Leda opened her mouth to ask another question, but Stein cut her off. “When we step off this shuttle, you have to stay in your suit at all times.”
“What if I need to go to the bathroom?”
He fixed a sharp look in her direction. “Obviously you can take it off if you gotta go, but I’d rather you hold it in. We’ll be on borrowed time until the ship we steal clears Liider airspace.”
She pushed her lips into a pout but nodded in assent. They went over Stein’s plan until Leda could repeat it, word-for-word, with no prompting. Then it was time to go.
It took several boring hours to make it to Liider Spaceport, and Leda slept through the landing. She woke, angry with herself, but Stein assured her that she’d see a much grander spaceport when they arrived on Aurelis. She perked up as she attached several weapons to their holsters on the suit. If all went according to plan, she’d see Aurelis sooner than anticipated. Liider was the half-way point between the outer edges of Aurelis’s galaxy, and the planet itself.
After docking, Stein and Leda left the shuttle and went to find his contact, who handed him a small chip as he shook Stein’s hand. Leda felt safe assuming it was a he, even in a RomTek suit with the visor pulled down. He stood a couple of heads taller than her, with broad shoulders and a deep voice. Plus, Stein referred to his contact as “Odin,” who was male—at least in mythology.
The exchange went like this: Leda followed Stein through the spaceport, they came to a big courtyard, and “ran into” the tall suited guy. He shook Stein’s hand, said hello, acknowledged Leda, then walked off, getting lost in the crowds. Leda felt a little let down by the lack of excitement, but she consoled herself with the fact that they weren’t in the air yet. Plenty could go wrong still.
Stein walked to a deserted hallway leading to a dock. He slipped the chip into a slot on his arm and was silent as he viewed its contents. Then he told Leda they had two options, and both were docked three levels down.
“We’re supposed to remove our helmets in a spaceport if we’re not with Aurelis Security, but if you have the right attitude, no one will question you.” Stein held his back ramrod straight in the suit, his arms loose at his sides, one hand on the butt of his plasma gun. He walked down the hall, then back to Leda. “Like that. Try it.”
Leda mimicked his stance, throwing a little swagger into her step. When she turned and walked back toward him, Stein chuckled in her headset.
“Perfect. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’d done this before.”
Momentary pride blossomed in her chest. “Guess I’m a natural.”
“One more thing,” he said. “If someone asks you for ID, don’t freeze up. You need to own it. Act like you have more of a right to be there than they do, and they’ll let you off the hook.”
“So basically, I should act like a self-righteous prick who thinks the universe revolves around them.”
Stein laughed again. “Exactly. Now, I’m sending the info on this chip to your suit. You’ll be able to pull it up using the neural link, if you need it.”
A second later, the visor showed an incoming packet. Leda zeroed in on it with her eyes, and the packet downloaded. She now knew everything Stein knew.
“Let’s go.” He went first, and Leda followed.
They took a crowded elevator down to dock LD72. In the lift, a child stared up at Leda with wide, awe-filled eyes. She cocked her head to one side, letting his reflection in her visor distort a little. He giggled and shoved his thumb in his mouth. When the mother saw, she yanked the boy to her other side, away from Leda.
They really do fear Aurelis Security.
When the lift reached their destination, Stein pushed through the crowds to exit, and Leda imitated him. It was the kind of move she hated making, but desperate times and all that. She followed him to an empty hallway, identical to the one they’d been in before.
At the end, Stein said into the mic, “Count the guards while I locate the ships.”
Leda peered around the corner and counted the number of guards on the dock. There were three, all wearing the same dark blue uniforms with a string of seven white stars across the left shoulder as the rest of the spaceport’s security members.
She ducked back into the hall before they saw her. Down the hall she and Stein were in, Liider Spaceport’s main courtyard was bustling with lunchtime shoppers. The spaceport reminded Leda of an airport, with seating areas near carriers taking passengers to other stations and planets, restaurants, shops, and even a few hotels. Above them, a dome mimicked bright afternoon sunlight.
