Traitor (Rebel Stars Book 2)

by Edward W. Robertson

  "Any sign they're wise?" Kansas said.

  Yenna shook her head, stirring the long strands of hair that swept from her brow to her jaw. "Either they're still in the dark, or you'd never want to play poker with them."

  "If she wanted their money, she wouldn't gamble with them," Ced said. "She'd kick out their knees and grab their wallet."

  Yenna turned to give him a look. "Get a room."

  The ship sped on. As far as he could tell, they were near the rear of the formation, ensconced in a nondescript vessel that might have started its life as a light cargo hauler. Now, after years of battles and modifications, it was pure predator. One of the Dragons' jewels, the Tiamat. He suspected it was the ship Kansas had crewed on after leaving the Fightin' Iguanas years ago.

  There was no strategic reason for him or her to be here. Kansas was certain that neither Iggi Daniels, owner of Valiant Enterprises, nor her partner Thor Finn would be present. That had been the exact reason Kansas had been so insistent on being here with the Locker's fleet.

  "They won't be there because they're not certain they'll win," Kansas had said shortly after they'd departed the Locker. "And that's the reason they'll lose."

  On the screen, the Valiant/FinnTech armada grew nearer. The lights of the Hive's ships twinkled ahead.

  The comm blinked. Kansas opened the line, conjuring up the angular, creased face of Admiral Duwes, Valiant's commander. "Admiral Carruth. A pleasure to have you with us."

  "What's the scene?" Kansas said.

  "Our last update remains relevant. The Hive's forces are battered and depleted. Ready to be eradicated. However, your approach vector shows some inefficiencies. I have taken the liberty of sending corrections."

  Kansas pulled these up on another screen, studying the spaghetti-like tangle of lines. "Yeah, here's the thing, Duwes. I was talking this over with my people, and they said that your strategy is—and I had to clean this up a little for you—fucking bonkers. Puts way too much risk on our shoulders."

  The man's dark brows rose like bat wings. "Perhaps they fail to appreciate the losses we have already incurred, and the advantages you will bear as a fully supplied fleet."

  "Here's what they suggested instead." She flicked her hand over a device, sending a packet of info over the comm. "Humor me, will you?"

  Duwes' eyes scrolled to the right and skipped to the left as he read. Irritated lines folded his brow and cheeks. On the screens, the two forces drifted nearer and nearer.

  The admiral turned his gaze back to Kansas. "I hardly think now is the time to amend our agreed-upon strategy. You will proceed as ordered."

  "Ordered?" The edge in her voice was as slight as a breeze in the self-contained atmosphere of the Locker. But Ced heard it. And the hair stood up along his spine.

  "At the Locker, perhaps you are used to doing whatever you like. Out here, however, you are beholden to the chain of command. Continue this insubordination at your peril."

  "Don't like my idea, huh, Duwey? Then here's another suggestion." Kansas tapped something into her device, then smiled into the comm. "Die."

  The Locker's ships swerved as one. Already within the faint green sphere of the engagement zone—Ced had picked up that much, at least—they lit the tactical display with a galaxy of missiles.

  All aimed at the Valiant/FinnTech armada.

  On the comm, Duwes' face went ashen. "What are you doing?"

  "Breaking my chains."

  "You are a Vandal! A traitor!"

  "Betrayal's for friends," Kansas said. "When the slaves turn on you, it's called a rebellion."

  The first of the missiles slashed into their targets.

  * * *

  Rada's brain, unable to identify what her eyes were presenting her, tossed out potential explanations: that the missiles spearing from the Locker's vessels were part of some strange ruse to trick the Hive's defenses, or that they weren't actually missiles at all.

  Then the FinnTech fighters bent away from the incoming strikes, launching rockets of their own. The first ship vaporized. And Webber began to laugh.

  "No! Fucking! Way!" With each word, Rada pounded the dash with her fist. Webber and MacAdams stood, thumping each other on the back, jumping in place. Before she knew what was happening, she was on her feet with them, pogoing up and down, shoulders jostling, losing herself to the moment.

