by Rachel Bach
Basil heaved an enormous sigh. “You are so human.”
“Thanks,” I said. “You don’t mean that as a compliment, do you?”
“No,” Basil said.
I rolled my eyes, and Basil gave a long, whistling sigh.
“Look,” he said with uncharacteristic patience. “You’ve heard how all aeons can feel the Seval, right?”
I nodded.
“Well, it’s more than just knowing where the planet is,” Basil said. “‘Seval’ is a human transliteration of—” He chirped sharply, and he was right, it did sound like he was saying seval.
“There’s no actual corresponding word in Universal,” he went on. “But ‘flock’ is close enough. And the nearer I am to the aeon homeworld, the stronger the seval, the flocking urge, is. You’re human, so it’s easy for you to say ‘just don’t be that way,’ but I don’t have a choice. When we’re around other aeons, it becomes harder and harder to be an individual, to make your own decisions. The flock pulls at you until you become what the majority expects, whether you want to or not.”
I cringed. That did sound pretty horrible. “So you dye your feathers to get out of what’s expected of you?”
“I dye my feathers because I don’t want to look like a tacky, oversexed moron,” Basil snapped. “I get out by working a job that keeps me well away from the Sevalis. Most of the time, anyway.” He shot a death glare at the other aeons.
“Well,” I said with a grin. “At least that explains why you’re on the Fool. After dealing with a flock full of jerks, even Caldswell’s madhouse would be a step up.”
Basil turned on me so fast I almost fell over. “Listen, simian,” he said, the words whistling with anger. “I don’t know where you think you get off talking like that about the captain, but Brian Caldswell is a good man. I realize you Paradoxians have a hard time appreciating that idea since it doesn’t have anything to do with shooting, stabbing, or drinking, but try to get it through your thick helmet. I owe the captain my life and I will not tolerate you slandering him any further, do you understand?”
“God and king, Basil. It was just a joke.”
“Do you understand?”
“Yes sir,” I said, putting up my hands.
Basil nodded and whirled around, his claws clicking on the metal as he climbed the stairs two at a time. “I want to be informed the moment the captain or Nova gets back,” he announced. “In the meanwhile, make sure those idiots don’t eat the nuts they’re supposed to be loading.”
“Yes sir,” I said again, but the bird had already vanished into the lounge. I sighed at the empty stairs then turned back to the cargo ramp, yelling at the aeons to get a move on.
Despite the rocky ending of our escapade in the cargo bay, Basil was actually much nicer to me than usual when we prepped the ship for takeoff that evening. We had everything packed in and secured by the time the crew got back. Rashid kept me posted on arrivals, but I took care to stay on patrol and out of the way. I’d successfully avoided the cook since our incident last night, and I wasn’t about to break that streak now. Fortunately, he seemed to be tied to Ren. The two of them vanished into the captain’s quarters as soon as they got back, much to my delight.
It was full dark by the time Mabel and Caldswell returned. We had the ship warmed up and ready to fly when they got on, but we never actually made it into the air. When Basil called the tower for final departure clearance, the flight control office informed him that all flights were restricted due to a magnetic storm in the upper atmosphere. The sky was perfectly clear and full of stars, so I didn’t see what the fuss was about. Neither did Basil.
“There’s less interference here than there was on Wuxia,” he was shouting when I poked my head into the bridge to see what was going on. “What are they waiting for, a bribe?”
“Maybe,” Caldswell said. The captain was lounging in his worn chair with his feet up on the new instrument board in front of him. “Relax, Basil. So long as we get moving by dawn, we’re still on schedule. There’s nothing wrong with a peaceful night every now and then.”
Basil folded his wings in a huff, but he didn’t argue. Considering how he’d been acting all day, I’d expected a full-blown tantrum, but Basil’s demands about respecting the captain apparently went for himself as well. That, or he knew it was pointless to try to push Caldswell around. The man was about as movable as a mountain range.
