by Finn Gray
Hunter feinted with the left, moved to the side, and threw another jab. Hobbs partially deflected it and countered with a left hook that just missed Hunter’s chin. Hunter kept circling, feinting, moving his head. He peppered Hobbs with crisp punches and left him bleeding from a cut on his forehead.
Hobbs kept swinging for the knockout. Most of his punches missed, and the few that landed were glancing blows.
“What’s wrong?” Hobbs panted, his initial rush of adrenaline already spent. “Afraid to stand and fight?”
“I’m not the one bleeding,” Hunter said.
Hobbs ducked his head and bull-rushed him. He got his arms around Hunter’s waist and drove him backward, slamming him into the row of lockers.
Hunter kept his center of gravity low as he fought to remain on his feet. Lucky for him, Hobbs had plenty of strength but little skill. In a matter of seconds, Hunter had turned the larger man around and now it was Hobbs who was slammed back against the lockers.
Hobbs released his grip on Hunter and tried to punch his way free. It was what Hunter had been waiting for. He picked Hobbs up, spun him around, and slammed the surprised pilot to the deck. Hobbs got up right away, but he was wobbly and bleeding from a cut on his scalp where his head had struck the deck.
He raised his fists. “Let’s go,” he panted.
Hunter feinted another jab and when Hobbs’s hands went up, he threw a vicious roundhouse kick that caught Hobbs square on the kidney. Hobbs grunted, took a step back, and then the wave of pain hit him. His face contorted in agony and he collapsed to the deck as his knees gave out.
Hunter should have stopped there, but the cumulative rage over everything that had happened sent him over the top. He leapt atop Hobbs and began pummeling the fallen man.
Now the other pilots took a hand in the proceedings. Two of them hauled him off of Hobbs while Puma stepped between them.
“He’s had enough, Sir.”
She was right. Hobbs was curled up in the fetal position, his face a mask of blood.
“Look, Hobbs is a pain in the ass,” she continued, “but in his case it’s a matter of stupidity, not malice.”
Hunter relaxed. The two pilots who held his arms released him and stepped away.
“Maybe you should stay in the other barracks in between patrols.” Puma nodded in the direction of the quarters which he and Vera had briefly shared with the Vatchers and the Camp Maddux marines.
“How about you all get the sticks out of your asses?” Vera said. “Yes, you’ve lost many people, friends. But we did not kill them; the Memnons did. And you know what else? You’re not special. When we get back to the fleet, the story is going to be the same on every ship. At least you all know who lived and who died. We have to wait to find out.”
Her words cut directly to Hunter’s deepest fears. He had to know if Sabre was alive. She was a fantastic pilot, fearless, which was a two-edged sword. Being a pilot meant accepting the likelihood of one’s own death every time you climbed into the cockpit, and Sabre had no qualms about putting herself in harm’s way.
“Fine,” Hunter said. He tugged on a clean jumpsuit and followed Vera out of the barracks and into the corridor.
When they were out of earshot, Vera said, “You were going to hurt that boy.”
“Boy? He outweighs me by two stone.”
“You’re all boys to me, especially when you behave like that. You’d better hope the two of you don’t end up in the brig.”
“I know. I let him get under my skin. I’m embarrassed.” He could not remember the last time he had lost control like that.
“Is this about your wife, your girl, or both?”
“You are blunt, aren’t you?” Hunter’s wife, Trace, had been comatose for years. Although they had been headed for divorce before the accident, in the aftermath he found himself unable to dissolve the marriage. The situation had been a cloud that hung over his relationship with Sabre. Now Trace was gone—the care facility in which she resided obliterated by Memnon bombs. “My marriage, if you could call it that, was the biggest obstacle standing between me and Sabre. Now that’s been removed, and look where I am. It feels like it maybe it just wasn’t meant to be.”
“You don’t believe in all that ‘meant to be’ garbage, do you? ‘The universe has a plan,’ or ‘It’s all in the hands of the gods,’ all of that crap.”
“Hold on. You mean you don’t?” Hunter asked.
