by Dan Krokos
“I’ve been busy with the coalition,” Merrin said. “But yes, we’ve met twice. I was all ready to be mad and yell at them for lying to me for my entire childhood, but they were so happy to see me, and I realized that none of it mattered. They are still my parents.” Merrin made a sound between a laugh and a sigh. “They’re actually scheduled to visit the palace next month, to meet Father and my brother. I’m … hoping it goes well.”
“It will,” Mason replied. “He’s different. You can see it in his eyes.” Mason wondered if it had less to do with removing his armor than it did with getting his daughter back.
“I think you’re right,” Merrin replied.
The six of them gathered at the top of the ship, where a hatch would open to outer space. Reckful was in the cockpit down below. When he spoke, his voice sounded inside the rhadjen’s heads, not through external speakers: “Everyone strap in. Put your helmets on and check the seal. We’re going to do a short light-speed jump directly above the Fangborn ship. After that, Mason is going to do his thing. If he can make a hole in the Fangborn hull, we all go inside and try to stop them. If we can’t, we go home, no exceptions. I’m going to cloak as soon as you’re clear, but you’ll be able to see me on your HUDs. Understood?”
Everyone replied, “Yes, sir!”
If we can’t get inside, there won’t be a home, Mason thought but didn’t say. He slid the helmet over his head and felt it seal to the neck of his suit. He threw his hood up over his helmet, as the heads-up display snapped on. This time, he understood the flashing symbols. The suit monitored vitals of every kind, something Mason found extremely useless. With a thought, he cast them away until there was nothing to clutter his vision. The link the helmet made to his brain was a feeble thing compared to the gloves. All around him, faceplates lit up as they sealed. Tom’s mask was bright red. Lore’s, violet. As was Merrin’s.
Mason strapped himself in as the ship took off. He felt heavier, then lighter, then normal, then heavier again as the ship rocketed up through the atmosphere.
Risperdel tried to put her hand over her mouth, but it bumped against her faceplate. “Oh, this isn’t fun.”
“Ever been in space before?” Merrin asked her.
“Hated it every time,” Risperdel said. “Or at least, I hate being inside a ship. Guess that’s not very Rhadgast of me.”
Tom and Lore were sitting across from Mason. Lore nodded at him: “Stark.”
“Yeah?”
“Whatever happens out there … you’re all right.”
“Isn’t this lovely?” Po said to Mason’s right. He was still messing with his straps. “We all make friends in time to be vaporized!”
Risperdel kicked Po across the aisle. “The power of positive thinking, Po. And next time, Lore, just say ‘good luck.’”
“Be ready!” Reckful said to them. “When the ceiling opens, you need to move. Fast. Remember your training. You are no longer rhadjen, but Rhadgast.” A chill went down Mason’s spine: Reckful’s words reminded him so much of Commander Lockwood’s, when he’d ordered the cadets to retake the Egypt.
The sounds faded until there was nothing but the beating of Mason’s heart and the slow and steady rasp of his breath. A warning on his HUD said they were now in a vacuum.
The Hawk was at light speed for no more than two seconds. Mason felt a building sensation throughout his entire body, followed by a release that left him woozy, his eyes unfocused, and his toes tingling. He much preferred the cross gates used by the ESC, but faster-than-light travel had its advantages.
All the restraints unlocked and retracted automatically.
“Now!” Reckful said. The doors in the ceiling zipped apart, and Mason saw they were inverted above the Fangborn ship. As one, he and his team pushed off and entered space.
Chapter Thirty-five
The Fangborn ship was the world now, stretching out to infinity in all directions. Mason couldn’t even tell where they were located on the ship, whether they were near the front or back. To the left and right, he saw the white light from the two tractor beams. They appeared like rising suns, one in the east, one in the west.
Mason looked over his shoulder, but the Hawk was already cloaked. Only a red outline painted on his HUD showed where the ship was. “I’m clear!” Reckful said. “Good luck!”