It was kind of nice to have a peaceful night, and, other than our run-in with the thug birds, Ample certainly was peaceful. Even the automated harvesters had shut down for the night, leaving nothing but dark and the sound of the wind in the fields. We’d already locked the doors for liftoff, so I just left them sealed. With Rashid on the roof, there was no point in patrolling outside anyway. Anything hostile that got within a hundred feet of the ship would be shot before I could reach it.
Since I was avoiding the cook like the plague, I asked Nova to bring me up two plates from the lounge. She was confused by the request but did as I asked, bringing me two plates loaded down with delicious-looking food. I thanked her profusely and ate mine in a rush before taking the second up to Rashid.
My new partner didn’t look like he’d moved all day. He was lying exactly where I’d left him, flat on his stomach with his rifle ready. I’d have felt a little bad about that if not for the fact that he’d just earned a day’s wage for lying in the sun.
He took his dinner with effusive thanks and a fawning note to the cook over the com. Since he couldn’t shoot and eat at the same time, I sat beside him, enjoying the night air while I kept an eye on the rest of the ship through Rashid’s open handset. It was amazingly handy to be able to watch things inside even while I was on the roof, and I was making plans to see about patching my suit into the security system as well when I realized Rashid had gone still beside me.
He held up his hand before I could say anything, motioning me down. I obeyed, flattening myself on my stomach next to Rashid’s discarded plate. With the moon overhead and the Fool’s exterior floodlights, the night was actually pretty bright, but it still took me almost a minute to catch what had put Rashid on edge.
The tall crops in the field across the road from the landing area were moving. That wouldn’t have been weird except that there was no wind at the moment, and the crops were rustling in a straight line. Far too straight for a wild animal.
Cursing under my breath, I flipped on my density sensor and cranked the sensitivity as high as it would go. The field was at the very edge of my suit’s range, but the Terran armor pushing through it was big enough that I saw it no problem.
“There are two behind us as well,” Rashid said.
I looked over at him. The voice had come through my com, not my outside speakers, but I didn’t see a mic on his suit. Even stranger, my side camera had been pointed right at his face when he’d spoken, and his lips hadn’t moved at all.
Rashid’s eyes slid to me, and his mouth curled up in a tight smile. “Implanted throat mic,” he said without moving his mouth, lifting his head a little so I could see the tiny scar on his neck.
My eyes widened. Implants like that were expensive as hell. What kind of merc had Rashid been, anyway?
But this wasn’t the time for that. I turned my attention back to the shapes my density sensor had drawn against the plants. “I see four in front,” I said, swirling my cameras. “You said two behind us?”
Rashid nodded, pulling on a pair of extremely nice goggles I hadn’t even noticed hanging around his neck. “And two more on the left flank as well,” he added, tilting his head. “Might be too far for you, though.”
“But not for you?”
Rashid smiled. “I am usually a sniper, Miss Morris. If I can’t see far, I’m rather useless, am I not?”
He had me there. “Can you show me?”
He nodded, and a video feed patched into my suit instantaneously. Suddenly, I had a new set of eyes to look through. Very, very good ones. Whatever sensors Rashid had in those goggl
es, they were phenomenal. My suit counted ten enemies in total, all armored, in a ring around the field where the Fool was sitting, closing at a steady pace. That was threat enough for me, and I beeped Caldswell.
The captain answered immediately. “What is it, Morris?”
“Sir, we’ve got ten bogeys closing in. Terran armor. You expecting someone?”
“Not tonight,” Caldswell said with a sigh.
I glanced at Rashid. “You want us to try talking first?”
“You’re sure they’re coming for us?” Caldswell asked.
I looked around at the empty field. “We’re kind of the only target, sir.”
“Fair enough,” he conceded. “Is the ship locked up?”
“Yes sir,” I answered, pulling Sasha from her holster.
“Then do it,” Caldswell said, and the com clicked off.
“You heard the captain,” I said to Rashid with a wide grin. “Pop ’em.”
“Yes ma’am,” he answered, easing his finger onto the trigger of his long, sleek rifle.