Stein was staring out a wide porthole showing a hint of the ships moored at the dock they were casing. Intel from his unknown contact had said there were two ships in Liider Spaceport that could easily be taken by a crew of two. Neither was close to Equinox in size, speed, or tech, which suited their needs fine. Their focus lay on stealth. Though older models of Escort Class ships, designed to escort important delegates through dangerous space, both were equipped with aftermarket cloaks and powerful shields.
“How many guards?” Stein whispered, still staring out the porthole. His face was obscured by the helmet’s visor, which he kept down since they docked the shuttle on the other side of the spaceport.
“Three.” Leda rolled her shoulders inside the suit, the weight of it now familiar. She’d had to rely on the suit since her crutches were on Equinox.
Stein stretched his arms out on either side of him, and through the comm connection, Leda heard his back pop. “Set your plasma gun to low.” He flicked a switch on the side of his weapon, holstered to his thigh.
Leda did the same. The weapon whined to life. “Will this kill them?”
He shook his head. “At a low dose, a plasma weapon emits a static pulse, sort of like a stunner, but it leaves a burn.”
Small price they’d have to pay in the grand scheme. Leda already had a massive scar on her back, much bigger than before. She assumed she’d collect a couple more before this was over.
Stein put a hand on her arm. “Ready?”
“Ready.”
He paused for a second. “Follow me. And remember, act like you belong and no one will question you. You’re supposed to be here, and anyone else is inferior.”
“Got it.” Sweat dripped down her back.
“Let’s go.” Stein stood taller as he stepped out of the corridor, headed down the dock.
Leda mirrored his movements, keeping that swagger in her step, watching the guards straighten when they heard the heavy thud from their RomTek boots. Inside her suit, beads of sweat trailed over her skin. The suit was like an oven.
“You,” one of the guards said, pointing at Stein. “Let me see your docking slip.”
Stein paused, turning his head toward the guard. Leda could see the man’s reflection in Stein’s visor. A thread of panic knotted in her stomach as Stein took a step toward the guard, his fingers dancing on the holstered plasma gun.
“What’s your problem, Kransvik?” the shortest guard hissed. “He’s Aurelis Security.”
Kransvik glanced between his two fellow sentries, wariness flashing in his eyes. “Why didn’t anyone say there were AS agents in this terminal?”
The third guard, too slight for his uniform and young enough to have just a year or two on Leda, backed away, flattening himself against the wall behind him. “Just let them pass,” he said, his voice shaking as much as his hands.
These Aurelis Security guys must be worse than Stein let on. Leda shot Stein a look through her visor, wondering how much he was going to play this role up. If the guards called for backup, she could see needing to shoot their way out of here with more power behind the plasma guns than a slight charge. She didn’t want anyone getting killed, but they were in the way.
“Let them wonder,” Stein whispered through the comm. At the same time, he began walking toward the skinny guard like a soldier possessed of a single purpose.
If things got rough, Leda would be prepared. She closed
the distance between her and the shorter guard. Blood pounded in her ears, a rush of adrenaline pumping through her veins. By sheer will alone, she kept from panicking or pulling out her weapon, but she kept her fingers near.
Stein reached the thin sentry and stood so close that his visor touched the guard’s nose. Stein was still as the guard shook, beads of sweat running down his face and onto his uniform. He said nothing, just stood there, patient.
Leda passed the short guard and Stein, continuing on like she had every right to be there, and they were holding her up. About halfway down the dock she spotted one of the two ships they were casing. It seemed perfect, and there weren’t any docking clamps holding it down. Acting uninterested by the macho display, she sighed heavily, turning on her heels to face the three guards and Stein, who still hadn’t spoken or moved. In the suit, he made for a menacing figure.
“Are you done?” she said, sounding bored, though her pulse hammered in her ears. “I want to get a move on.”
Stein tilted his helmet. “Are we done?” His voice sounded much lower than usual, and gravelly.