  The comm erupted with confusion and elation. Rada dropped into her chair, grinning so hard her face hurt.

  "Do you get what this means?" Webber said. "We held out long enough for them to get here. The three of us, we saved the day!"

  "With a small assist from everyone else in the fleet," Rada said.

  "Don't diminish our accomplishment. I say Toman owes us a new house."

  Orders appeared on the comm. They were to swing about, reengage FinnTech. Rada accepted the command and the Tine hove into a wide turn. But there was more to the orders than a resumption of the fight. They indicated the Hive's purpose was to join up with the Locker's navy and then continue the escape.

  Her stomach thudded. She sent a comm request Toman's way. On tactical, ships fought and died. The Locker's initial attack had knocked out eight or nine of the enemy, but now that the element of surprise was gone, the two sides appeared to be losing ships at an even rate. Given FinnTech's continued numerical advantage, symmetrical losses meant an impending defeat of the Locker.

  Toman's face appeared on her comm. "Make it fast."

  "Something's wrong with my orders," Rada said. "They appear to be calling for retreat."

  "Your orders are correct. Get in and get them out."

  "We can't stop now. We can take them!

  "Rada, you burned through the last of the drones. We're down to fighting with rocks and positive thinking. As for the Locker, they may be loaded for bear, but have you seen what they're flying? Total frankensteins. I'm pretty sure I saw a Crescent-class in there. It's not enough to win. It'll barely be enough to escape."

  Her throat tightened. "But they'll take the Hive."

  "They already have," he said softly. "Their marines have breached the station. We don't have the resources at hand to clear them out. Even if we were able to knock out their fleet, FinnTech can have reinforcements here before we can retake the station from the inside."

  "Then we'll go in as marines ourselves!"

  "You have your orders. We have a job to do."

  The connection snapped off. Rada sat in stillness, but inside, pieces of her were breaking away, tumbling down into depths she couldn't reach. Along with the rest of the fleet, the Tine completed its turn, bearing down on the enemy. The engagement zone loomed.

  "Rada," Webber said. "Hey, chief. I don't like this any more than you do. But we can't win this fight by our lonesome. So do we want to watch? Or do we want to kick some more ass?"

  She took a long breath. Sighted in on a target. And boosted the Tine forward.

  * * *

  The ship bucked, rolled, and slammed. The shock chair gripping Ced's head and limbs was supposed to protect him from the ravages of inertia, but mostly, it felt like being punched in all places at all times.

  He winced at a particularly painful jolt. "How can anyone fight like this?"

  In the next chair over, Kansas laughed. "You've spent too much time on the street, man. About time you got a taste of the real action."

  On tactical, a different sort of thing was happening from the things they'd been doing since ambushing Valiant. "It feels like we're trying to do battle inside a popping popcorn bag."

  "Don't worry, we're almost out of here. Hang tight. Full red!"

  "Full red," Yenna confirmed from the helm.

  On the screen, missiles sprayed away from every tube in the hull. The Tiamat corkscrewed through oncoming rockets, skimming near three enemy fighters. The engagement of ships, formerly an indeterminate blob, stretched outward from the middle, dumbbell-shaped. The center stretched thinner and thinner until the blob cleaved in two: Locker and Hive on one side, FinnT
ech and Valiant on the other.

  The acceleration continued to pin Ced to his chair, but the ship no longer shuddered or jostled. On tactical, the mass of Valiant/FinnTech fighters condensed, falling back, showing no sign they wanted to give chase.

  "Bunch of fish," Kansas muttered.

  Ced eyed the screens. "Aren't we the ones running away?"

  "And they should be pouncing. Next time we meet, we'll rip open their bellies and show those cowards where the rest of us keep our guts."

  "Incoming comm from…Toman Benez," Yenna said. Normally, she had the rock-solid affect Ced had found common in naval officers, yet she imbued the Hive commander's name with audible reverence. "He'd like a word with our commander."

  Kansas beckoned, fighting g-forces. "Patch him through."

