Captain Bayne Boxed Set

by James David Victor

  Dropping to his knees, Bayne found the dagger tucked in his belt. He drove it like a nail into the pirate’s foot. Then he ripped it out and, with one fluid motion, sliced it upwards through the middle of the pirate’s face.

  Bayne was dizzy now and wheezing, trying to breathe through the thick cloud of debris. He ordered his legs to move, but they proved mutinous. When he caught sight of a fourth pirate several feet out of his reach, he threw the dagger, sinking it deep into the man’s chest.

  Then it was over. Bayne was unarmed and unable to move. He couldn’t fight anymore, and there were four more pirates to cut down. He just hoped he took down enough to give the others a decent chance.

  As he watched the pirates move in, stepping over the bodies of their comrades, he wondered at Horus’s question. How was he coming at this? How was he coming at death? As a Navy officer? As a Ranger? Something else? He wished he knew. He would have liked to die knowing who he was.

  He squeezed his eyes shut as a blaster shot rang out. He mentally scanned his body, searching for the source of pain. He hoped it would be quick. A headshot. But he felt nothing. Maybe he got his wish. Maybe he was already dead.

  He opened his eyes to see a pirate drop dead, blood spilling from the hole in the back of his head. Two more shots rang out from the hallway behind the pirates. One of them fell from a hit to the chest. One was nicked in the shoulder. Then came a barrage of blaster fire. The pirates didn’t even have time to turn and face their attackers. They dropped in bloody heaps.

  Delphyne and Sigurd stepped over their bodies.

  14

  “All good, Captain?” Sigurd asked as he looped his arm under Bayne’s.

  “All good, Chief,” Bayne answered as he stood. “How much time?”

  “Seven minutes,” Hep answered.

  Bayne steadied himself and signaled to Sig that he was good to stand on his own. “The jump-ship?”

  “Secure,” Delphyne answered. “Most of the pirates have fled, from what we can tell. We haven’t encountered much resistance.”

  Bayne ordered them to gather up the VIPs in the office suite, which they did quickly. Then they all double-timed it back toward the jump-ship. Delphyne did not look at Bayne. He got the sense that it was intentional, that she was avoiding him. He wondered if it was her idea to disobey his orders and come back for him. Or was it Sigurd’s? Did she come along willingly? He didn’t know her to do much unwillingly. Though, that was the nature of the military. Will was not a factor. She was a loyal sailor. She would do what needed to be done to protect her captain. Bayne’s belly soured at the thought of her dying on this station out of her loyalty to him when his loyalty had only been to himself and his mission.

  Delphyne’s assessment of the threat seemed correct. They met no resistance in their trip back to the jump-ship, just a few dead bodies. They didn’t cross another living person until they reached the exfil location.

  Valoriae and her team were there waiting, maintaining a defensive position. “About time,” she said tightly. She loosened her stance, letting her eyes fall on Bayne and his company. They seemed to linger on Horus.

  “You find the VIP?” Bayne asked to keep up appearances.

  “Already on the jump-ship,” Valoriae said. “We were just about to leave without you.”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t,” Bayne said, stepping toward their exit. He and his people loaded onto the jump-ship. Valoriae’s team followed.

  The shift was swift. Three shots rang out, and the group Bayne had just rescued fell dead before they could step onto the jump-ship. Bayne barely had time to process it before Valoriae’s men raised their rifles, training them on him and the others.

  The jump-ship doors closed, trapping them all inside.

  Sigurd raised his in return, placing the larger of the guards in his sights. “What’s this?”

  Valoriae’s entire constitution changed. “You think we didn’t notice? You honestly thought you could stroll into Centel and steal classified documents without us knowing? You’ve spent too much time out in the Black.”

  Centel. Bayne’s head pounded. “Tirseer?” Bayne tried to piece it together through the concussion.

  “As soon as she knew what you stole, she knew what you were after,” Valoriae said. “She knew what you would do. That woman is like a witch sometimes, I swear. Give her a few pieces of seemingly disconnected intel, and she’ll paint you a masterpiece with them. She assumed that you had face time with Parallax during your mission at Ore Town, and she assumed that, given your history with him, he’d relay certain facts.”

