Lonestar gave him a skeptical furrow. “I’ll try.”
“Good,” Tag said. He started to follow Alpha out the hatch. As he exited into the corridor, Lonestar called after him.
“Doc...er, Captain?”
Tag turned. “Yes?”
Lonestar was staring at Gorenado’s chamber as if she had finally noticed it. “What about him?”
Tag let a breath go before speaking again. “It’s a bit unclear, but we’re doing what we can.”
Alpha’s footsteps clanged out behind him as she followed him up the ladders to the captain’s conference room. He steeled himself mentally for his talk with Bracken. Once again, they planned to drop into normal space with uncertain prospects for finding free Mechanics. And once again, Tag wondered if they would find the Drone-Mechs there first—or if the hijacked Mechanics would come to ambush them as they had at Nycho. If they did, Tag wondered if he would even get a chance to save Gorenado.
Or the rest of the crew, for that matter.
Tag took his seat next to Sofia and Coren. Bracken’s holo fizzled into existence next to Alpha, and Bull seemed to be glaring at the ghost of someone or something that hadn’t yet appeared in the room.
“So,” Bracken began, “are we prepared for our next outing?”
Tag tried to swallow, but his throat was dry, scratchy. They had barely squeaked out of the last mess. With two marines out for the next mission and the Mechanics similarly disadvantaged, he wondered if there was any way he could realistically and unreservedly answer Bracken in the affirmative.
But now wasn’t the time for doubt or nihilistic thoughts. Not with so much at stake.
Tag clenched his jaw. “Absolutely.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Herandion Station floated before them like a mechanical jellyfish, the lines of hull plates and debris spreading from the central ring like tentacles. The station rotated on its central axis with a wounded tilt, but lights still shone and glimmered sporadically from portholes across the massive piece of engineering. Several Mechanic ships drifted nearby, detectable by the Argo’s lidar and radar. Magnified images revealed that each seemed to have been gutted like an animal after a successful hunt. The scene was eerily similar to Nycho.
“No sign of those slug assholes ready to jump my ship, are there?” Sofia asked. “I’m not interested in gunking up the exterior any more than it already is.”
“I’ve recalibrated our sensors to assess the presence of Dreg ships,” Alpha said. “There are none I can detect in the vicinity.”
“But that still won’t account for the ones that hide their ships in the husk of the station or other ships,” Coren added. His fingers hovered over the weapons terminals.
“Keep the T-drive spooled, and keep us a safe distance from the station,” Tag said. “Any other signals, distress or otherwise?”
“Nothing, Captain,” Alpha said.
Tag initiated a connection to the Stalwart. Bracken’s face appeared on his holoscreen. “We’re reporting no activity on Herandion. Doesn’t look much different than Nycho.”
“Attempts to hail the station or any vessels nearby have gone unanswered,” Bracken said. “All Mechanic frequencies have been met with the same result.”
Tag sighed. He hadn’t really expected to find any free Mechanics, but disappointment still filled him as if to dismantle the only shreds of optimism he had left. “You know the station better than me. Should we proceed with our intelligence-gathering objective?”
“It would be prudent,” Bracken said. “Even if there are no living free Mechanics aboard, I would like to tap into the computer system. Most systems appear to be shut off, but we might be able to pull data from them if we can gain physical access.”
“What’s the game plan? Go to the administration center and see what we can grab?”
“Yes, that would be the so-called game plan, though calling it a game trivializes the matter.”
“Sorry,” Tag said, waving a hand defensively. “Just an expression.”
Bracken’s face remained impassive. “We’ll prioritize our data, scouring for any intel on other species’ ships that may have passed through the sector recently on trade or other endeavors. Resuming contact with them may prove worthwhile. Maybe they will have information on the Drone-masters or at least what happened here.”
“It might also give us a sense of how the nanites are spreading,” Tag said. He hated to admit it as he did. “Or if other species are being similarly affected.”
“Yes,” Bracken said. “I also want to know if they’ve encountered any free Mechanics.”
“That, too.” Tag studied the holoscreen image of Herandion. “Seems like the docking ports are mostly shot to hell.”