Through the com, Tom said, “Get it done, Mason.”
Mason hit the Fangborn ship first, touching down with his hands, then swinging his feet flat against the hull. The ship wasn’t moving, but he could feel how alive it was. He could feel whatever power was beneath his boots. His team spread out, covering all the angles, making sure no one was coming for them.
The gloves were eager now, sensing they’d soon be used. Mason put his palms to the surface of the Fangborn ship, which was smooth, a dark bronze streaked with black. He closed his eyes and poured energy through his palms and into the ship. The surface began to glow, spreading out in a circle. Lore backed away as the circle neared her feet. She used her belt to come off the surface as it passed under her.
After another moment, Mason took his hands away: there was no mark, nothing to say he’d done any damage. The circle of light under him faded to nothing. It was like the ship drank his energy and added to its own.
“Try again!” Merrin said. “If it doesn’t work, we’re outta here.”
So Mason did. Drops of sweat hit his faceplate. His hands were burning up. And still there was no mark.
“I’m sorry…” Mason said. Why isn’t it working?
“Reckful!” Po shouted. “We need an extraction.”
“Oh, no,” Tom said softly. Mason looked up. About one hundred meters away, Fangborn wearing massive spacesuits began crawling out of a hatch.
“Form up!” Po said. “Don’t turn your back on them!”
“There’s our entrance!” Lore said, pointing at the hatch. “If we can get around them.”
But they never had the chance. The Fangborn were fast on land, but out here they didn’t have to worry about things like gravity. Two of them launched off the ship, flying toward the team like missiles.
“SCATTER!” Mason screamed, as he leapt over a Fangborn that was barreling toward him, claws forward. The team split apart, flying in all directions, firing blasts of electricity when they could. Mason spun around in space as the Fangborn prepared to come at him again, but then he saw a sight that took his courage: small pod-shaped vessels were detaching from the hull of the Fangborn ship, rising up and zipping around, changing direction instantly with g-forces too incredible for the soft forms of human and Tremist to withstand. But for monsters like the Fangborn …
Mason watched as a pod zipped over to Tom, opened up at the bottom, and sucked him inside. Mason didn’t think, he simply flew after the pod, preparing to unleash a blast that would hopefully disable it.
But then the pod began to glow. One second it was there, the next it was gone, a trail of blurry light left behind in the direction of Nori-Blue.
Chapter Thirty-six
Mason didn’t cry out. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. People called his name so loudly his ears rang. Behind him, his teammates were scrambling into the Hawk. The pods were firing blobs of blue light at the king’s ship, but so far it was absorbing them. His team had a chance to escape.
Positioned high enough above the ship, Mason could see over the edge many miles away. He could see Earth, shrouded in gauzy white light, its new orbit guiding it along a path to destruction. He imagined Earth and Skars finally meeting, crashing together and ending all life on both planets.
Thousands of miles away, his HUD highlighted where the fleets were gathering. The ships were tiny black specs against the small yellow sun of Skars. Far enough away to avoid the Fangborn’s deadly weapons. They were afraid, Mason knew. With good reason. They were without hope, too. Also with good reason. Yet the fleets would still engage with the Fangborn ship, because there was nothing left to do.
And when the battle began, they
would surely die.
Mason didn’t have the strength to fight when Merrin bear-hugged him from behind and began to pull him back.
He didn’t have the strength to change until they reached the Hawk.
Mason caught the edge of the door with his fingertips and bobbed against their inertia. He shrugged free of Merrin and pushed her down into the compartment they’d come out of. The rest of his team was there. They were still yelling things, stuff like “WE NEED TO GO! MASON COME ON! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”
Reckful screamed: “SHIELDS AT TEN PERCENT, WE HAVE TO MOVE!”
Mason knew what he had to do now. He’d always known, but he was afraid, and now Tom was gone because of that fear. Gone, but not forever. Mason would get him back, but first he had a ship to deal with.
Tom is already gone! His best friend was gone. More meaningless words.
