful, Captain, and I suspect there is far more there than just a pretty face.”
Blackhawk nodded. “There is much more, Lady Lementov, but Astra and I are only friends.”
Elisabetta smiled. “Of course, Captain. Whatever you say.” She stepped back and bowed her head, the native farewell for an honored guest. “My thanks again, Captain Blackhawk, for saving my life and those of my retainers. My best wishes, wherever your travels take you.”
“Farewell, Lady Lementov.” He smiled again and turned, walking back to the Claw. It was time to get the hell off Saragossa.
CHAPTER 29
“I’M PICKING UP A CONTACT IN ORBIT, SKIPPER.” LUCAS WAS staring into his scope, the Claw tearing through Saragossa’s heavy atmosphere.
Blackhawk’s head snapped around. He felt his stomach clench. A ship in Saragossa orbit had to be bad news. “Any specifics yet?”
“Not yet, Skip.”
Blackhawk flipped on the intraship comm. “We’ve got an unidentified ship in Saragossa orbit. Let’s not take any chances. Ace, Shira—let’s get the turrets ready just in case.” He paused. “Sarge, get your boys and the Twins ready for damage control.”
He turned back toward Lucas. “Anything yet?”
“Wild guess, Skip, but she looks like one of the pirates from Kalishar.” His face was pressed against the scope. “Similar mass and energy readings. If I had to guess, I’d say it followed us here.”
Blackhawk’s face twisted into a frown. If a ship from Kalishar had come after them, it wouldn’t be alone. “Ace, Shira, you guys in place yet?”
“Just climbing in now, Cap.” He could hear the sound of the hatch slamming shut through Ace’s comm. “All set.”
“I’m ready, Captain.” Shira’s voice was clear and calm, as usual. “Precombat diagnostics in progress.”
Blackhawk gave himself a brief smile. The rivalry between Ace and Shira was always amusing, and it was usually a positive force that drove each of them to better performance. Shira won the honors this time, at least so far. She was already in place and checking her equipment while Ace was just climbing into his turret. No matter which of them managed to edge the other out, though, Blackhawk knew he had two of the best gunners in space ready for whatever fight they were up against.
“All right, guys. As soon as we get a positive ID, I want to blast that ship to dust. If there’s one, there’ll be more too, and we need to pick off whatever we can before they can gang up on us.”
He glanced over toward Lucas. “Positive ID yet?”
“Not yet, Sk— Wait. I’m picking up transmissions. Skip, they’re powering up their systems!”
Close enough, Blackhawk thought. “Ark,
Shira . . . fire!”
Lucas was staring into the scope. “Two hits, Skip One was a grazing shot, but the other a solid hit amidships. Looks like significant damage. I’m reading gas and fluids escaping from the hull.” His tone deflated a bit. “No secondary explosions.”
“Good shooting, guys. Keep it up.” Blackhawk was about to ask Lucas for another update when he heard someone climbing up the ladder. He spun his head around to see. “Astra, what are you . . .”
“I’m going to man Ace’s station while he’s in the turret, Ark.” She glanced over at Lucas and gave him a wink. “Lucas and I make a good team on this bridge. Besides, I can man the scope, so he can concentrate on flying this tub.”
Blackhawk sighed, but he didn’t argue. She was right. Lucas might have some fancy flying to do if they were going to get out of this mess. “Fine, but make sure you’re strapped in.”
“Wooo! That’s the way we do it, baby!” Ace’s voice reverberated on the shipwide comm. His shot had been perfect, a point-blank hit on the reactor. The enemy ship lost containment, and an instant later it disappeared in a massive fusion explosion.
“Nice shooting, Ace.” It was Shira. Rivalry or no, Blackhawk knew she appreciated excellence, and she showed it.
“Ark, I’ve got multiple inbound targets,” Astra said. “Three—no four ships coming in from 315/160. Possible additional contacts at 280/140.”
Here we go. “It’s probably the whole damned Kalishari fleet.” He flipped on the comm. “Sam, how long to power up the core?”
