by Alex White
Nilah connected to the main drive to flush all its energy reserves in an uncontrolled burn. She hoped there was no one in the engine room, but there wasn’t time to worry about that now.
The ship jolted under her feet, and for a moment, she thought they’d been hit. Light bent and diffracted, smearing around her as the spells mixed and the ship teleported without the aid of a jump gate or drive. Nilah didn’t know where they were going or how far they’d get, but the spells interacting here were orders of magnitude larger than her little race car. She prayed it would carry them far away from Mother and her cruisers.
The deck pulled out from underneath her, and she flew backward, smashing into something soft. Alarms filled the air and automated systems chanted warnings about gravitational anomalies. Nilah heard a groan behind her and jumped as Orna slid to the floor, out cold.
“Oh god, I’m—” Sorry? Was she sorry? After all, this woman had been strangling her just a few moments prior, so maybe “sorry” wasn’t the right word. Of course, Nilah had threatened to kill everyone on the ship, so maybe Orna had been a little justified.
The ship rumbled under her feet, and Nilah wondered if she’d done some damage to the core in the teleportation attempt. When she’d teleported her car, they hadn’t even gone off Gantry Station. What if she’d moved the Capricious only a few hundred feet, or even a few kilometers? The ship would still be well within the sensor range of its hunters.
“What the hell was that?” shouted Cordell, his voice hollow in the speakers.
Nilah limped over to the console, her whole body beaten down by a difficult race, a horrid escape, and two strong zaps from some nasty spells. She renewed her glyph, and her palms stung as she placed them on the circuit and reconnected to the ship. She didn’t see Mother’s battlegroup on the external cameras, so she switched to the bridge intercom.
“We teleported,” she croaked.
“What?” barked Cordell. “That’s impossible! We don’t have a—”
“Jump drive,” said Nilah. “Yes, I know. It’s complicated. Where are we?”
She could tell from his stammering that he wasn’t often at a loss for words. “Uh, yeah. Okay. My navigator says we’re about five days away from the nearest jump gate, which is the old Goodall Colony.”
That was light-years away from Gantry Station. Nilah breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay then. I’ve … I’ve got someone wounded down here. Orna … I think her name is?”
“The doc is coming to you.”
Chapter Seven
Strategies
Two days ago, Boots hadn’t imagined herself dining at the captain’s table on board the Capricious. In fact, she would’ve done everything she could to stay away from the place. Now she sat before an opulent spread of fresh vegetables, succulent meats, creamy cheeses, and tender pasta. If she’d been at home, she’d have been scarfing down a cup of Insto before tucking into a nightcap. She cursed her aching head and sore bones as the bottle of wine landed in front of her, courtesy of Didier. At least she had something to look at with her meal.
The hours prior had been her strangest ones on board the ship, including her time served in the Famine War. The bizarre teleportation event had rocked the ship and sent Boots flying across the cargo bay, along with Ranger. Apparently it’d knocked Orna unconscious, because the robot shut down, leaving Boots free to walk herself to the bridge. Boots was just glad it’d happened after the Midnight Runner was magnetically secured, because she’d have been squished otherwise.
Didier distracted her as he leaned over her shoulder to pour her a glass. He smelled of salt and grease, but also of something distinctly herbal. Boots discreetly took a deep breath of him.
“Malik told me you turned down your pills,” said the cook.
“Wanted to drink,” she replied. “Besides, I ain’t hurt that badly.”
“You need rest, man.”
“I need food. Rest can come later.”
“I’ll pair you a wine for your pain, for now. Then it’s sweet dreams for dessert. Malik might seem nice, but let’s stay off his bad side.”
Boots pointed at a steaming tray of tender shoots with her fork. “What is all of this?”
Didier explained his meal choices, but she hadn’t heard of any of the dishes before. They definitely weren’t homeworld favorites, but then, Clarkesfall wasn’t known for having food at all. It all smelled and looked good, so she figured she ought to go ahead and dig in.