As a close-quarters fighter, I didn’t normally get a chance to watch snipers at work, but even I wasn’t ignorant enough to think that what Rashid did was standard practice. There was no hesitation while he lined up his sights, no careful aiming. I didn’t even hear the shot. He simply squeezed the trigger, and four hundred feet away, the plants stopped rustling.
Rashid was already moving to the next target. He pivoted his rifle slightly to the left and squeezed again. I was listening hard this time, but all I heard was a click and a soft whistle of air before another target went down. He’d dropped a third man before the enemy finally realized what was happening and started to charge.
As soon as Rashid squeezed off his second shot, I’d known that if I didn’t get in soon, there’d be nothing left. By the time the third shot fired, I was jumping off the Fool’s edge. No show-off maneuvers this time, though. I fell fast and landed hard, letting my suit roll me back onto my feet. Sasha was ready when I came up, and I hit the first man who broke cover square in the head from across the field.
I watched the bullet hit with visceral satisfaction. Even for me, that was a nice shot, and it just felt so damn good to be back in action after days of worry and bullshit. But as I looked for my next target, I realized something was wrong. Sasha had hit the first man dead-on in the helmet for a clean head shot, but he wasn’t going down.
That happened sometimes with the cheaper suits. Their response system kept them running forward even when the man inside was dead, but I didn’t think that was the case now. The armor’s helmet was dented and its visor cracked, but the enemy was still coming. My shot hadn’t gotten through.
I bit back a curse and fired again, hitting him at the knee joint where armor is always weakest. This time, the shot got through, and the heavy suit went down with a crash. My confusion had cost me, though. The enemy was clear of the crop cover now and close enough that I no longer needed to look at them through my density sensor. In the glare of the Fool’s floodlights, I could see that this was no bandit team in secondhand suits. These men were dressed head to toe in Terran High Velocity Full Plate, which meant we were in trouble.
“HVFP team!” I yelled. “Military grade, you won’t get through on the normal spots.” I pulled up my gun and jumped back, using the shadows at the ship’s base for cover while I lined up my next shot carefully. “Aim for the joints, they’re the hardest to armor.”
“Yes ma’am.” Rashid’s voice was calm in my ear. As he spoke, I saw the man whose leg I’d shot jerk as a sniper shot finished him off.
I shot the next man at the same time, but the enemy was as well trained as they were well armored. Their suits seemed to fly across the field, weaving in a pattern so erratic my targeting computer couldn’t keep up with it. Even with a wide-open field and the light at my back, I only managed to take out two more before they reached me. After that, I holstered Sasha and prepared for hand to hand.
As always, the Lady Gray was looking out for me. My suit had been keeping a running tally on our enemy since I’d first picked them up. Of the ten we’d seen at the start, three were down to Sasha and four were down to Rashid’s deadly silent rifle. That left three to go, the first of which was almost on top of me.
Like all Terran armor, my enemy was huge. His suit was black, sleek, and even larger than Cotter’s had been. But for all the expensive polish, he was still just a Terran tin can, and I let him get in close before I punched him in the side.
The second my fist connected, I let Elsie fly. She shot out of her sheath on the side of my wrist, her thermite edge firing as it touched the air. Phoebe never could have handled a kidney shot like this. She’d been a slashing blade, not a thrusting one. But with Elsie’s steel core attached to my armor, I was able to throw my full weight into the blow, and with the thermite going, the combined effect was breathtaking. The burning tip of Elsie’s tungsten blade lit up like the sun as it melted through the overlapping plates of the heavy suit’s articulated side, melting the blade-catch like a welding torch through a spiderweb to stab deep just below my enemy’s rib cage.
The Terran had braced for a punch, though not too hard. He’d clearly assumed, like most Terrans did, that my smaller suit couldn’t hurt his. If I’d only been punching, he might have been right, but it’s always a bad idea to let your enemy get close before you know her weapons. Unfortunately for him, people who make that mistake with me don’t usually survive to put the knowledge to use.
