by Tony Peak
“They’re still alive!” Kivita yelled.
“Please, Kivita,” Navon said over the speaker. “Help these others. We are being followed now.”
Far above, the light beams still scanned the shaft’s walls. Shapes moved in the entrance to Level Four.
“You fucking bastards,” she whispered, then walked up the wall toward the others, where faint light emanated from Level Eight’s entrance. Inside her envirosuit, the pouch containing the Juxj Star weighed her down. She’d thought her knowledge had illuminated the darkness of her life, and would have brightened the ignorance blanketing the Cetturo Arm.
Now it seemed to envelope her as it swallowed those she cared about.
32
Sar maneuvered the shuttle closer to Airlock Seven. One deck below, Frevyx was docked to Airlock Eight. He gripped the manuals tighter while examining the damage to Luccan’s Wish. The ship had tilted twice more toward the gas giant since he’d escaped Dunaar. Outside the shuttle’s starboard viewport, the Aldaakian cruiser waited. It didn’t fire on him, though three assault shuttles maintained a tight flight perimeter near the decks above.
“Bet they’ve sent Shock Troopers aboard.” Sar flew parallel to Airlock Seven and initiated the shuttle’s magnetizing array. With a shudder and a clank, both vessels linked airlocks; then Sar yanked off his restraints and rose from the cockpit. The scanner beeped twice. Sar studied it and cursed under his breath.
Fanged Pauper had docked on the starboard side of Luccan’s Wish, while the Inheritor shuttles drew closer to Airlock Three.
He needed more time, not more enemies.
“The Rector will find Kivita. Hmm.” Bredine followed him, face drawn in concentration. Since leaving Arcuri’s Glory, she’d been quiet.
“Dunaar wouldn’t still be in the system unless Kiv was trapped on board.” Sar slipped into an envirosuit and snapped on a helmet with a dirty faceplate. “You’re free, Bredine. You want this shuttle, it’s yours. Once I have Kiv and my friends, I’m leaving on Frevyx.” The words held more confidence than he felt. It would be madness inside the disabled ship.
After suiting up, Bredine stared at him with a strange clarity. “I want to see the queen. Hmm. Redryll? Kivita sends.”
“Whatever. Just stay behind me.” He snatched a spike baton from a small weapons locker; it held no swords or pistols. Once the shuttle airlock opened, momentary weightlessness gave way to normal gravity as they entered Airlock Seven. Red warning lights flashed inside, where supply crates, toolboxes, and gas canisters lay overturned. An intercom buzzed with static, which meant the bay hadn’t decompressed yet.
It’d been more than fourteen years since he’d boarded Luccan’s Wish. The only family he’d had since Caitrynn’s death needed him more than ever.
“Kivita sends,” Bredine said over his helmet speaker.
“What? Don’t distract me unless it’s important.” He neared one of three circular doors leading from the airlock bay. Through the first-door window, light flickered in the adjacent corridor. Shards from a broken viewport floated inside. Sar approached the second door; utter darkness barred its window. His heart beat faster, and his breath fogged up his faceplate before it could defrost.
The third window revealed a Tannocci man in an envirosuit, leaning against a bulkhead. Several people sat behind him, their faces pallid from stale air.
“Jandeel?” he muttered, then rapped on the window. “Jandeel!”
Eyes meeting Sar’s, Jandeel rushed to the door, a strained smile on his lips. The others rose and hugged each other. Jandeel tapped the window and mouthed words.
“Enemies aboard. Don’t use main radio frequency. Kivita and Navon are trapped,” Sar whispered as he interpreted Jandeel’s silent words. He glanced around the airlock bay. “Bredine, how much air in here, you think?”
She turned the nozzles on five different air canisters. “Hmm. Not enough for you to argue with Kivita.” Jets of gas blew from the nozzles.
“What the hell does that mean? Never mind.” Sar pecked on the window and pointed at the canisters.
Nodding, Jandeel turned and gestured to his comrades. The other Thedes’ faces shone with new purpose. Sar wondered how they had accepted Kivita and her abilities, and Cheseia’s betrayal. Did they even know that she was a traitor? What a fool he’d been.
“Redryll? You can let them in.” The more Bredine spoke, the more coherent her sentences became.