  The comm screen switched to Benez' face. Young, obscenely wealthy, and eccentric toward everything Swimmer-related, he'd been a frequent fixture in news and gossip even before this recent insanity involving Valiant and FinnTech. Seeing him now, sweaty and haggard, was surreal.

  "Not to look a gift fleet in the nacelle," he said. "But I would have appreciated a little warning you were switching sides."

  "Nope," Kansas said. "Too easy for someone to let the secret slip."

  "My people know how to keep their mouths shut. In any event, thank you."

  "I was ready to come out here and cut your throat. You want to thank somebody? Thank the guy who shot me." She tapped something into the device in the arm of her shock chair, switching their side of the feed from her face to Ced's.

  Toman's eyes refocused on his. "I'm sorry, did she say you shot her?"

  "Don't worry," Ced said. "She deserved it."

  "You pirates have curious methods of conflict resolution. But you also have my deepest gratitude. Some day, I'd like to understand what we did to earn your assistance."

  "Simple: you cared."

  "I wish that worked with everyone." He smiled, polite yet impish. "Now, I'd like to begin to repay you by imposing on your hospitality."

  "You want to regroup at the Locker?"

  "We've been ousted from my preferred residence. I have others we could hole up in, but right now, I think it's best if we keep our forces consolidated."

  Within the restraints of her chair, Kansas tipped back her head, then shook it hard. "Can't do it. Every time outsiders have come in force, they've tried to take us over."

  "Kansas," Ced said. "This isn't your decision. We're going to trust him."

  "And if he betrays us?"

  "Then he's all yours."

  She nodded and met Toman's eyes. "If you make one move on my people, I'll pave our streets with your bones."

  Toman chuckled. "No worries, Raina the Barbarian. We'll be on our best behavior. We'll even bring some housewarming gifts."

  The link closed. Kansas shifted, considering Ced. "What have you gotten me into?"

  "A free life," he said. "You're welcome."

  The enemy armada fell further and further away. His limbs were quivering; they'd been clenched this whole time. He willed himself to relax. Flying at the vanguard of their dinged-up fleet, the view ahead was nothing but stars. He had seen this view in countless movies and video clips, but he'd never seen it firsthand until they'd departed the Locker on this mission. On their way to the war, though, the spectacle hadn't registered. He'd been too preoccupied with thoughts of Kansas and the coming conflict.

  Now, though, with the chaos receding, he seemed to see it for the first time. Some of the stars were white. Some were blue. Others were red or orange or violet. Some were isolated dots, surrounded by darkness an all sides, but most were part of a greater constellation, swatches and globs of light that looked capable of standing together even if every other star were extinguished.

  For the first time since the death of his mother, he felt at peace.

  23

  As the Tine brought up the rear of the retreat, Rada tried to stay focused on the enemy. To keep vigilant for any indication they meant to push the battle. But she couldn't. She knew it was over.

  And that she had lost.

  The ship soared in the wake of a hundred others, adjusting course to steer clear of the occasional piece of debris tearing away from a damaged fighter. The comms pinged with status reports and casualty listings. She knew she should dive into it, try to make herself useful. Instead, she closed her eyes. Could she sleep? Anything to escape the hollow anger and gurgling self-pity. There were plenty of meds on board. She could knock herself out. Drift, dreamless.

  "I dunno," Webber said in response to nothing. "It was probably the right call. We're spent. But I'm always going to wonder if we could have pulled it out."

  "You talk like we lost," MacAdams said.

  "What else would you call fleeing at top speed while the enemy pops champagne in your former headquarters?"

  "Beating the odds. Standing toe to toe with the champ, taking your shots, and dishing some back. We're running? That just means we're still here. And when we return, we're going to kick their ass."

  "Broadcast that speech to FinnTech, and they'll be the ones running away." Webber chuckled. "Hey, Rada. Don't tell me you're asleep."

  She didn't open her eyes. "Even with the Locker's help, we couldn't beat them. What makes you think it will be any different next time?"

  MacAdams was quiet for a moment. "Because it has to be."

  "Forgive me if I don't find that logic compelling."