Vera shook her head. “The gods gave us free will to choose right or wrong, and they gave us rules to live by and examples to follow. The rest is up to us.”
“You don’t believe the gods have a plan?”
“They have plans the way any parent has a plan for their child, but we’re not puppets or characters in a simulation. Telling yourself everything is all right because it’s all in the gods’ hands makes for an easy way to stand by and do nothing while evil rises all around you. The gods have a plan but it’s completely up to us whether or not we execute it. Same with you and Sabre. Don’t blame the gods or the universe because you, like most men, have a problem with commitment.”
“I thought grandmas were supposed to be kind and sweet,” Hunter said. “But you cut right to the bone.”
“I came by it honestly. I worked in my grandfather’s butcher shop when I was a girl.”
Hunter laughed. “I think we just found your callsign, Butcher.”
Vera narrowed her eyes, thinking.
“Butcher Bates. That has a nice ring to it.”
Hunter grinned. “You are one sick woman.”
Chapter 19
Battlecruiser Dragonfly
Dominic Graves’ quarters held a few clues to the man’s personal tastes. A collection of old oil paintings hung from the bulkheads—seascapes and mountainscapes. He also had an impressive collection of knives. Most were old and foreign to Lina, but she did recognize a pair of vatari, traditional dueling blades from Vatome. Until a few hundred cycles ago, nobles had always settled their personal disputes with a knife fight, often to the death. Even though dueling had been outlawed, the occasional power broker turned up dead from knife wounds. Some people could never forsake the old ways.
“Are you trained to use these?” Lina asked, half-joking, as she looked at the many weapons mounted above a small writing desk.
“Most of them,” Graves said. “I’m best with a throwing knife. These were my grandfather’s.” He pointed to a trio of knives, short with dull edges and razor-sharp points. Their ivory hilts were dull with age and use. They were very old.
“I’ll wager your grandfather was not the original owner,” she said.
“You’d be correct. He won them in a fight... sort of.”
Lina cocked her head. “What does that mean?”
“The previous owner tried to kill my grandfather with them. He was wearing his lucky jacket at the time, which kept two of the blades from penetrating too deeply. The other took him in the thigh.”
“How did he survive with a knife in his thigh?” Lina said.
“Technology.” Graves stuck out his thumb and forefinger and mimed firing a pistol. “The knife is a useful weapon, but it has its limitations.”
“Maybe I ought to learn, considering the way things stand.”
Graves looked speculatively at her. “If we ever find the time, I’ll teach you.”
Footsteps echoed in the hallway outside. Lina looked up as a knock came at the door. She was still on edge after the assassination attempt.
“I think that’s your guard,” Graves said to Lina. “Please excuse me for a moment.”
Lina nodded as the admiral made his way outside. She heard the faint notes of a soft-spoken conversation that rose in volume and pitch.
“I should be on patrol with my CAP, not babysitting her imperial bitchface.”
Lina knew that voice. It was Serena Sabrakami, callsign Sabre, the pilot who had rescued Lina from Memnon abductors.
“Watch your mouth, Sabre. Right now, we have more pilots t
han we have fully-operational Cobras.” This from Admiral Graves.
“Then give me one of the Cobras and put someone else on babysitting duty. Recess is a noble like her. They’d get along fine.”
Lina smiled. Graves had warned her that her new bodyguard wouldn’t be happy with her new responsibility. That was tough luck for Sabre. Being happy in one’s work was a luxury, especially in a time of war.
“Listen to me carefully,” Graves went on. “I can count on one hand the number of people I am certain are not Memnons. You’re one of them. For now, it’s your job to keep the empress alive.”
“You need to learn to trust more.” Sarcasm dripped from Sabre’s every word.
“It’s easy to develop trust issues when your XO, someone you’ve served with for cycles, tries to murder you. It makes you question your judgment. Now, shut your hole and obey orders before I turn this into a permanent assignment.”
Sabre let out a long sigh. “Fine. I’ll guard the door while you enjoy some quiet time with the girl ruler.”
