by M. R. Forbes
The fact that she even had the thought disgusted her.
“I can’t leave without her,” Kett said.
“Get to the Faust,” Abbey replied. “I’ll find her. We’re out of time. Go.”
Kett nodded, and he and Siddrah moved toward the ship. She could hear him barking orders to the remaining soldiers as he did, ordering the retreat. She hoped they would all fit into the small star hopper.
She flexed her legs and jumped, almost straight up, gaining height to look down on the battlefield. She felt rounds striking her as she reached the apex, hitting the demonsuit, trying to puncture it and failing. Even so, every hit felt like a hard jab, and it hurt.
It also made her more angry.
She spotted Charmeine further back, still on her feet and fighting, her Uin a blur around her. How deadly could someone become with anything if they had all those years to practice?
She returned to the ground, rushing forward, holding up her hand and using the Gift to catch the rounds headed her way. She bent down as she reached a fallen soldier, picking up his rifle and cradling it in one arm. She rolled to the side, lowering the shield, coming up shooting. She hit one of the blacksuits in the head, another in the shoulder. They both fell. They were humans, not Converts.
She had figured out that it was one of Thraven’s strategies, to mix the undying with the regular soldiers. You could never be sure which was which until they got back up or refused to fall, and by then it might be too late. She had seen the Converts kill a few of Kett’s soldiers that way, when the soldiers thought they had scored a kill.
“Charmeine,” Abbey shouted, finally reaching her, joining her in the midst of the enemy. “We need to go.”
She didn’t slow. She didn’t pause. It was as though she couldn’t hear her. Abbey wasn’t going to try to reach out. She would risk getting her head removed by those deadly blades. She helped her fight instead, slamming a blacksuit in the head with her fist, turning and impaling another on a set of claws, lifting him and throwing him away. She let out a snarl, rushing toward another soldier getting in position to shoot, knocking the rounds aside with the Gift and slashing the claws along his chest, the naniate composite cutting right through the armor of the suit.
Something high above them echoed, a growing rumble in the sky they couldn’t see past the clouds and rain. Was it the Fire passing through the atmosphere on its way down?
She felt something hit her back and turned, grabbing the soldier and twisting his neck in her hands, feeling the bones shatter beneath her grip. She growled again, pouncing at still another enemy and jabbing her claws into his back.
She came up ready to fight, arms wide, claws extended. Charmeine was ahead of her, dropping the last of the nearby targets.
A Shrike dropped through the clouds and rounded overhead.
Charmeine killed the last of the blacksuits, standing frozen for a moment before realizing her area was clear.
Abbey grabbed the cowl and lifted it off her head. It was obvious the Seraph was confused, as though she had gone into some sort of fighting trance.
“Charmeine,” she said. The sound of gunfire was still constant behind them, but for the moment it was headed away.
Toward the Faust.
“Charmeine, we have to go. There’s no time left.”
Charmeine turned around, looking at her. Her expression changed immediately.
“Queenie,” she said.
Abbey noticed the dark blur tumbling toward the Seraph from the sky.
“Charmeine, move,” she shouted.
Charmeine looked up, raising her Uin to defend herself. The blur unfolded, a wave of energy passing through it toward the Seraph, a burst of blue fire that engulfed her. She screamed in sudden agony, clawing at herself as she fell to the ground. She stopped moving a moment later.
The blur slowed as it continued the descent. Abbey felt her own fire beginning to sputter.
“Abigail Cage,” Gloritant Thraven said, sinking from the air as though he was a feather. “We really should stop meeting like this.”
“You son of a bitch. You killed her.” All of those years. Millenia. Gone, just like that. She started shaking in her fury.
“Where is he?” Thraven said. “General Kett. I’d like to speak to him.”
“Frag off,” Abbey replied.
“Come, come, Abigail. We can make things easy. You don’t have to die here. I’m still willing to take you on.” His eyes danced around the battlefield. “I can see the signs of your work. Your Gift is incredible. It could be so much more.”