Sar motioned for Jandeel and the others to stand back. Holding his breath, Sar removed his helmet and inhaled. The canister air had a metallic taste, having not gone through a proper scrubber. Jandeel nodded and led the others toward the door. Sar pulled the release lever.
The pressurized door slid open with a hiss. Those inside the corridor poured into the airlock bay, weeping, laughing, gasping.
Jandeel removed his helmet and sighed. “I couldn’t leave them in there, and we feared the bay had lost all air. It’s so damn good to see you again Sar. Thank the Solars.”
Sar clasped his hand. “Glad that knife wound healed. How was Kivita the last you saw her?”
“She’s doing things beyond anything we ever dreamed.” Jandeel beamed.
The other Thedes neared the airlock, then gaped at the Inheritor shuttle docked outside. They murmured among themselves and shot glances in Sar’s direction. Bredine stared at them with the authority of a military commander.
“Where is your queen? Black void out there. Cold. Hmm.”
Jandeel stiffened. “Everyone, Sar came here to rescue us. It should be his decision when we depart Luccan’s Wish. We still might save others.”
Sar raised a hand. “No. The Inheritors have fired on the ship. Shock Troopers have boarded, too.”
“Add pirates to that list,” Jandeel said. “Brutes in polyarmor separated me from Kivita, Cheseia, and the others as we descended a shaft to Level Eight. I managed to escape, and found these other survivors.”
So, Cheseia was still alive. Why did that bother him?
Sar gazed into the corridor. “The shuttle will take all of you, but an Aldaakian cruiser and other ships are out there. Best chance is to make a jump as soon as you can.”
“You’re leaving?” Jandeel’s brows rose.
“Hell, no. I’m getting Kiv and taking Frevyx.”
“I’m coming with you.” The intense loyalty in Jandeel’s eyes made Sar grip his hand again.
The other Thedes opened the airlock and rushed onto the shuttle, but a few waited, guilt on their faces.
“Go while you still can,” Sar called. “I’m not leaving without Kiv.”
Seconds later, the shuttle, and Sar’s nearest escape, departed.
“Kivita sends.” Bredine’s breath exited in cold clouds as the temperature dropped.
Jandeel looked at her with amusement.
“She’s a Savant that Rector Thev held captive on his ship,” Sar said. “I’ll explain later. What about everyone else?”
Jandeel frowned. “I don’t know. So many compartments have lost gravity, life support, or simply decompressed. We could have used that shuttle to link with Level Eight.” He gestured behind him. “We saw bodies floating on the opposite deck across the cargo trench. I have no idea how many have survived.”
“Why the hell weren’t the security protocols I came up with put into action?” Sar kicked a supply crate. “Told you we couldn’t hide forever, that we’d have to fight sometime.”
Sighing, Jandeel raised his hands. “There was such panic when the attack came, and—”
Luccan’s Wish shook. Sar steadied himself against a bulkhead, while Bredine reacted with precise reflexes, gripping Jandeel’s arm and the airlock handle. An explosion vibrated through the decks above them. The bay’s red warning lamps clacked off. Only the gas giant’s turquoise glow lit the chamber.
“Did you try to reach Level
Eight again? Should be another lift nearby,” Sar whispered to Jandeel.
Helmet still on, Bredine tugged Jandeel with her toward Sar. She pushed damp hair from Jandeel’s face, making the Tannocci Sage view her with exasperation.
“I wanted to try, but those I was leading feared the airlock bay may not have air, and none of them had an envirosuit.” Jandeel’s eyes narrowed. “I know you’re right. We didn’t even use the old evacuation plan, and . . . Cheseia betrayed us. We’ll never defeat the Inheritors like this, Sar. If the organization is to survive, we need Kivita to—”
The ship tipped again, making all three of them slide toward the far wall. Sar snagged his hand on the corridor doorway and crawled inside. Jandeel grabbed hold of Bredine’s waist, and together they followed. Though some of the canister air had seeped into the corridor, its foul carbon taste made Sar grimace.
“We can’t stay in here,” Sar said. “The planet’s gravity is pulling Luccan’s Wish down bit by bit. That son of a bitch Dunaar knew what systems to target.”
“Dunaar Thev? The Rector himself is out there?” Jandeel balked.