“How’s your quartermaster?” asked Boots before taking her first bite of a savory beet pancake.
“No broken bones, so she’s better off than she usually is.”
The door to the captain’s quarters slid open, and Cordell strode in, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt. It was a ratty throwback to his ADF days, but he wore it like it was brand-new. The sight of it awakened a few unpleasant memories, and Boots frowned, returning her attention to the meal.
“Thank you, Mister Thomasi,” said Cordell, seating himself at the table. “I think I can serve our guest well enough from here.”
“Just thought I’d walk her through the wine pairings, sir,” said Didier.
Cordell grinned and poured himself a glass of rich red. “They’re wasted on Miss Elsworth, Cookie. She may not look it, but she’s a hard-bitten soldier.”
Boots deliberately scraped her fork across the fine porcelain, provoking a wince from the gathered men, then resumed slicing into her entrée.
Didier stood up straight. “She looks like a lady to me, sir, and ladies deserve to be entertained.”
As the chef made his way from the captain’s quarters, Boots hazarded a glance at his backside. Not bad for a guy who had to be ten years older than her. Certainly not bad for the first guy to call her a lady in twenty years.
“Where’d you dig him up?” asked Boots, feigning away her blush.
“Thoen. He was a Kandamili chem smuggler.”
She laughed bitterly. “Captain Arca let a Kandi on his ship? You’re kidding.”
“The war is over. We may have fought over the planet, but we’re two sides of the same dead coin.”
“You’re the one with the Arcan icon hanging in the corner.”
Cordell grimaced. “What am I going to do with you, Boots?”
“Let me leave.”
“Not going to happen.” He helped himself to a few ribs from the spread. “But I’m tempted. Those cruisers that came after us were big and expensive … so that means you’ve got big, expensive enemies. It might be fun to see how far you got before you disappeared. But here’s the kicker: I bet we’d vanish right after, no matter what we did with you.”
She rubbed the bridge of her nose, willing away the aches and pains of the day. “Buddy, disappearing is going to be step one of my plan when I get out of here.”
“Looks like you tried to do that once already today.”
“It’s an officer’s duty to escape at every opportunity, right?”
Cordell tore off a piece of meat with his teeth and put down the bone before wiping his fingers. “Yeah, but you aren’t an officer. You’re not even a soldier.”
She narrowed her eyes. “That’s real fine talk coming from a deserter.”
“I was there when we lost. That’s what matters. You should’ve stayed with your ship.”
Boots looked around for effect. “And, uh, where are all the crew members who were on board when we deserted? I seem to remember you had a nice quorum. All in favor except me. They all stayed, right? Leon and Gary, Sera … Who else am I leaving out?”
She’d meant to stick the knife in with that one, but Cordell guffawed. “They’re rich, Boots, and retired. Sure, we got into some scrapes when we started smuggling, but nothing we couldn’t handle. Once they had their shares, they cashed out. I’m still going because it’s more fun than drying up on a beach somewhere.”
She took a sip of wine. “Oh. Sounds like they did a lot better than the crew at Laconte.”
“You really are a coward, you know that? Trying t
o rattle me with crew losses like you’re going to tell me something I’ve never thought before. You’ll do anything to stop us from talking about you.”
“I’m not like you, Cordell. I don’t have to make everything about me.”
“Fate gave you a second chance on that mountainside, and you wasted your life.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah. I should’ve been a smuggler. Ma would’ve been proud.”
The captain refilled his glass and held it to his nose, drawing in the scent. “Absolutely. You would’ve been dynamite. And it’s not too late. You could still come work for me.”
“I tried to steal your ship. That’s not the best start to a job interview.”
“I can make an exception, considering we go way back.” His smile vanished. “I tell you what, though: if you betray us again, I’m going to let Armin and Orna do whatever they want with you. Let me just say, a friend would shoot you sooner than hand you over to those two. We crystal on that?”
Boots looked into his eyes for a long time, searching for a bluff, but found none. “All right.”