“Charmeine told me the price,” Abbey said. “You left that little detail out on Anvil.”
He smiled. “What does it matter, if we’re already on the same side?”
“I’m not a fragging puppet.” Her anger was continuing to build. The Gift was pure fire within her, so hot it began to feel cold. “Imp,” she said softly. “Go. Now.”
“What? Queenie, I’m not leaving without you.”
“You have to get Kett away. Charmeine is dead. Don’t tell him until you’re gone.”
“Queenie, I’m not doing it.”
“Thraven is here, asshole. He’s going to kill us all if you let him.”
“I can hear you,” Thraven said. His eyes scanned the smoke and haze, looking for the Faust. “There we are.”
“I’m not letting you near that ship,” Abbey said.
Thraven laughed. “Not letting me?” His brow lowered, his anger obvious. “Like you even have a choice?”
He flicked his finger. She felt his power buffet against her, and her own fighting to defend. She was pushed back, managing to stay on her feet.
His face changed again. “Oh. You’ve grown stronger since Anvil.”
“Imp, go,” Abbey said. “We can’t all die here.”
“Damn it, Queenie,” Bastion replied, his voice breaking. “Frag it all.”
Thraven started walking toward the Faust. He held his hands up, pushing out at it.
“What the frag?” Bastion said. “We’re stuck.”
Abbey couldn’t believe it. Was he holding an entire starship with his Gift?
“It’s Thraven. I’ll distract him, but you have to go.”
She took a deep breath. Then she charged.
He turned as she approached, so fast she barely saw it. His hand reached out, slapping into her and sending her tumbling away. She landed near a downed soldier, and she picked up his rifle, getting back to her feet and firing on the Gloritant. He put his hand up, blocking the slugs.
“We’re on the move,” Bastion said. “Whatever you’re doing, keep doing it.”
“Easy for you to say,” Abbey muttered as the rifle went dry.
She shouted, pushing herself toward Thraven. He pushed back with the Gift, trying to overcome her. She fought against it, using all of her anger, all of her hate, all of her fury and will just to keep herself from being torn away. She could see the Faust out of the corner of her eye, beginning to rise from the crater.
Thraven noticed it, too. He turned back to it, reaching up, catching it in the air with the Gift.
Something echoed in the distance, the ground shuddering beneath their feet.
The Fire coming to rest.
Abbey was free. She leaped toward the Gloritant, gaining velocity and heading in at his back. Why had he turned his back on her?
Something hit her from the side, slamming into her and knocking her off course. She rolled in the mud, coming up facing her attacker.
Her eyes narrowed. She thought she had been angry before.
“You,” she hissed, teeth clenching, claws spreading. “You fragging backstabbing bitch.”
Airi stood calmly ahead of her, katana in hand. Behind her, Thraven was pulling the Faust back toward the ground.
“I have people I care about, too, Queenie,” Airi said. “I’ve seen things from the other side. We can’t win this fight. My parents will be safe, now. Your daughter can be, too. Gloritant Thraven isn�
��t evil. He was hurt like I was. He understands.”
Abbey didn’t feel like talking. Not to her.
She rushed toward her in silence, not using the Gift. Airi shifted position into a practiced stance, raising the sword as Abbey approached.
Abbey turned slightly as the sword came down, cutting the air a hair’s breadth from her body. She could feel Airi’s Gift as the other woman tried to hold her in line with the cut, to pull her back to the blade. She wasn’t strong enough. Not nearly strong enough. Had Thraven believed she was? Or had he thought she would a least last a few seconds in this fight?
“I’m sorry,” Abbey said as she brought her claws up and into Airi’s chest, lifting her and holding her, looking up at her as she writhed on the end of them.
Then she drove her back down, pulling her to the ground and shoving, dropping onto her. Their eyes met. Abbey only saw more anger behind them. She brought her other hand down on Airi’s neck. She looked away as she raked them across and through, removing her head.