Mason let the gloves take over. He opened the dark parts of his brain, every part of his mind, and closed his eyes as the gloves filled those parts, like water filling a cup. A voice said in his mind: And now you will know the meaning of true power.
His eyelids snapped open. Had Mason been able to see his eyes, he would’ve known they were now solid black.
Merrin was coming for him again, prepared to pull him down into the Hawk’s compartment.
“Reckful,” Mason said. Everyone went silent. “Close the doors.” Mason pulled himself outside the ship …
… as the doors slammed shut. Voices filled his head, in his ears and in his helmet, but he muted them. Mason was a soldier, and he could do this. This was how he could live up to his legend—by actually being a legend.
Reckful was smart: the Hawk cloaked again, banking away and diving as it faded into the background stars. The pods were all around Mason, circling slowly like big cats. He called upon the shield again, forming a globe of pure electromagnetic energy around him. In the next moment, the globe expanded suddenly, then retracted. The pods were gone; all that remained were clouds of dust that sparkled in the sunlight. Mason flew high above the ship, miles high, then dived, circling down and around, moving impossibly fast, faster than the belt was capable of. But the gloves made the belt stronger, too.
The ship was enormous beyond comprehension, so Mason assumed any spot was as good as another. He was far enough away to see the entire thing at once. The fleets were moving in on Mason’s left. The Fangborn ship was dispatching more pods, which were racing to meet the fleets head-on. The battle was seconds away from commencing.
“Mason!” It was Susan. She’d broken through on a priority channel, overriding his mute. “Mason what are you doing? Come back!”
Mason ignored her because he didn’t know what to say. It was very possible his plan wouldn’t work and he would still not be able to defeat the ship, even though he was letting the gloves go as deep as they wanted to. It has to be enough, he thought.
“Mason please come home. Please—”
Mason overrode the channel and silenced it. He was all alone in space now, his body veiled with energy as black as night.
The fleets were coming on strong, spreading apart, ready to cover the Fangborn ship from all angles. It was now or never. With a final breath, Mason shot forward.
He forged the lightning shield into a spear that enveloped his body, the shield somehow untethering him from space, taking away the strains on his soft tissues. It didn’t feel like he was moving at all. But the readout on his HUD said he was traveling at just above twenty thousand miles per hour. The ship grew incredibly fast in his vision, until it became a solid wall of bronze. He blinked when he hit the Fangborn ship. When he opened his eyes, he was already out the other side. He spun around and saw the hole he’d created, easily a hundred yards across, venting atmosphere and debris. He saw the decks he’d cut through. But he didn’t stop. He flew up and around, coming down from the top. He kept his eyes open this time, watching the decks melt away in front of him. Time seemed to slow. He saw glimpses of Fangborn scattering in the hallways, only to be sucked along by his passing. He burst through the bottom of the ship, creating another massive hole that was still tiny compared to the size of the ship. Just paper cuts, really.
But paper cuts large enough to hurt.
Sparrows and Foxes, the small fighter ships of the Tremist and ESC, zoomed through the holes like bees into a hive. A warning on the HUD said Mason was being targeted by some of the ESC ships—they weren’t attacking him, but scanning. They had no idea what he was.
Mason didn’t stop. He flew out and around and pierced the Fangborn ship again. He struck the room containing the power source this time: it was a room many miles high and wide (in truth, the borders were too far to see). The room was completely empty save for a small pulsing black orb in the center, contained within a globe of shimmery blue light. He only got a glimpse of the room, but once he broke through on the other side, it began to destabilize. The walls rent apart around him, but not from his passing, he thought. He felt gravitational forces on his body that didn’t seem natural. The lightning shield protected him, but he was feeling the strain now. His limbs felt heavy, and his eyes throbbed with red pain.