The young sentry stammered an apology, shaking so violently Leda thought he’d fall to pieces and land on the floor in a heap of bones and fabric. A moment of empathy for the guard flickered in her chest, but she extinguished the spark before it had a chance to become a flame.
“That’s what I thought.” Stein moved away, and the guard relaxed a fraction.
The other two guards stood frozen in indecision. Then Leda saw Kransvik reach for his weapon. In a flash, she pulled her plasma gun from the suit’s holster, aimed, and fired. A bright blue stream lit up the hallway. The guard didn’t have time to dodge the blast. It hit him in the chest, dead center, burning a hole through his uniform. Stunned, he stumbled back into the other guard, then slumped to the ground.
Leda took aim at the sentry, who was staring at the man at his feet. “Are we going to have any more problems here?”
He looked up, eyes wide with fear. “No, no trouble.”
“Good.” Leda motioned to the wall, where the third guard still cowered. “Drop your stunner and head over to your buddy.” To the skeleton, she said, “And you, stunner on the floor, then kick it over.”
They both complied. Stein took their comms, making sure they couldn’t contact anyone while he and Leda were making their escape.
“Nice work,” Stein whispered through the comm system in the RomTek suits. “Sorry I kind of froze there for a second.”
Leda tucked the stunners under her arm. “No worries. We’re almost out of here.”
Stein held out his hand for a stunner and Leda gave one to him, knowing what he had to do. She shut her eyes behind her visor as he shot the remaining sentries, but she heard their muffled cries and bodies slumping.
“Time to go,” Stein said.
“We’re heading for Aurelis now, right?”
He nodded. “Hope you know how to stop the Woede once we get there.”
Yeah, about that…
Leda didn’t have a clue.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Getting up from the chair took more energy than Roar could muster. He’d spent the night in Petrus’s cabin, sharing old memories and making a few new ones before he left. Who knew when they’d see each other again? Or if.
His comm beeped twice—the alarm he’d set earlier so he wouldn’t accidentally sleep through the arranged departure time. Though he doubted the others would leave without him, Roar didn’t like being late for anything. Look how well that turned out on the morning of Leda’s surgery. He’d find her, though. If it took until the end of time, he’d see her again.
Even if we can’t be together like that—I’m going to find her, and I’m going to tell her how I feel.
The comm beeped again, and Roar snatched it from his pocket and shut the alarm off. He replaced the device in his pocket, then turned to his friend.
Petrus smirked. “I guess this is it then.”
Roar started to respond, but the sound was lost as noise erupted all around them and the first blast rocked the ship. Equinox’s alarms were blaring. Quick as a thought, he reached for his comm again, a shot of adrenaline surging through him so hard it blurred his vision.
Even with stabilizers, the next explosion was powerful enough to jolt Equinox on its side. Roar braced himself on the table, but Petrus soared across the room and landed against the far wall with a sickening crunch. Blood spurted from his nose and bubbled from between his lips.
“Petrus!” Roar screamed. As he rushed over, knocking a chair aside and leaping over the bed, his heart shot into his throat. Dread sent tremors through his hands.
Petrus opened his mouth and coughed. A fine pink mist painted the air, splattering Roar’s cheek and shirt. Roar could barely hear over the rush of his pulse pounding in his ears combined with Equinox’s alarms. Something serious was happening out there, but Roar didn’t care about anything else except his friend.
That’s when he saw the table knife poking from Petrus’s chest at an odd angle.
The hull vibrated and a crunching sound screamed inside Roar’s head. Roar’s eyes locked onto the knife, so close to Petrus’s heart. Too close.
Pale and trembling, Petrus raised his right hand and finger spelled: “Pull it out. Before I heal around it.”
Had anyone else asked it of him, he’d have laughed. But Roar knew Petrus was right—the knife had to come out, and there wasn’t time to call for Rika or Arne. Ignoring the look in Petrus’s eyes, Roar steeled his nerves for the task ahead. He placed one hand on the knife tip, and the other on Petrus’s shoulder, keeping his gaze on the bloodied blade.