Lina smirked. Girl ruler? Sabre was only a few cycles older than her.
“How does Corporal Sabrakami sound to you?” Graves said. “Because if you don’t show the proper respect, that’s where you’re headed. Now, get your narrow ass in there and conduct yourself like an officer of the fleet.”
“Aye, sir.”
Lina almost laughed. That was the first time she had ever heard Sabre address her superior with the proper respect.
A moment later, Graves and Sabre entered the room.
“Your Majesty.” Sabre dipped her head in a semblance of a bow, but there was no mockery in it. Lina did not bother to point out that technically, she was still a Highness and not yet a Majesty. She hoped to rectify that issue soon enough that it wouldn’t make a difference.
“Are you still a lieutenant or should I address you as corporal?” Lina said, tilting her chin so that she looked down her nose at the pilot.
Sabre’s cheeks reddened and the corners of Graves’ mouth twitched.
“Your door is not as soundproof as you seem to think,” Lina said. “Or maybe Her Imperial Bitchface just has excellent hearing.”
“Sorry. Truly It wasn’t personal.”
Lina waved it away. She hadn’t taken it personally but neither did she believe Sabre regretted her words. It was clear the woman lacked a fully functioning verbal filter. Four battered armchairs encircled an old wooden coffee table at the room’s center. At Lina’s lead, they all took seats there.
“I’m just worried about our missing ship,” Sabre said.
Lina nodded. “Any news on that front?”
“Nothing has changed. We couldn’t keep the fleet at the Scarn Nebula,” Graves said. “Not with the Memnons possibly knowing where we are. We’re keeping a Mongoose on patrol there for whenever Kestrel finds her way home.”
“And if the Memnons appear again?” Lina asked.
“They’ll jump away.” Graves’ expression darkened.
“Any idea how they found us? Did a traitor leak our jump coordinates?” Sabre asked.
“Doubtful. Otherwise the entire Memnon fleet would have paid us a visit. I suspect they’re in the process of sending scouts to what they consider the most likely locations for us to take refuge and one of them stumbled upon us.”
“And when the scout ship that discovered us doesn’t return, they’ll be sure to investigate the nebula more thoroughly,” Sabre said.
“Our scouts are keeping out of sight in the nebula,” Graves added. “They won’t show themselves until Kestrel returns.”
“How long do we wait?” Lina asked. “I hate to say this, but it’s possible Kestrel isn’t coming back.”
“They’re coming back,” Sabre said. Anger burned in her dark eyes.
Graves flashed her a sharp look and she lowered her head.
“Sorry, Majesty.”
“You don’t need to keep apologizing to me, especially in private. And you don’t have to use my title in private settings.”
“That’s a relief.” Sabre visibly relaxed. She propped her feet up on Graves’ coffee table. “Some of our people were on board Kestrel. We need them back.”
Lina nodded. Captain Nathaniel Hunt, callsign Hunter, had been sent to take out a critical target on the surface of Hyperion. He had escaped with his life, but had been forced to dock onboard Kestrel as the fleet made a last, desperate jump to safety after holding off the attack of the Memnon fleet. And based on the subtle clues she was picking up on, Sabre and Hunter’s relationship went deeper than the fraternity of pilots.
“There has been one benefit to Kestrel’s disappearance. It’s given us an excuse to stay in one place for a while,” Graves said.
Lina understood immediately. “But they won’t remain calm forever. As the shock wears off, they’ll need to believe we have a plan and a purpose. We need to be moving toward something.”
“But toward what?” Sabre asked. “If we try to retake Aquaria, we’ll be utterly destroyed. And with the radioactive fallout, the surface won’t be liveable for a long time.”
“That’s my assessment as well,” Graves said. “But where do we go? With all the exploration we’ve done, we’ve found precious few planets where a human could even survive, and none that would support even a tiny population.”
“And none of those will be safe because the Memnon infiltrators will know about every one of them,” Sabre said. “Hells, they could look them up in a matter of minutes. They aren’t secret.”