  Ice froze around Bayne’s heart, making it hard for him to breathe.

  “Yeah,” Valoriae said with a smile. “We know who he is.”

  Sigurd was a rock at the edge of Bayne’s periphery. Delphyne twitched and mumbled something quietly to herself. It sounded like prayer. Hep was like a shadow, here and then gone, solid then not. Horus was a wildcard. Bayne had no idea what to expect from him. But he knew what to expect from Valoriae.

  The black operatives of Centel were ghost stories. They infiltrated governments and cartels, shedding one identity and taking on another like a hermit crab does a shell. They were ruthless, efficient, and deadly. They toppled regimes, murdering officials in ways that looked like natural causes or accidents. No one ever knew they were responsible.

  “Certain facts,” Bayne repeated. “If Tirseer knows what Parallax told me, then why am I still alive? Why not send me out the same way she did the rest of the Rangers?”

  “I don’t ask questions,” Valoriae said.

  “Sir,” Sigurd said. “If I may, what in the hell is going on right now?”

  Bayne didn’t answer him but continued speaking to Valoriae. “She’s trying to determine if her coverup is still intact.”

  Valoriae shrugged. “Like I said, I didn’t ask.”

  The jump-ship pulled away from the station.

  Bayne’s mind raced through the next few days. Interrogation. Torture. Disappearing into some black site at the edge of the system. Shot in the head and dumped into the void. Everyone on this ship would die.

  Time slowed around Bayne. He studied the situation. Looked for a way out. Thought about how he led good people to death’s door in search of answers. In search of a truth that only mattered to him.

  Then he wondered if Valoriae and her people knew how to decipher Parallax’s code, or if she intercepted his people’s message at all, because she didn’t seem concerned with the fact that the timer was about to hit zero.

  Time sped up again. A shockwave hit the jump-ship as the station exploded. Bayne compensated as best he could, knowing that the explosion was coming. He shifted his weight and managed to stay on his feet. Valoriae’s men weren’t so fortunate. The one with his rifle trained on Delphyne slammed against the wall. The other fell forward, toward Sigurd. He pulled the trigger—maybe intentionally, maybe not—but he shot Sigurd in the shoulder regardless.

  Sigurd definitely fired intentionally, obliterating the man’s face.

  Bayne planted his foot, forced himself forward, and drove his fist down into a man’s face, feeling his nose crunch against his knuckles. Blood spilled into the man’s mouth. He would have choked on it had Bayne not continued punching, smashing more bones, until the man stopped moving.

  Valoriae grabbed Delphyne by the throat, pulled her close, and stuck her gun to Delphyne’s head.

  “Stand down,” Valoriae ordered. When Bayne didn’t immediately respond, she shot Delphyne through the back of the shoulder. Delphyne screamed as her blood spread in a fine, red mist all over the front of Bayne. “Now!” Valoriae repeated.

  Bayne, Sigurd, and Horus stood still. Sigurd dropped his blaster.

  “Get us back to the Esper,” Valoriae commanded the pilot.

  The jump-ship lurched as it struggled to right itself after the shockwave.

  Bayne glanced around the jump-ship, only now noticing that they were the only ones aboard. “No VIP?”
r />   “Dead,” Valoriae said, pressing the barrel of her blaster to Delphyne’s temple.

  Bayne saw it on her face. “You killed him? Why? Why go through all this just to kill him? Why not just let the pirates kill him?”

  “We don’t leave things to chance.” Valoriae said. “You think it was chance that mine activated on its own?”

  A fire lit in Bayne’s gut thinking of the mine exploding at his back. Of Hep saving his life nearly at the cost of his own. “What aren’t you leaving to chance?” Bayne asked. “What does Tirseer gain by sabotaging an alliance with the Byers Clan?”

  “I didn’t ask,” Valoriae said. She smiled, and her eyes became pointed like knives. “I’ve studied you, Captain Drummond Bayne. Your time as a Ranger. Your service to the Navy. And it’s always the same with you. You don’t seem to grasp your place. You don’t understand the limitations.”

  “Of what?”