Sar shrugged. “We need a lift to Level Eight.”
“My group passed a second lift that still worked,” Jandeel replied. “But some of those pirates guard it, Sar. I think they want Frevyx, but don’t know or can’t hack your keypad sequence. My group refused to fight them, so we moved on.”
Sar forced down his rising anger. Shekelor and his men had moved fast—too fast, considering he’d left Arcuri’s Glory before that backstabbing asshole. His former comrade had gained more things from the Sarrhdtuu than just coils.
“Then we force our way in. Without Frevyx, there’s no use in searching for the others.” Together, he and Jandeel pried open the lift entrance. The darkened tube echoed with screams and clanging metal from below.
Sar hefted his baton and crept just over the ledge. Jandeel donned his helmet, drew a curved Naxan dagger, and followed with Bredine in tow.
Through the lift entrance, more shouts drifted up, followed by whimpers and laughter.
“Plumb stupid fucks,” a gruff voice said. “Gimme the girl, and ya can keep ya fingers.” Laughter followed the man’s comments.
After locking his helmet back on, Sar freed one hand for climbing. He stepped from the ledge into the shaft, then clawed into the sensor pits with his fingers. Below, the lift hovered near Level Nine.
Sar had climbed Freen’s jagged landscape in his childhood, and clambered through some of the most heavily damaged derelicts in the Cetturo Arm. Descending one-handed while using his boots for leverage, however, taxed his muscles to their limit. Though flickering yellow light shone from Level Eight’s entrance, Sar knew one slip would cost him his life. Jandeel and Bredine climbed down after him.
“Guess they wanted to leave on Redryll’s ship,” a thin male voice said below. “Stupid bastard will pay for that shit on Umiracan. My brother died, and we lost all those slaves.”
A woman screamed. The pirates laughed; Sar guessed at least six occupied the airlock bay, maybe more. Only with surprise could he even hope to succeed.
He finally drew near the entrance. The lift door had been blown off and lay just inside the airlock bay, charred and dented. Three mangled bodies lay near the far bulkhead. They bore the sliced cheeks and cut throats of Sutaran execution rituals, no doubt influenced by Shekelor. Once, Sar had done the same to Inheritor soldiers. How close had he come to being one of those pirates?
A small Ascali girl lay in her own blood, her amber eyes staring right at Sar.
Bredine came down and spotted the bodies. Before he could stop her, she dropped into the airlock bay and leapt forward. Shouts echoed from within, traveling up and down the shaft. Ringing metal, and a painful grunt followed.
“Kill the Thede bitch!” a pirate shouted.
Grasping the corner, Sar yanked himself into the entrance. He stepped fully into the airlock bay as Bredine jammed her elbow through a pirate’s faceplate and grabbed the man’s sword. Another pirate lay at her feet, head and neck leaning at opposite angles. Five other pirates rushed at her with swords, while three more aimed pistols. All of them had olive-tinted flesh and Sarrhdtuu carapace armor. A dozen Thedes lay strewn on the bay floor, dead or dying. Seven others cringed in one corner.
Bredine crushed a pirate’s cheek with her foot, then ducked and sliced off another’s fingers. A kinetic shot slammed into her left arm, but she kept swinging. Sar charged forward and drove the spike baton into a pirate’s lower back, then swung with both hands. The spikes crunched through the man’s cuirass and snapped his collarbone.
As much green as red blood splattered from the pirates’ wounds.
A pirate kicked Bredine across the floor and into a wall, and the sword clattered from her grasp. Sar slammed the baton into the man’s stomach, then brought it down across his neck. Blood sprayed from the ruptured polyarmor, but the pirate rammed a knee into Sar’s right side. Grunting, Sar broke the pirate’s neck with the baton. The man crashed onto the floor.
The other pirates took cover behind supply crates and fired again.
A shot grazed Sar’s left leg, and he dove for the wall on his right. Jandeel jumped from the lift entrance and shoved a pirate woman into the crossfire. She went down with a smoking hole in her back, green-rigged flesh popping.
One pirate slashed through the back of Sar’s envirosuit. The blade drew a deep nick through his skin as Sar turned to defend himself. A kinetic shot struck the wall a few inches from his helmet. His faceplate cracked from shrapnel impacts.