I could see the Terran’s surprise on his face through his tinted visor as he staggered. Then his breach foam fired, filling his suit with quick-hardening goo as his systems tried to plug the hole I’d made. But breach foam doesn’t mean jack to a thermite blade. I shifted my weight and pushed up, yanking Elsie through his ribs to finish the kill. The gutted man went down with a stagger, dropping his own weapon, a type of gun I’d never seen before, at my feet.
I didn’t have time to examine it. My next enemy was already rounding the Fool’s port side fifteen feet away. He must have been using a density sensor too, because he fired the second his arm was clear, shooting blind around the corner. My shield flipped up to catch the bullet automatically as soon as my camera saw the gun pointed my direction, but it wasn’t a bullet that hit me. It was a lightning bolt.
Electricity arced from the man’s gun, blasting through my shield and hitting my suit hard enough to blow me backward. For a moment, my systems flickered, but my Lady doesn’t go down that easy. She was back on line before I hit, flipping me over to land on my feet. Sasha was in my hand when I came up, and I fired a three-shot spread before I could think.
The man had made it around the Fool’s corner by this point, and all three bullets hit him dead in the face, but not before he fired a second time. The lightning shot out again, and this time I recognized it. He was using a charge thrower, the clunky, extremely expensive guns used to subdue armored combatants without injury. I’d never even seen one outside of the arenas, where they were used to take down blood-mad gladiators. Definitely not the kind of gun a pirate would carry, but then I’d known these assholes weren’t pirates from the second I’d seen the HVFP.
The bullets I’d shot into the man’s face threw off his aim, and the lightning missed me. Thanks to the damn HVFP, though, he was still moving. He jerked his gun up again, but I didn’t give him another chance. I jumped on him like a tiger, slicing through the neck of his suit with Elsie’s burning blade.
It was a beautiful piece of work. Elsie’s white fire was burning full tilt now, and the thermite’s heat combined with the hard strength of her tungsten core ripped through the superheavy armor like paper. But as I pushed up to finish the slice, I realized I probably shouldn’t be doing this. We needed to know who was attacking us, and it was hard to question a man without a head. I was finding it hard to care, though. The battle fury was singing loud and lovely in my head. For the first time in days, I didn’t feel sick, crazy, or confused. I felt powerful, and I t
ook my enemy’s head in a clean, masterful stroke.
I was just finishing the follow-through when my suit’s proximity alarm went off. I looked up from my defeated enemy to see the final man standing directly behind me. I spun as soon I saw him, smoke trailing behind my blade as Elsie burned off the last of his teammate’s blood, but it was too late. The man’s charge gun was already pressed against my back, and my whole suit jerked as he pulled the trigger.
Charge throwers are short-range weapons. The first bolt I’d eaten had lost some of its potency over the fifteen feet of air it had passed through to reach me. This time there was no such problem. The lightning blasted my suit full force, throwing me twenty feet down the Fool’s hull. Or that was what I assumed happened. I couldn’t actually see, because the moment the charge hit, my suit had gone dark.
I landed facedown hard enough to knock my teeth, bouncing across the dirt like a skipping stone. I was sending frantic signals to my cameras, but my suit was overloaded and nothing was coming up. But as I lay panicking in the dark, trying to get my dead systems up and under control so I could see my enemy before he killed me, I had the weirdest sense of déjà vu.
I had no time to worry about it, though. I rolled myself over, thanking the king that I wore a suit light enough to move in when its motor was dead. I pushed my visor up with clumsy fingers just in time to see the man running toward me, charge gun sparking and ready. Elsie was still burning blindingly white on my arm, but a fat lot of good that did. In an unforeseen consequence, the combined weight of my new blade and Sasha made my right arm too heavy to lift without my motor, effectively pinning me to the ground. I could still tilt my wrist, though, so that was what I did.
The man must not have expected me to still be kicking, because he didn’t even try to dodge when I swiveled Sasha toward him. Or maybe he just didn’t think I could do it. Considering the weird angle my hand was pinned at, I didn’t blame him. It would take a miracle for me to land a shot. But when you practice enough, miracles happen more often than you might think.