  “Of life,” Valoriae said. “There are limitations on everything. You do what you do, and you should be happy with that. But you never have been. You’re always looking beyond your scope, unsure of who you are and your place in it all. Never content to just sail your ship.”

  “Because there always seems to be someone else’s hand on the rudder,” Bayne said.

  Valoriae laughed. “Can’t deny that. But, again, that’s life. The freedom you seek doesn’t exist.”

  Bayne glanced out the window again. The dogfight was over. Parallax’s forces had pulled out. Triseca Station was a debris field surrounded by the carcasses of a few dozen dead ships. Dead Navy sailors. Dead pirates. Dead Byers Clan. All those dead, and Bayne wasn’t sure why.

  “Patch me through to Centel,” Valoriae said to the pilot. She relayed the situation to her superiors. Drummond Bayne and Elvin Horus were in custody. She was docking with Esper now and would escort them back as soon as possible.

  And with that, Bayne was a prisoner. All the illusions of freedom died. He had committed treason several times over. His actions on Ore Town. Letting Parallax go. Stealing classified information. Going rogue on Triseca Station. But none of that mattered. He should have died a long time ago with his brothers and sisters. He should have died a Ranger. He wouldn’t even die a Navy captain now. He’d hang as a traitor.

  15

  The jump-ship docked with the Esper. Valoriae’s gun never broke from Delphyne’s head. The lieutenant had refused to look at Bayne since they parted ways in the hall on Triseca. Even after she and Sigurd came to Bayne’s rescue, she would not look at him. Because Bayne made her question everything she believed in. She disobeyed her captain’s orders to save his life. She obeyed her captain’s orders when she suspected those orders were treasonous. He had forced her to choose between loyalties.

  He did to her what Parallax, what Alexander Kyte, had done to him.

  But she looked at him now. Because with a gun to her head, she still looked to her captain for safety. Because that was what a captain was meant to do: protect his crew. Whether she truly believed that was still his purpose or whether it was just instinct, Bayne couldn’t tell. But it broke his heart to see that longing still in her eyes.

  As the jump-ship powered down, the pilot stood and drew his sidearm. He pointed it at the side of Sigurd’s head. The landing platform opened. Valoriae escorted Bayne, Sigurd, Delphyne, Hep, and Horus off the jump-ship, into an uncertain future.

  Captain Hix was there to greet them. His face was contorted as he tried to piece together the disjointed details of the scene before him. “XO, what is this?”

  Valoriae stepped around her prisoners, leaving the pilot to keep them contained at blaster point. “Captain Hix, I’m afraid the details of my mission are classified.”

  Hix looked dumbstruck. “Classified? What the hell does that mean? I assigned you your mission to locate and retrieve a Byers Clan representative. Is this him?” Hix pointed to Horus.

  “Sir,” Valoriae said. “This man’s identity is classified. All I can tell you is that he and the others are to remain in my custody until we return to Central. If you must, you can contact Colonel Tirseer of Centel for details.”

  Understanding slowly untangled the features of Hix’s face. “Tirseer.” Hix said the name like it was cursed. “I see.” A flurry of emotions flashed over Hix’s face. Disappointment, frustration, hurt, anger. But they seemed skin-deep, like a mask hiding his true feelings. Bayne wondered if that was how Delphyne felt. The total upheaval of her world, wholeheartedly believing she was serving one purpose while blindly serving another. Then Bayne realized it was how he felt when Parallax took his mask off and told him what happened to the Rangers.

  Deceit on all sides.

  “Well,” Hix said. “I suppose you will need a place to detain them. We’ve taken some prisoners from Triseca, so the brig is nearly at capacity. I can make my personal suite available to you. It is the only private place on the ship right now.”

  Valoriae nodded. She didn’t seem to take the same delight in lording her black operative status over Hix as she did with Bayne. Perhaps she genuinely respected him.

  Hix escorted them personally to his suite, respecting the clandestine nature of Valoriae’s mission and choosing not to inform any of his crew. He would fit right in among the Navy elite. So quickly able to separate himself into two halves, the man and the officer. He could stow the man when his emotions threatened his work as an officer. Bayne almost envied him.