The pirate raised his sword, but Bredine snapped his neck from behind. The man went limp and crumpled at Sar’s feet, while Jandeel scrambled for the man’s sword. Bredine ducked and rolled toward the pirates as they trained their guns on her.
Sar flung the baton. It knocked one pirate’s gun from his hand, as Bredine tumbled up from her roll and struck with both palms. The pirate fell back, faceplate, nose, and mouth crushed.
The last pirate struck Bredine across the face with his pistol, then aimed it down as she fell.
Sar ran forward. “Here, you bastard!”
The pirate aimed at him and smiled.
“Sar!” Jandeel lunged for Sar as the pirate fired.
The shot blew away the left side of Sar’s helmet in an explosion of faceplate particles. Sar fell on his back, tasting blood as a thousand prickling stings materialized on his face. He rolled over and opened his eyes. They stung.
With both hands, Jandeel crammed the sword into the pirate’s chest. Polyarmor cracked, and crimson ran along the floor. A heavy mildew stench mixed with the scent of blood. The pirate batted Jandeel aside and punched Bredine’s helmet. Scrambling to get up, Sar glimpsed the pirate’s feet melding into the floor.
“Now I’ll plumb—”
The pirate’s head atomized in a cloud of blood and faceplate shards. Jandeel knelt nearby, holding one of the fallen pirates’ pistols.
Her own faceplate cracked, Bredine unlocked her helmet and tossed it aside. Jandeel grasped her wounded left arm and steadied her against him. Seven Thede captives raced from a corner and attacked any pirate still living. Two they stabbed to death, but one morphed right through the floor. The mildew stink thickened. Patches of olive liquid lay on the floor where the pirate had been.
“By the Solars,” Jandeel breathed. For the first time, Sar recognized fear in Bredine’s eyes.
What the hell were these pirates now?
Sar clambered up and wiped his face. A Dirr woman applied a cold pack to his left cheek. “Stars wink and glow! They found us in here, and—” She sobbed. “We tried to fight them, but they were too strong.”
Jandeel stared at the other Thedes as Bredine wiped sweat from his brow. “We should have stayed together. This shouldn’t have happened.” He kicked a dead pirate’s body.
A Tann
occi man, his temple bleeding, hung his head. “We have hidden too long. We thought that with the Narbas line reborn . . .”
Bredine seemed more concerned with Jandeel’s state than her own, though she was trembling from exhaustion and her wound. Sar wondered how dangerous the woman would be if nourished and healed.
Sar allowed the Dirr woman to pick faceplate shards from his forehead. “Stars fade, but you are right, Jandeel. Even though the stars turn black, you are right.”
After gently stopping Bredine’s ministrations, Jandeel bound her arm with medical tape supplied by the others. “Sar, we still have to find Kivita. I’ll come with you.”
Wincing, Bredine studied Jandeel. “You can’t go. Kivita is sending. I feel her. Hmm. Redryll?”
Sar took a sword and pistol from the bloody floor. “Sending? You mean you can sense her? Then she’s right, Jandeel. Get Frevyx ready. If I don’t return with Kiv, then leave the system with these people.”
“There are more survivors on Levels Three and Five,” the Tannocci man said.
Jandeel gripped Sar’s arm. “Kivita is more than just a Savant. She’s integral to our cause now.”
“Not doing this for me, Jandeel. Go to the other airlocks; get what survivors you can. Meet me back here.” As he keyed in the sequence to Frevyx’s airlock, Sar realized Kivita had infected these people with loyalty to her—a far cry from the selfish salvager he’d rescued on Vstrunn.
“We’ll meet back here, then.” Jandeel ushered the other survivors—three other adults and two children—to Frevyx’s airlock.
Bredine strapped on a sword and clasped two kinetic pistols. “Hmm. Kivita’s coordinates. Yes, they are sent.”
Sar gave her an exasperated look. “What?”
“Redryll? Kivita sends, and I follow.” Bredine looked at her ruined helmet and pointed at the lift tube.
“Kiv would’ve made her way to Airlock Eight.” Sar turned to the Dirr woman. “Were there any more pirates? What did they talk about?”
“Six others went down in the lift,” the woman relied. “Stars winking out, they talked only of . . .” She glanced at the bodies and whimpered.