“At least twenty minutes, Captain. This thing is way beyond our wiring and infrastructure. I can’t even believe I’ve got it working, but if I let it draw power too quickly, I’ll burn out every system on the ship. Figured you’d want a little something for the guns.”
“You figured right, Sam. Do the best you can.” He turned to Lucas. “Looks like we’re going to have to fight. Let’s head for the asteroid belt, Lucas.”
“Just what I was thinking, Skip.” The pilot punched at his keyboard. “Everybody get ready for acceleration.” He pulled the throttle, feeding more reaction mass into the engines. He flipped the force dampeners on full power, but it still felt like close to 3g in the Claw.
“Estimated entry into asteroid belt: eight minutes,” Astra called from her station. “Projected interception by enemy forces nine point five minutes. That’s cutting it pretty close.”
“That’s what we do here, Astra,” Blackhawk said. Lucas was pushing the throttle forward, feeding even more reaction mass to the engines, going past 100 percent capacity to 105 percent then 110 percent. It was dangerous, but then they had Sam Sparks down there holding things together, and he’d never seen the day she couldn’t coax a 10 percent overload out of her engines.
“Because that’s what we do,” he muttered.
“We’re getting energy readings, General.” The officer turned toward Wilhelm. “It appears some kind of battle is in progress.”
Wilhelm felt a rush of excitement. Saragossa was redlined. If there were ships fighting here, maybe Tarn Belgaren’s people had found Wolf’s Claw after all. He’d come to investigate what had happened to Agent Sand, but if the ka’al’s fleet managed to capture Wolf’s Claw, he could take Astra right back to Galvanus Prime. The fate of Saragossa was insignificant compared to securing the Lucerne girl.
“Full thrust.” He turned to face the pilot. “Get us into that combat zone now.” He strapped himself into his chair.
“Yes, sir.” The officer was hunched over his station, punching in course codes. “It appears the fighting is in the system’s asteroid belt, General.”
Of course it is—I wouldn’t expect anything less from Blackhawk. “I want all weapons systems activated.” It has to be Wolf’s Claw, he thought. Wilhelm could feel his heart pounding in his ears. Who else would be fighting off a dozen ships in Saragossa’s embargoed system? “And advise all gunners, I want that ship disabled, not destroyed. I will personally space anyone who destroys that vessel.”
“Plot another pass!” Admiral Kharn was sitting on Red Viper’s bridge, screaming into his fleetwide comm. “We are the scourge of half the Far Stars, and we cannot score a crippling hit on a single ship!”
“Admiral, I have never seen a vessel piloted like that one. Whoever is at the controls is like a sorcerer. He seems to read our very thoughts, and he maneuvers around these asteroids like nothing I have ever seen.” The pilot was sweating, working at his controls, trying to bring the ship around for another attack run.
“Perhaps I should make him an offer, Grindle.” He glared at his pilot. “But that would make you expendable, wouldn’t it?”
The pilot didn’t respond. He’d served Kharn for years, and the admiral knew he was an excellent pilot. But whoever was behind the controls of Wolf’s Claw had him completely outclassed.
They had scored half a dozen hits on the enemy ship, but most of those were grazing shots. Still, even a great beast could be brought down by enough small wounds. Grindle gripped the throttle and pushed it forward, driving Red Viper’s straining engines harder as he vectored toward the fleeing Claw.
“Talon reports a hit, Admiral.” Jacen Nimbus turned toward Kharn. “It appears they have damaged or destroyed one of the target’s engines.”
Kharn slammed his fist down on the arm of his chair. “Now that’s what we need.” He looked straight ahead, his eyes focused on the viewscreen. If they could destroy the Claw’s engines, they could take the ship and recapture Astra Lucerne. “They’re damaged, Grindle, crippled. That should slow down their hotshot pilot. Now, get us in firing position.”
“Nice shooting, Shira.” Blackhawk was watching his screen when the enemy ship just vanished. That was three kills now, plus the one in orbit. But at least ten other ships were hunting the Claw, and that last dead pirate had managed to score a hit before Shira took him out. The Claw’s engines were down to 60 percent, even with Sam’s best efforts at damage control. She was a wizard with ship’s systems, but even she couldn’t do anything about metal parts that were melted and fused together—or blown completely off. Not in the middle of a fight, at least.