“Maybe it’s best we board via spacewalk anyway,” Bracken said.
Tag nodded, understanding the implication. Docking their ships had left them defenseless against the Dreg before. They wouldn’t make that mistake again, especially when a station with more holes and craters bored into it than Luna made this place a perfect hiding spot for a score of small Dreg ships, regardless of what their sensors said.
A quick tap on the terminal, and Tag called up a line to the armory, where Bull and Sumo were waiting. Tag imagined himself down there with Coren. The boarding party had already been cut in half since Eta-Five. A heavy weight crept into the back of his throat. It took him a moment to comprehend the strange sensation before he decided it was something akin to dread. “Bull, prepare for a spacewalk. We’re not risking docking. Going to go EVA all the way.”
“You got it, Captain,” Bull said. He turned from the terminal connection before it even ended, already donning the components of his power armor.
Tag undid his restraints as Herandion loomed larger in the viewscreen. He stood at the hatch to the bridge, taking in the devastated structure, wondering how many tens of thousands of Mechanics had once called it home. How many had passed through here. How many other species Tag could only vaguely imagine docked at those ports, walked through those corridors, and went on their way, charting the unknown.
And now how many of them were dead—or puppets of the nanites?
Those thoughts weighed on his mind as he made for the hatch. “Coren, let’s do this. Sofia, you’ve got the bridge.”
“Aye, Skipper,” Sofia replied.
Coren strode toward Tag in that characteristic fluid gait Mechanics had with their hyperflexible limbs. As they exited together, Alpha abruptly stood from her station.
“Captain,” she said, “if I may make a suggestion, I believe that your current boarding team’s chance of surviving an assault like last time are drastically reduced given your smaller number. May I suit up to join the incursion?”
For a second, Tag wondered if her concern was truly genuine or if she simply longed to hold a rifle in her own hands against an enemy. He forced aside the image of her grinning manically as she peppered slugs into the Dreg or a Drone-Mech. She’s always been about protecting you, Tag reminded himself. He imagined her again, this time when she had thrown herself in harm’s way, grappling with an exo when they were defending the Montenegro. Back when she had saved Tag at the last moment aboard the Drone-Mech’s dreadnought.
“Sorry, Alpha,” Tag said. “Our probability of survival is even lower if we don’t have you and Sofia here to take care of the ship. Besides, Bracken’s promised to double the number of Mechanics for this one.”
Alpha stared at him expectantly, as if she wasn’t satisfied. He nodded a good-bye before leaving. As he did, he felt the burn of her eyes on the back of his neck. He hoped she was wrong. That they wouldn’t run into any surprises here. That their probability of survival wasn’t diminished.
But hope had led him astray far too many times. When he reached the armory and squeezed into his EVA suit, beside his normal armament of a Gauss rifle and a pulse pistol, he secured a rocket launcher to his back. If hope didn’t pan out, he had seen what the rocket launchers could do.
&
nbsp; Bull raised a single eyebrow in a look of skepticism. “Captain?”
“I’d advise that all of you grab one, too.”
Tag led Coren, Sumo, and Bull to the docking port. They waited outside the first airlock as the Argo slipped near the Herandion’s docking port. Metallic groans and pops sounded over the deck as the altitude impellers activated, slowing the ship. The images on the docking port’s viewscreen displayed the ruined airlocks that ships had once attached to. One particularly cavernous hole stood out. It appeared large enough to fit a Dreg ship or two, and he shuddered. The rocket launcher jostled on his back, gently reminding him that at least they were better prepared this time. But it wasn’t just the Dreg that worried him. This might be another Drone-Mech trap. Or there might be some other gods-forsaken species lurking about this corpse of a Mechanic space station.
“We’re as close as I’m going to get,” Sofia said.
“Good,” Tag said. He hit the airlock, and the first hatch opened, letting the group in. “Sofia, when we’re in hyperspace again, remind me that I want a full briefing on every known species the Mechanics have data on. Everything you learned about from your time on Eta-Five with the Mechanics.”