Mason opened the top channel on his com: “ALL SHIPS BAIL OUT!” He was already outside the ship, many miles away. He spun around and saw the Fangborn ship in its entirety: it was a dying thing, venting gasses from dozens of holes, the small fighters zipping out of the exits as fast as they could. Suddenly a section of the ship snapped inward, as if an invisible fist twenty miles wide had punched it from the outside. Another segment concaved, sending more gases and great gouts of fire into space. Mason’s com channel was alive with cheering from both sides. The fleets were hightailing it out of there.
Mason didn’t have the strength to follow. So he had the best seat in the house when the Fangborn ship continued to crunch inward, getting smaller and smaller. Until it disappeared completely.
Chapter Thirty-seven
The white beams faded, and the planets returned to their normal appearances. If they were closer together, Mason couldn’t tell.
A voice broke through the chatter: “Mason?” It was Susan again.
“Here,” he said softly. He barely had the strength to speak. The gloves on his hands were throbbing with energy: they wanted more. Mason gathered his strength. You’ve had enough, he thought, and the gloves retreated, lessening the urge. Mason felt a small sense of relief at the fact that he was still in control. The gloves obeyed him, not the other way around.
But Mason didn’t realize the gloves had been giving him strength all along. Once they retreated, Mason closed his eyes and slipped into a sleep as dark as the space around him.
* * *
Mason awoke on the Hawk. Through a window, he saw the space between Earth and Skars, still many millions of miles away from each other. The halfway point was alive with both fleets surrounding the Will and the Olympus, which had moved back to their positions. Even the shipyard building the new planet gate was back in place.
His friends were in the room. They were all smiling. A few video screens on the wall showed the celebrations taking place on both planets. One showed a replay of Mason coring the ship like an apple. He moved across the screen like a shooting star, entering the ship from one side and exiting in the next second, destruction trailing behind him. So that’s what it looked like.
Po and Merrin were sitting on either side of his bed. “Nice job, buddy.” Po said. “I knew you had it in you.” His tone was casual, but he was staring at Mason with awe.
“Did you now?” Risperdel said. “I don’t think any of us saw that coming.”
“Tom,” Mason said. His tongue felt fat and parched in his mouth, a slab of rock. “Water.”
“Tom is…” Merrin started to say.
Mason knew where Tom was. You don’t leave a man behind. That was something you learned on day one in the ESC.
Mason wasn’t going to leave a man behind. And maybe he could find his father on Nori-Blue, if Erik Stark hadn’t peri
shed aboard the Fangborn ship. Mason couldn’t tell what would be worse: to have inadvertently killed his father, or to come face-to-face with him on the planet where all of this began.
“Um, Mason, about your gloves,” Po said. He was trying to give a reassuring smile, but Mason saw the concern in his eyes.
Mason looked at the gloves as Risperdel pressed a pouch of water into his hand. His robe was folded in a pile next to him. The material of the gloves had extended up past his elbows, over his shoulders, tendrils of it snaking out across his chest to connect with one another over his spacesuit. The gloves covered most of his torso now. He was terrified to see it—this isn’t right, this isn’t what I wanted—but the gloves felt … pleased. It was an odd feeling, one he didn’t fully understand.
Everyone was staring.
Mason unfolded his robe and slid it over his head, hiding most of the gloves from sight. “No time to worry about that right now. I’m fine, I promise.”
Merrin put her hand on his arm. “Mason…”
“Did anyone die?” Mason asked. He should’ve stopped his assault. Once the fighters were inside the ship, he should’ve left its final destruction to them. But he couldn’t fight the urge for one final pass, and rupturing the core had immediately changed the objective from destroy to escape.
“A few of the fighters didn’t make it out,” Lore said, her voice somber. “A team of Rhadgast were fighting Fangborn on the way to the power room. They perished.”
“Not his fault,” Risperdel said. “They would’ve died anyway when they reached the core.”
Mason felt feverish all of a sudden. “How—how many?”
“We don’t know yet,” Po said. He put his hand on Mason’s shoulder. “It’s over, Stark. Both our planets are saved. The newsfeeds are saying the orbits have stabilized.”