The Faust was back on the ground, even though the main thrusters were still spewing energy. She couldn’t imagine how much power it took to keep the ship static. He couldn’t hold it and fight her at the same time.
She had an idea. She grabbed one of the teleporters Jequn had given her, dropping it to the ground.
The light turned green, indicating there was another one somewhere else, already active. She didn’t know how to change that, but maybe she could use it. She took out a second one, tossing it a few dozen meters away. It activated, ready to be paired.
Then she gathered the Gift, using it to throw herself at Thraven.
He was so focused on the Faust; he never saw her coming. She hit him from behind, knocking into him, his grip on the ship immediately lost as they were tangled together. Abbey held a third teleporter, throwing it ahead of them as they rolled along the ground and the Faust began to rise once more. It landed in front of them, the light turning green just before they went into it.
They came out on the other side, at the edge of the device’s range. Thraven struggled beneath her, his power pinning her to the ground as he rolled off and stood, turning back to the ship.
Just in time to watch it vanish into the clouds.
“We’re out, Queenie,” Bastion said. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Abbey tried to move. Thraven’s Gift was so strong. He turned back to her, looking down on her.
“You’ve stopped nothing,” he said, lifting his hand. It began to burn with the same fire that had burned Charmeine. “He can’t hide from me forever. But that isn’t your concern anymore. I respect your courage, Abigail Cage. I respect the strength in you.” He held out his wrist. “Bite it. Take in my blood. Be part of the Great Return.”
“Will. You. Just. Stop. Asking?” Abbey said, struggling to breathe.
Thraven smiled. “Very well.”
His head jerked. The fire went out. The pressure vanished from Abbey’s body. Thraven turned around. A Uin was sticking out of his back.
“You forgot to take my head,” Charmeine said. Her clothes had been burned away, but the regeneration device remained wrapped around her neck. She approached Thraven cautiously, still holding her other blade.
“You should be dead,” Thraven replied, reaching back and removing the weapon. “You don’t have the Gift. You can’t hurt me.”
“But I can,” Abbey said, springing up and onto his back.
She slammed her hand into the back of his neck, her claws going through it. Thraven fell forward, onto his hands and knees. The Gift lashed out at her, throwing her aside before she could finish the decapitation. She caught herself in the air, landing on her feet. She had seconds, at best.
She threw herself forward with all of the strength of her Gift. Not at Thraven but at Charmeine, copying her earlier tactic. The two women collided, thrown across the field toward the waiting teleporter. Abbey didn’t know where it would take her, but if it put distance between them and Thraven then it didn’t matter.
They landed a few meters away from it. Abbey scrambled to her feet, pulling Charmeine with her. Thraven was back up, walking toward them, his face twisted in fury.
“Enough,” he said, his body engulfed in blue flame. He waved his hands out and a wave of fire extended from him, rushing toward them too quickly to escape.
“No,” Abbey said, raising her hands to try to defend against the attack.
“Live to fight another day, Queen of Demons,” Charmeine said as she shoved her sideways, throwing her into the teleporter.
Abbey’s voice faded as she crossed over to the receiving device. She dropped to her knees ahead of it. “Charmeine, no. Damn it.”
She blinked away tears as she turned it off.
37
“Time’s almost up, Gant,” Pik said from the back of the transport.
“I’m aware,” Gant replied. “Thank you, Okay.”
“Sure thing.’
Gant activated the transport’s comm. “Dak, can you open a channel ship-wide?”
“Roger, Boss,” Dak said. “Channel open.”
Gant barked once to clear his throat. He looked over at Erlan, sitting in the pilot seat of the Crescent Hauler’s shuttle. Then he began to speak.
“This is it, Rejects,” he said. “We’re almost to Kell. I know I haven’t known a lot of you for very long. If I had, I probably wouldn’t like most of you. But that doesn’t matter. What does matter is that we have a job to do, and we’ve gone through it and practiced it a few times over the last couple of days. Do what you’re supposed to, and maybe a few of us won’t die. I believe in Queenie, and she believes in you. So don’t let her down, and don’t frag everything up.”