“Am I not a good enough source?” Coren said, hidden behind his orange visor as the hatch closed. The hiss and huff of air sounded as the airlock was depressurized.
“I just want, you know, a human perspective on what Sofia’s learned,” Tag said. “Thought it might be helpful, but, yeah, you’d be a great source, too.”
“What he’s saying is you Mechanics think you’re so damn superior to everyone else that you might fail to mention just how dangerous these other aliens are to humans,” Sofia said over the comms.
Coren let out a curt laugh. “Oh, I’m well aware of human weaknesses, both technological and otherwise.”
Bull stared him down. “You want to back that up in the gym?”
“I wouldn’t,” Tag said to him, the memories of his own sparring match with Coren still fresh enough to cause the bruises and welts to sting. “Best to save your energy for whatever’s waiting for us on that station.”
Tag felt the ship lose hold on him as the gravity generators ceased their function within the airlock. He used handholds to pull himself toward a terminal near the exterior hatch. With a few taps, he lined up an aiming reticule with Herandion’s docking bay then fired a tether into it. He saw the anchor point clunk into the station, kicking up a cloud of debris. But under vacuum, he only imagined a sound as it dug into the metal and refuse.
“Follow the line down,” Tag said. “Try not to use your thrusters. I want to save all our juice just in case.”
“Just in case we run into some slimy bastard down there and need to shoot back up here?” Sumo asked.
“More or less.”
The exterior hatch to the docking bay inched open. Bull took the lead and clipped himself to the tether first. He pushed off from the edge of the docking port and began drifting toward the station, the tether guiding him. With one hand, he corrected his path using the tether, and with his other, he held his rifle, never letting it stray from the blackness of Herandion. Coren went next, followed by Tag. Sumo took the rear.
“Still no signs of life?” Tag asked. From his periphery, he could see the Stalwart in parallel with the Argo. Mechanics exited the ship and drifted toward the nearest docking bay. Their black armor gleamed crimson under the malicious red glow of the Stalwart’s battle lights. They looked like demonic apparitions descending on unwary prey, and Tag felt a glimmer of appreciation knowing they were on his side.
“Nothing, Captain,” Alpha said.
“Not on the station or anywhere nearby,” Sofia clarified.
“Good,” Tag said. The first few Mechanics made it into the station and disappeared in the shadows. “Sharick, you got eyes in there?”
The Mechanic boarding party leader called back. “So far, everything’s quiet.”
Tag slid into the station, unclipped himself, and crouched beside Bull, almost wishing it weren’t so quiet and dark. If they had an enemy lying in wait, unseen, and ready to rip out their throats, it would be a hell of a lot nicer to see their face and kill it without all the suspense.
Sharick’s group of Mechanics joined up with Tag’s forces. The Mechanics had doubled their boarding party this time, and Sharick paused when they stood next to Tag’s group. The Argo’s measly four-member squad seemed even more anemic when Tag saw the two dozen Mechanics flowing through the corridor.
“Straight to the administration core,” Sharick said. It sounded halfway between a question and a statement.
“Straight to the administration core,” Tag agreed.
He let his squad be enveloped by the Mechanics as they pulled themselves through the station at zero-g. At least at Nycho, the grav generators and centripetal force had been enough to make their jobs slightly easier. Herandion was holding nothing back in creating obstacle after obstacle for them. The passages were no different. A hatch lay closed, immobile by force or electric means. One of the Mechanics activated his wrist-mounted weapons, and a plasma cutter glared in the dark passage like a miniature sun. It tore into the alloy hatch with the ease of a pulse round burning through flesh. Mechanics and marines bristled with weapons as they waited for him to clear the route for them. Tag could practically taste the tension in the air, dripping with a mixture of anxiety and excitement, fingers hovering near trigger guards, eyes glued on what lay ahead.
But as they worked to clear their passage, the enemy didn’t come from ahead after all.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Sofia and Bracken’s voices filled the comms at once in a garbled rush of words. The only thing Tag could plainly hear through the mess was the panic evident in even Bracken’s voice. He had to chin down the volume on the open channel.