“How is the core, Sam?” They needed to get the hell out as soon as possible—sooner if possible. They were schooling these pirates in ship-to-ship combat, but ship-to-ships was a different story. Eventually the pirates would get enough ships on them at once. And that would be the end.
“Four minutes, Captain.” He could hear the stress in her voice. She was powering up the core, working damage control, and trying to keep the battered engines online. For the millionth time, Blackhawk was thankful he’d found Sam and added her to his team. She’d saved their lives more times than he could count, and she’d kept a battered Claw functioning when Blackhawk knew he had no right to expect more from his ship.
I know I ask a lot of you, but I need that magic one more time, Sam.
“We’ve got three ships coming in on an attack run.” Astra had six screens going, monitoring projected plots and vectors for the enemy ships. “Sending targeting data to the turrets.”
Blackhawk was pleasantly surprised how well Astra blended in and worked seamlessly with the crew. He knew she was more than capable—he’d observed her erratic brilliance on numerous occasions—but this was her first firefight, and she didn’t skip a beat.
Still, even as he focused on the battle, he couldn’t help but feel a touch of sadness. He would love nothing more than to have her at his side, on the Claw and in his life. But she had a far greater destiny than wandering the Far Stars with a pack of moderately disrespectable adventurers, and even if he hadn’t had his other concerns, he would never allow her to leave that behind to be with him. You shouldn’t have to be great at space combat. You deserve so much more . . .
“Another kill!” A rush of excitement flared in Astra’s otherwise businesslike tone. “Ace this time.”
The ship shook hard and pitched to the starboard. Blackhawk’s mind snapped back to the batt
le, and he scolded himself for being distracted with nonsense when his people were fighting for their lives. He could smell the burnt machinery, and he knew immediately the news wasn’t going to be good. “Damage report.”
“It’s bad, Captain.” Sam’s voice was harried. He could hear her spraying fire retardant in the background as she spoke. “We’re below 50 percent power on the engines for sure, and maybe worse. Probably worse . . . definitely worse. We’ve got power losses all over the ship, including the lower turret.” Meaning Ace is out of the fight. “But the reactor’s still online, and the core seems functional.” She coughed. “I’ve got smoke down here, but it’s clearing. The ventilation systems are still working, at least partially.” She paused. “One more hit, Cap, and we’re not going anywhere. I’m showing two minutes, ten seconds left on the hyperdrive sequence, but we’re going to have to risk an early jump. I’ll overload the reactor and hit the jump system with a power spike. It’s risky, but I think I can make it work.”
That was enough for Blackhawk. “Do it, Sam.” He slapped his hand on the comm button. “All crew, prepare for immediate jump to hyperspace.” He turned toward the pilot’s station. “It’s you and Sam now, Lucas. Get us the hell out of here.”
“We are reading a power spike from the enemy ship, General.” The officer turned and stared at Wilhelm. “They’re jumping.”
Fuck! “Get a tracer on them. Now!” We can’t lose that ship, he thought. If they slip away, we’ll never find them again. He stared at the tactical plot. The pirates had lost heavily in the battle, but they’d inflicted serious damage on Wolf’s Claw too. The combat was almost over, victory at hand.
Unless Blackhawk and his people managed to escape into hyperspace.
“Got the trace, sir.”
“Send a transmission to all Kalishari vessels. They are to hook into our data net and prepare to jump. We’re going after that ship, wherever it goes.”
CHAPTER 30
“ENTERING NORMAL SPACE NOW.” BLACKHAWK COULD TELL THAT Lucas had ignored the hyperspace plot, managing the last few seconds before reemergence by his gut. Anyone else, and that would have scared the crap out of the captain. But he’d seen Lucas do it before—too many times—and trusted his pilot. They had caught the signal of a tracer right before they jumped, and he knew the pirates were right on their tail. If Lucas needed to get creative to shake them, Blackhawk was all for it.