“Attagirl.”
“What’s the plan then, jump over to the Harrow’s last known?”
“That depends on how accurate your intel is. You’re going to level with me now: how much of what you told me was a load of crap?” He held up his hand before she could speak. “And before you answer, I might take lies as a betrayal.”
Boots swallowed. “It’s all speculation. I don’t have any hard evidence at all.”
“So that lady didn’t burn down your office?”
“No, she did. I’ve got it on Silas’s authority. He’s a lot of things, but he isn’t a liar.”
“And you still think it’s the same woman trying to kill Nilah … and now us,” said Cordell.
“Yeah, I do. So, I guess that’s my evidence that the Harrow exists. You still got Kin plugged in?”
The assistant’s voice chimed in, “Maybe I can help?”
“Kin,” said Boots, “can you show me the image of the Harrow from Goulding Station?”
The holographic image of the Harrow, captured from the window of the space station, sprayed into the room. Its chitinous hull shone black in the lights of the station. Against the inky veil of stars, it was a mere suggestion of mass, save for the gargantuan brass rune disc underneath. A set of grapplers protruded, spiderlike, from its belly, to secure the disc in place and serve as actuators. The pink light of eidolon crystals rippled over the surface of the runes, a dire warning to any who might try to attack the ship.
It wasn’t difficult to imagine such a vessel destroying an entire country, but a spellship like that could be used for any number of purposes. It could’ve brought life to a dying Clarkesfall, and maybe averted the Famine War altogether.
Both diners rose to have a closer look at the glowing image.
“So this is my evidence,” said Boots. “This is the whole thing: a twenty-two-year-old picture.”
Cordell whistled. “This is a different picture than the one I’ve seen.”
“Well, yeah. I’m here to sell treasure maps. If I handed out everyday images from the Link, no one would ever buy them. I’ve got a reputation to maintain, you know.” She ran her hand through the hologram, disrupting the ship around her fingers. “I had to make an investment in my future, and that meant buying this bad boy.”
“Kinnard, can you show us a picture of the Harrow off the Link?”
“May I?” asked the computer.
Boots agreed, and another picture of the ship appeared, this time from a different angle. The ship was much farther off, and the image had the sort of framing that suggested it was taken by a station docking camera.
“Yeah. This is the one everyone knows,” said Boots.
“And where did you get your picture?” asked Cordell.
“The family of a miner. The guy died during an airlock transfer, and they hadn’t even bothered opening his ruck since then. Some weird Carré custom. Got his name from the Goulding personnel records, cross-referenced against active miners who’d been on board the station that day. There weren’t a ton of hits, so I blasted a message out to all the families, asking for any information they had on the Harrow.”
Cordell peered from one to the other. “There’s a difference here.”
“Yeah, genius. They’re two different pictures.”
He snatched up a cigarette from his desk and lit it, returning to have a better look at the ships. “I meant in the content of the image. Do you remember the protocol regarding image capture of ADF starships in transit?”
Boots shrugged.
“It’s strictly prohibited. Do you know why?”
Boots shrugged again.
“Did you pay any attention in flight school?”
“Listen, buddy, I’m a fighter pilot, not a photographer. And no, I didn’t get your fancy officer training, so I don’t know your answer. Just tell me what you know.”
Cordell held up his hands. “Testy, testy. I think it’s cute you’re still calling yourself a fighter pilot.”
“I literally just blew someone up in a space battle. I’m an ace now.”
“Oh yeah. Congratulations.”
“You going to tell me the difference or not?”
Cordell pointed to the energy signature across the rune disk. “This ship is about to make a jump. That’s the pink light you see.”
“Yeah. I see that every time I go through a jump gate. Big deal.”
“Jump gates connect two known points. This ship was going somewhere using its onboard jump drive, so theoretically it couldn’t be traced—but we can see the energy signature.”