  The outer door to Hix’s suite was secured with a biometric scanner. He pressed his hand to it. It flashed red and then green, and the lock on the door clicked open. Hix stepped inside first and held the door open for his guests. A woman he trusted implicitly who had deceived him and several others being escorted at gunpoint, and Hix still treated them like guests.

  “This way,” Hix said, leading them further into his suite. They passed through a foyer and entered a living area complete with couch and television, a coffee table, and a desk tucked against the wall. It was an apartment, something Bayne would have been comfortable living in, unlike the single room he had on the Royal Blue.

  “Make yourself comfortable, XO,” Hix told Valoriae, “or whoever you are. If you don’t mind, it’s been a long day. I’m just going to change before heading back to the bridge.”

  “Of course, Captain,” Valoriae said.

  Hix looked pained. That skin-deep look, something disingenuous about it. “No need to be so formal, Val. I’m not your captain. Your allegiance is to Intelligence.” He loosened his collar, opening his shirt enough to see his white tank top and collarbone.

  Valoriae stiffened. “My allegiance is to the United Systems. I do my job same as you, sir.”

  Hix chuckled. It seemed like the first genuine reaction he’d had since Bayne arrived on board. “The classic excuse.” He pulled his tie free, like pulling a snake from around his neck. His collar fell open further, revealing the beginnings of a tattoo on his chest. “I’ve made it myself. Every person who has ever done anything they wished they hadn’t has made that excuse. They use the leash around their neck as a lifeline.” The uptight congeniality faded from Hix’s voice.

  “I had orders, sir,” Valoriae said. “I serve someone higher than you.”

  Hix’s chuckle deepened and became a full-throated laugh. “I should hope so.”

  Bayne noticed the twitch of Hix’s shoulder too late. The small flicker of muscle that seemed so out of place in the moment.

  Hix drew his sidearm and put a hole in the pilot’s head. He caught Valoriae in his sights before she had time to react.

  Valoriae’s face was stone.

  “I’ve always known who you serve,” Hix said. “That’s why I requested you as my XO, to keep Centel close. I am one of many who was tasked with finding proof of the truth. Nothing shatters empires like the truth.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” Valoriae still held her gun, though it hung low at her hip.

  Hix cocked his head to the side. “I believe you, Val. I don’t think you k
now anything about it. But he does.” He pointed to Horus. “Former Navy officer. Current Byers stooge. He’ll do.”

  “Who are you?” Valoriae asked.

  Hix pulled his shirt collar open to fully reveal his tattoo: a black vortex. “A free man.” He shot Valoriae in the face, splattering Bayne with her blood and brains.

  Bayne froze. Delphyne nearly convulsed, tensing so much that she was incapable of releasing the scream in her throat. Sigurd’s hands shook, aching for a gun to hold, but unsure what they would do if they had one. Hep never flinched.

  “Apologies,” Hix said, gesturing to the mess all over Bayne.

  Questions swirled in Bayne’s mind. He didn’t know where anyone’s loyalty lay, including his own. He barely had time to register that Valoriae was an agent of Colonel Tirseer’s before he was covered in her blood. Now the uptight captain for whom he’d felt pangs of jealousy, thinking him favored by Admiral Ayala, was revealed to be a traitor. A pirate.

  Hix lowered his gun. He opened a drawer on his desk and pulled out a bottle of black rum. He pulled the cork free and took a long pull straight from the bottle. Then he held it out to Bayne. When Bayne didn’t take it, Hix said, “It’s been a long day. And your days are only going to get longer from here. Have a drink.”

  Bayne took the bottle and drank. He swallowed a mouthful, felt the burn all the way down to his belly. He looked at Valoriae, at what used to be her face, then he took another drink. He made to hand the bottle back, but Hix insisted Bayne pass it to the rest of his crew.

  Sigurd drank. Hep sipped. Horus gulped. Delphyne took the bottle but refused to drink.

  Bayne knew that she didn’t drink. Even on leave, she didn’t touch alcohol. He’d read her personnel file. Her father was a Navy man, tracked for a captainship, maybe even a senior position. But he lost all that in a bottle.