  Webber laughed, unsure. MacAdams had his arms folded, expression somber, so dignified. Before he could say anything wise and flinty-eyed, she got up and went to her bunk.

  There, needing anything to drown out the noise, she turned on her screen and scrolled through the infinite forms of entertainment stored on the ship's hard drives, settling on a horror movie about a crew that crash-lands on an unexplored world and gets devoured by the native fauna. Two hours later, with the credits rolling, her device flashed.

  "Ahoy," Toman said. "Just wanted to check in. Make sure everything's all right."

  "You're kidding. Webber squealed on me? Concerned for my fragile mental health?"

  "Not sure what you're referring to, but I'm calling because you haven't. And that is highly unusual. Typically, following an engagement like that, you would deliver me a master's thesis on what we did wrong and what we need to do next." His smile shrank. "That was a joke. The truth is, I do want your input. Your help. We have a lot of work ahead of us."

  "Forgive me if I'm not in the mood."

  "I get it. We gave it our all, and those two psychotic would-be emperors took something good from us. But it's a long way from over. We're on the right side of history. People will start to see that soon."

  She stared into the camera. "I'm not optimistic like you, Toman. The reason I fight so hard is because I know we're all we've got."

  "Then it's a good thing we're all we need." He smiled, sympathetic. "Take some time off. Long flight ahead of us. When you're ready, I want to hear from you."

  The screen blanked. Annoyance welled in her chest. He acted like these things were no more than a bad spot in the road, something you could drive right over while suffering no more than a few bumps. But some damage you couldn't leave behind. Simm, the man she'd loved, was still months dead, killed by a FinnTech assassin. Scores of pilots and crew had died not hours before. One-eyed moons, she still carried Stem with her, her boyfriend from her mining days on Nereid, and when you got down to it, she hadn't even liked him.

  These weren't potholes in a road, to be left behind for smoother ground. They were people. And they were gone.

  Her main screen was blue and blank. She found another movie. When it finished, she couldn't remember what it had been about.

  * * *

  During the flight home, when Yenna needed an order, Kansas was the one who gave it. When Toman messaged, she was the one who answered. When a Needle arrived from the Locker, she was the one who listened to it first.

  They were on steady thrust, pr
oviding near-standard gravity, with no anticipated course changes, making it safe to walk around. Kansas was installed in the commander's chair, her leg draped over its arm.

  Ced moved in front of her. "We need to talk."

  "Give me a minute, will you? I'm waiting on a call."

  "This is exactly why we need to talk."

  She smiled, thrusting her jaw forward. "Right here? Or somewhere more private?"

  "Private. You'll take it better."

  Her eyes went hooded. She stood. "Yenna, if anything comes in for me, tell them I'm in the middle of something."

  She walked from the bridge to her bunkroom. This was larger than Ced's, but still hardly wide enough for two people to walk past at the same time. She sat on her bunk, holding onto a bar running along the underside of the empty bed above.

  "You want to talk?" she said. "Talk."

  "Do you need me to shoot you again?"

  "I'm sorry?"

  "The last time you were acting like the lord high dictator, I had to shoot you to snap you out of it. I'll ask once more: do I need to shoot you again?"

  She rubbed her shoulder. "You want something, then quit dancing around it and take it."

  "I want to be involved," he said. "I want us to hash things out. I want us to be equal. When you get something in your grasp, you have a tendency to crush it, like a toddler with a kitten. Look at this as a way to keep what you want: without me there to rein you in, it's only a matter of time until the crews make you walk the plank."

  "Appealing to my sense of self-preservation. You're getting smarter. And you're right. We sand down each other's rough edges—and rough up the soft ones."

  "We're going to need to involve the other crews, too. There's going to be resentment that you were working with Valiant."

  "I just stuck a knife in her back. If they think I place anything above our independence, they can go fuck themselves."

  Ced leaned against the wall, tipping his chin at the screen on it. "When I was young, I used to watch a lot of pirate movies. Original pirates—wooden ships, high seas, mouthy parrots. You know how the captains stayed captain?"