“That was very inspiring, Gant,” Benhil said over the channel.
“I think you need to work on your speeches,” Pik said.
“I hate being in charge,” Gant said. “I want Queenie back.”
“You and me both,” Pik said. “No offense, but you don’t have the same I don’t know what.”
“How can I not have something you can’t identify?” Gant asked.
“I don’t know. That’s the whole point, isn’t it?”
“I suppose. Dak, you’re sure this is going to work?”
“I told you,” Dak replied. “It worked the last time, and that was with Thraven nearby. We take it nice and easy, and we’ll slide right past their orbital defenses, no problem.”
“The only reason I’m asking is because we didn’t have a lot of luck with being cloaked the last time.”
“That was a pretty big debris field. We’ll be fine.”
“Phlenel,” Gant said, contacting the Hurshin. “Are the Devils ready?”
“Loaded and ready, Gant,” her bot replied.
“Which one of you is going to be doing the flying, anyway?”
“Funny,” Phlenel said.
“I’m ready, too,” Ruby said. She was piloting one of the other Devils, and she announced her preparedness in a sultry, suggestive tone.
“I’m going to wipe you,” Gant said. “As soon as we’re done here.”
“As you command.”
“Locked and loaded,” Erlan said. “I’m ready.”
“Roger, Nerd,” Gant said. “Try not to wet yourself.”
“I’ve never wet myself,” Erlan protested.
“Not ever?” Gant said, looking over at him. “Be honest. I can tell when you’re lying.”
Erlan’s face flushed. “Well, there was that one time in space camp.”
“See.”
“I was eight years old.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“It does too. They had us in zero-g and wouldn’t stop the anti-gravity to let me go to the head.”
“I’ve heard that before.”
Erlan’s face was beet red. He looked away, staring out the forward viewport. “Fragging Gants,” he muttered.
“I heard that,” Gant said.
“Disengaging FTL i
n thirty,” Dak announced across the comm link.
“Time to suit up,” Gant said, getting to his feet and putting his hand on Erlan’s shoulder. “You know I’m just fragging with you to keep you loose, right?”
“Yes, sir,” Erlan replied.
“Good. I believe in you.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Gant retreated to the rear of the shuttle, opening the locker there. He found his gear inside - the second iteration of the shoulder-mounted weapon system he had created to seize the Brimstone. He had improved on the design, adding a second rifle, an automatic reloading mechanism, a mag-clamp that would lock it to his lightsuit, and a recoil dampener that would make it much more comfortable to use. He ducked under it now, standing up with his head in the center of it and activating the clamps.
“I should call you mini-mech,” Pik said, watching him add the mount.
“I should rip your fragging face off,” Gant replied calmly.
“Heh. Okay.”
“Devils, this is Jester. Remember, you have three missiles each. They need to strike precisely if they’re going to disable the engines, which means you have to paint the spot before you release them. Otherwise, they may go off-course.”
“Roger,” they replied.
“Dak will relay targets based on the sensor refinements I made,” Gant said. “Hit the ships that are active and able to launch first. Watch out for Shrikes.”
“Roger,” they replied.
“Castor,” Gant said to Gall’s lone remaining mercenary pilot, “if you take out all three of your targets, I’ll give you an hour with Ruby before I wipe and restore her.”
“Really?” Castor said.
“Really,” Ruby replied. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“Hey,” Benhil said. “Queenie would never go for that.”
Gant chittered. “Queenie isn’t here. Does the word ‘incentive’ mean anything to you?”
“Jester, if your missles are effective, you can have an hour with me, too,” Ruby said.
“No shit?”
“Just kidding.”
“Fragging synth.”
Ruby laughed. So did the others.
“Why am I always the punchline?” Benhil asked.