“Which means …”
He licked his lips and took a long drag. “It means we can trace where it went, provided we have a real-deal datamancer—and Armin is the best there ever was. The Harrow is a beautiful ship. We could go after him if …” His shoulders fell. “If we weren’t all scraped up ourselves.”
Boots rubbed her aching elbow unconsciously. “Yeah. They put a few dents in us. Any idea how bad?”
“Extremely. Long-range comms are toast, the two-seventy engine only has a few more weeks in her and the ninety isn’t far behind. Our grav generator is currently held together by glue and happy thoughts. Orna’s tools are hovering somewhere outside of Gantry Station.”
The door chimed, and Cordell slouched to the table to sit down. “Come.”
The portal slid open to reveal Nilah on the other side, looking considerably better than Boots remembered. The lack of purple vomit flecks somewhat improved her appearance. She wore a fitted white top and pilot’s pants, which probably belonged to Aisha. She took a tentative step into the room.
“Nilah Brio,” said the captain. “We haven’t officially met, but my name is Cordell Lamarr. This is my ship.”
Nilah surveyed the food and grimaced. “Hi.”
“I talked to Doctor Jan,” said Cordell, stubbing out his cigarette. “He says you’re good to go, but you need to eat something.”
“We don’t eat animals on Taitu.”
Boots smirked and sat back down before helping herself to a heaping plate of flesh. “When you’re from Clarkesfall, you eat anything slow enough to catch.”
“I’m sorry about that,” said Cordell to Nilah. “I forgot. I’ll have Cookie whip up something more to your liking. I think there are a few things here already …”
The racer’s eyes wandered to the pictures of the Harrow. “What’s that?”
He took a sip of wine and cleared his throat. “Based on what Boots has told me, that image is the reason Cyril Clowe was killed.”
Nilah walked over to have a closer look. “How do you mean?”
“That’s the Harrow, a legendary Taitutian warship,” said Boots. “I sold that image, along with a set of bogus coordinates, to an investment group, and from what I can gather, Cyril was the money man.”
Nilah helped herself to a glass of wine and sat down, pushing back the tra
y of meat to keep the steam away. “I think you’re a liar.”
“I sold that picture, and a woman showed up, burned down my office, killed Cyril, tried to kill you, and chased us with a pair of warships. I think we can assume it’s the real deal.”
Cordell pursed his lips. “And we can guess she’ll come for my crew next. Boots says they were powerful enough to buy off the Fixers?”
“Yes,” said Nilah.
“What we need to do is—” Boots began.
Nilah cut her off. “Drop me off on Taitu and never talk to me again. I’ve got a race in five days; the team will already be there. I promise no harm or legal action will come to you if you do.”
Boots shook her head. “Are you serious right now? We’ve got a bunch of murderers after us and—”
“Of course I’m bloody serious! I’m going to be champion! I didn’t fight my whole life to get here, just so a couple of losers from the wrong side of space could ruin it all!” Nilah said, her voice a mix of anger and panic. “Do you know the sacrifices it takes to get this far?”
Boots narrowed her eyes. “You think … we’re trying to ruin your championship?”
“No,” said Nilah, “but you’re not equipped to handle this. On Taitu, I’ve got a security team, a legal team, and my father!”
“Okay, okay,” said Boots, trying not to openly laugh at her naïveté. “I think you can trust your dad—just not anyone who works for him, or the police, or the intelligence agencies, or anyone on your planet. Because you know what, kid? They bought off the Fixers and hit us with two fricking battle cruisers. And you seem to forget the bounty on your head.”
Nilah’s nostrils flared, but she didn’t immediately retort.
Cordell shot Boots a glance. “Anyway, we’re not going to get there in time.”
The racer’s lip stiffened. “I believe you misspoke. I’m going to get back to my team, and we’ll work out the bounty thing with my lawyers and—”
The captain leaned back and folded his fingers behind his head. “No, I didn’t. The ship is half wrecked. It’s not going to make the jump to Taitu. I’m not sure it’ll make the jump to the closest docks once we make the jump gate.”