“Say again, Sofia,” Tag said.
“Drone-Mechs just jumped in,” she said. “We’ve got four contacts. Not as many as before, but they’re definitely Drone-Mechs.”
“You’re sure they’re not free Mechanics?” Tag asked.
“Bracken’s sure, and I’m going to take her word on this one.”
Tag switched to Bracken’s channel. She was already giving orders to her troops to return to the ship. “Bracken, what happened?”
“The usual Drone-Mech inquiry into where our loyalties lie, Brewer,” she replied. “They just opened fire. Fourteen minutes until the first salvo hits.”
“Only four ships, though,” Tag said, reaching for a loose air duct. He used it to propel himself back down the corridor toward the docking bay. The Mechanics and his crew were shooting up around him like fish swimming for their spawning pools. He thought to use his thrusters, but if everyone tried to do that in these confined spaces, it might turn their escape into one deadly game of pachinko. “At Nycho, there were at least three times that many.”
“Yes,” Bracken said. “And from our impeller drive analysis, these ships are different from the others.”
Tag curled his arm in to avoid a Mechanic shooting for a nearby tangle of wires. He bit back the knot of worry threatening to close his throat. They still had more than ten minutes. This would be no problem to escape. The exit appeared at the end of the passage with the threadlike tether silhouetted against the bejeweled void of space, slightly illuminated by the battle lights from the Argo. Sumo led the group to the ship, following the tether up first. Tag ushered Coren up second. Then he clipped himself to the tether and pushed off from the station. The rocket launcher slapped against his back as he crossed the abyss.
Eight minutes to go. A stream of brilliant blue fire traced from the Stalwart, followed by a salvo of small rockets. They disappeared into the black, targeting the warheads. He squinted, trying to make out which of the pinpricks of lights was the incoming ordnance. Then he felt something loom over him like the shadow of a giant blotting out the sun. There were no shockwaves in space, no sounds traveling through the vacuum. But all the same, something
tingled at the back of his neck. He twisted back toward the space station, still floating toward the Argo. Bull must have gotten a similar feeling, because he faced the same direction Tag did.
Something shot up from one of the holes in the station. It was a spaceship. No doubt about that. But its shape was that of a swan—an oversized swan a quarter of the size of the Argo. Some kind of sapphire-colored alloy made up its hull, and the entire thing seemed fluidlike. Two tubular protrusions aimed at Tag, then Bull, before finally focusing on Coren.
“Oh shit!” Tag said. “Sofia, Bracken, what is that thing?”
Coren appeared frozen as the tubes glowed brighter, bathing him in orange light. “I don’t know...but I can’t...I can’t move!”
“I’m trying to hail it!” Sofia said. “Something’s wrong with our computers. We’ve got interference.”
“I am unable to establish a connection,” Bracken said. “The vessel is of unknown origin. It matches nothing in our databases...and it’s doing something to our computers, too.”
Dread filled Tag like a fast-acting poison. He had nightmares of when the Drone-Mechs had implanted a virus within the Argo’s comp systems. The virus had disabled all the ship’s AI systems and had stranded him on Eta-Five. With the Drone-Mechs bearing down on them now, they couldn’t afford the loss of their AI systems.
“Help,” Coren managed. “I feel like...I’m...I’m boiling from the inside.”
The ship started to float closer to Coren. The sapphire alloy swirled like a whirlpool, and a hole opened in the side of it. Coren’s body began drifting toward the open maw of the vessel. His clip pulled on the tether between the Argo and Herandion, and the tether went taut. Sumo had already made it up to the hatch, and she reached desperately for the line as if she could fight against the sapphire ship’s pull. Then the line snapped. Tag and Bull spilled into space, tumbling end over end. Tag tried to straighten himself out, operating the thrusters on his suit. He managed to stabilize himself enough to see Coren shaking as if every muscle in his body was fighting the pull of the sapphire ship. The Mechanic’s thrusters streaked on, plumes trailing behind them uselessly. They did nothing to interrupt the invisible grip the ship had on him.
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