On the count of three. Just like when you jumped with Leda.
One.
Two.
Three.
Roar yanked the knife out hard and fast. Petrus’s body convulsed with the pain, his mouth a twisted grimace. In the next breath, Roar shoved his palm against the wound, nausea twisting his stomach. Aurelites might heal quickly, but if a vital organ was wounded and left unrepaired, there was no turning back. A fraction to the left and the knife might’ve gouged through his heart. Petrus could be dead, but by some miracle, he wasn’t. Now Roar waited to see if Petrus regained a little of his color. His head lolled back on the wall, his eyes fluttering shut.
“Come on,” Roar said, slapping Petrus’s cheek, sleek with sweat. “Stay with me.”
Oline’s voice screeched over the ship’s comm system. “It’s the Woede.”
Dread throbbed in Roar’s gut like poison. Petrus’s eyes flashed open and he tried to stand, but Roar held him down. “Stay where you are. There’s nothing you can do for the next half hour at least.”
Petrus finger spelled: “Go. Help.”
Roar was loathe to leave his friend, though he knew Oline could use him on the bridge.
“I’ll be fine.”
“You let me be the judge of that.” Roar lifted his hand slowly, testing the flow of blood. He wiped away the silver from Petrus’s chest and tore his shirt open. The wound had sealed over on the outside, leaving a pale, puckered scar in its place. “I think you’re going to make it,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm.
Petrus signed: “I know. Go.”
Though he shouldn’t have even considered it, Roar stood and smiled at his friend, then left the room, rushing to the bridge. Oline navigated Equinox through the pit of Woede battleships and Arne manned tactical. Nils lay on the floor near the door, a steady trickle of blood oozing from a wound on his head.
A current of fear zapped through Roar. Disaster was crashing down on Equinox. Dozens of Woede ships swarmed around them, including a battle cruiser. Roar could feel their weapons vibrating in space, a thousand plasma canons at the ready. They didn’t have a hope of surviving against this armada.
Oline spun and faced him. “A little help, Roar!”
He stood in the doorway surveying utter chaos. Sparks flew from panels and systems all along the starboard wall. Seve
ral systems were down. Lights flickered overhead, meaning the Woede were tapping into the power grid, like they’d done on Aurelis.
The end is inevitable now. At least Leda’s far away from here. He hoped.
A blast hit the ship causing gravity to waver, and for a second, Roar floated above the bridge floor. When gravity came online again, he hit the floor hard, the impact jarring his knees. Roar stumbled forward, shooting a leg out for balance. Failing, he was failing. I can’t do this. I can’t stop the Woede. I couldn’t even protect Leda.
“You can’t control the actions of others, so control how you respond.” How many times had his mother told him that as a child? And Leda, hadn’t she proved her strength time and time again?
He had to believe in her. He did believe in her. It was time he started believing in himself, too. He wasn’t going to give up, not while even the slightest glimmer of hope existed.
Roar almost crashed into Rika on his way to tactical. He hadn’t seen her enter the bridge, and he didn’t much care what she did now. The ship pitched to one side under the weight of a missile crashing against the shield. In moments like this, Roar wished he’d paid more attention when the Elders were instructing him on the mathematics behind shield tech. He could’ve used the knowledge to syphon power from the cloak, which was useless now that the Woede were right on top of them, and given more muscle to the shields.
At tactical, he relieved Arne, who had the look of a man unused to battle in his eyes. “These systems aren’t the same as the ones on Æsir. I’ve barely wounded them.”
Roar scanned the radar screen, adrenaline pushing him into sharp focus. He brought weapons online and waited a second for the target program to recalibrate. When it pinged, he showed Arne how to target and fire. Arne picked it up quickly.
Several new alarms sang out at once. Roar spun, facing Oline, and saw panic flaring in her eyes. He knew one of the alarms was proximity, and another meant imminent hull breach. The boarding pods.
“We need someone on the outside,” Oline shouted. “Arne, can you handle tactical in here yet?”
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