“The Memnons came from somewhere, which means there’s at least one habitable planet out there. And if they managed to find one, so can we. And a single planet is all we need,” Lina said.
“That’s what I’d like your help with,” Graves replied. “We need to settle on a destination, and once we do, I need you to sell it to the civilian fleet. Even if it’s bullshit.”
Lina blinked twice. “I wouldn’t know where to begin.”
“The archives. You’ve been assigned quarters on this wing. You’ll have full access, including classified information.” He smiled at the expression on Lina’s face. “I did my homework on you. Your sister is the party girl. You prefer the company of books. I think this job is a perfect fit for you. And who knows? Sabre might even come up with a decent idea.”
Sabre looked like she had sucked a lemon. “I promise you I have no helpful suggestions. The only thing I’m good for is shooting down enemy birds.”
Graves smiled. “Well, Serena, I think this will be the perfect opportunity for you to expand your skill set.”
Lina stood and rubbed her hands together. While she found the task daunting, unfettered access to the archives was a dream come true.
“Let’s go, Sabre. We have a mission to complete!”
Chapter 20
The Scarn Nebula
“Cat!” Teddy shouted, drawing his own weapon and dropping to one knee, trying to draw a bead on whatever was inside. “What is it?”
Gwen lowered her weapon.
“Sorry. Totally my fault. This place has got me on edge and then I saw that thing.” She gestured inside where a human skull gleamed in the light of their headlamps.
“Are you crazy discharging a round inside here?” Smoke said.
“I said it was my fault. Now, shut up.”
Teddy led the way inside the small cell. Unlike the others, this one had clearly been lived in. The body lay beneath a shimmering silver-gray fabric. Blue jumpsuits made from similar fabric hung from hooks on the wall. Two pairs of boots lay on the floor. A mess kit lay on the table. Only dusty crumbles remained of the deceased’s last meal. The only personal effects were what looked like an outdated digital photo frame, and a stone carving.
“It looks sort of like Aquas.” Smoke picked up the carving. The figure did resemble the supreme god of Aquaria. He was powerfully built and carried a trident. But in this version, the god’s hair and beard were made of seaweed, and his legs were covered in fish scales.
<
br /> “Pretty cool,” Teddy said. Inside, he was conflicted. Did the similarities mean that this was an Aquarian facility, or did the differences mean it was put here by someone else?
“I’m going to take it back. Give it to the empress.” Smoke waggled his eyebrows and tucked the figurine into a pouch at his waist.
Gwen leaned over the corpse and pulled back the sheet. The skeletal remains were clad in another of the jumpsuits. There was no badge, insignia, or identifying marks.
“Who were you?” Gwen whispered.
“And what is this?” Teddy slipped a rectangular object out from under one of the corpse’s arms. It was about the size of a standard pad, but twice the thickness. It was hinged on one side. He opened it to reveal a vidscreen and several rows of symbols on raised squares.
“It looks like a keyboard, but it’s on buttons instead of a screen. Strange.” Gwen reached out and tapped one of the strange buttons.
“Primitive tech?” Teddy asked handing the object to Smoke to carry.
“I suppose.” Something caught Gwen’s eye. She leaned down and pulled back one of the sleeves of the corpse’s jumpsuit. A glint of gold and blue sparkled beneath her headlamp. “This is exquisite!”
It was a golden bracelet, crafted in the shape of a sea serpent. Aquamarine gems were inlaid in its eyes and fins. The style was reminiscent of that of the earliest Aquarian colonists. Teddy was no expert but he was certain this object was priceless.
“I think you should keep it,” he said to Gwen.
Gwen flashed a look of surprise his way, a flicker of a smile, and then a frown. “I know your game, Teddy Bear. I’m going to turn it in. It might be important.” She slipped it onto her wrist, held it up, and let out a little sigh. “But it’s nice to pretend.”
“We should keep moving,” Teddy said. “Where’s the signal telling us to go?”
“Keep going that way.” Smoke pointed out the door and to the right. “I’ll take the lead.”