by Bex McLynn
Two hard fist strikes was all the warning Wies gave before striding through the hatch. "Thane, Borac Alpha is ready to get you to Prykimis's bridge."
"Aye, Wies. Stand by."
He turned to Seph. She had fucking chosen him.
His chest tightened. He wanted to take her with him. But his team had prepped for these contingencies hours after Seph had been found. Her primary secure position remained the Hall and Chamber. Secondary was a bolthole and chute located under the Cuneiform desk.
Seph had her head down, hands trembling as she tried to close up his jacket. He crossed to her and placed his hands over hers. He selfishly basked as their touch triggered another thermal exchange, then fastened his jacket. It hung down, overly large like a tunic. To belay leaving her, he consumed precious seconds rolling up the sleeves.
"You have to go," she said steadily.
"Aye."
"Wies will stay with me?"
"Aye." He withheld stating that Wies would defend her with his life. She'd already experienced that commitment first hand, had bonded with Wies because of it.
"Is Rannik safe?"
"Aye." And he was. His data feed already confirmed that protocols regarding Rannik's safety had been enacted.
Similar protocols regarding Therion, however, experienced difficulties. It appeared his brother wanted to fight the mutineers rather than fall back to a secure position.
Fucking Therion.
"All right." She looked up at him, her face pale, her emotions not displayed. "Go kick some ass, Thane."
Her straightforward courage had him aching with pride. Overcome, he kissed her. Hard. It was the only thing he could do. If he gathered her close, he would never relinquish her.
"Armor her up, Strike Captain," he said as he strode from the room.
"Aye, Thane."
When he entered the Athel Hall, his men were already in defensive positions.
Someone barked, "Thane, here."
His aide, Varlet, appeared at his side, ready to pass over pieces of TacArmor. He stripped to his skivvies and began to suit up.
Varlet spoke as he worked. "Confirmed Grondin's leading an assault on the weapons cache."
Of course.
"Mernok's barricaded the engineering level, but is reporting eventual breach without support."
"Send Therion's detail." If his brother wanted to fight, he could at least do so where he was most needed.
Varlet passed him a bullpulse rifle. "Going to have to battle our way to the bridge, Thane. Multiple pockets of resistance."
"Aye," he said, snapping on his helmet. His TacVue fired to life, the screen streaming with data. To his fleetmen defending Seph, he said, "Hold the Hall at all costs."
"Fucking. Aye," the unit barked back in unison.
With a stiff grunt, he strode into the corridor, his strike team—Borac Alpha—falling to position, and set a course straight through the rioters. Turning a corner, he encountered bodies. Gaunt men wearing House Jahat's cheap uniforms. He couldn't tell if they were mutineers or casualties. There were also slain marauders, outfitted in mismatched combat suits and patch-quilt flex armor.
By Direis, if his house was about to bleed for Prykimis, the Dominion and TerTac better award him stewardship of the damn ship.
Suiting Seph into her armor should have been hilarious. A slapstick routine filmed in grainy black and white. Wies, playing the part of a valet, stoically trying to avoid both seeing and touching her skin. Seph, clueless, trying to shove herself into the armor while maintaining her dignity.
It was nerve-wracking in its solemnity.
At the end, Wies hovered over her, pulling and tugging, making final adjustments. His first tug yanked her off her feet.
"Little bit," he said, as if reminding himself of that fact. To Seph he said, "Tiniest TacArmor kit I've ever seen."
"It is kinda adorable, isn't it?" she said back.
"Precious,” he deadpanned.
And she would have snickered, only her head throbbed and her stomach rolled. She kept closing her eyes against the glaring light in the room, only cracking her lids for necessary peeks. She was too embarrassed to ask Wies if the lighting could be dimmed.
TacArmor was not what she expected it to be. Whereas Wies and the fleetmen in the Hall wore some sort of heavy assault armor, hers was more supple.
"What is this called again?" Seph asked, doing her best not to sound miserable.
"Flex armor." Wies gave a final tug on her arm. "There. Good to go."
At first, she was skeptical. The armor went on stiff, like a snowsuit—bib and then jacket. Wies showed her an internal activation switch and everything changed. The suit conformed to her body. She didn't feel squeezed, but the weight of the protective layer made her own movements sluggish.
"Gotta move in it." Wies demonstrated with some squats and jump tucks. "Suit will start to compensate."
Seph stared, stunned. Wies was a damn hybrid acrobatic linebacker. There was just no way... He'd have to live with a modified version. Seph did squats, sans jumps, and windmilled her arms. Earned her an amused grunt before he retreated to the hatch.
He spoke into his C-Cune and then to her. "Frouros and Sowar are joining us to secure the Chamber."
"No Keibin?" she asked. Keibin was the other guard who had defended her in the corridor.
"He requested point, m'lady."
Ah. She believed she understood. A redemption of sorts. Keibin probably wanted to be her frontline, pissed that he'd been taken by surprise in the corridor.
Wies and the two men stayed by the hatch. Subconsciously the strike captain kept tilting his head toward his right shoulder, the chatter on his C-Cune bending his ear. If things were grim or splendid, he never gave any indication.
She took a gulp of air, wishing it was fresher than it tasted, and tried to settle her stomach. Pressure kept building behind her eyes and throughout her skull. Hell. She knew this feeling. White light would sear through her head at any moment.
She staggered. The armor's pliable stiffness keeping her on her feet.
"We've got boarders," Wies said evenly, as if he were relaying the weather conditions.
A spike pierced her mind. She toppled and vomited.
Shouts went out. She knew she was hoisted up, not because she felt hands on her—not through the armor—but because the room spun on its axis.
"M'lady, can you respond?"
Shit? How long had Wies been talking to her?
"Seph, dammit." She heaved and her stomach emptied again.
Even encased in the armor, she knew her skin was clammy, covered in a cold sheen of sweat. Her fine body hairs flared with awareness, registering creeps and crawls across her skin. Something was trapped inside the armor with her.
She jolted and shrieked. "Out! Get it out."
She was flat on her back. Firm pressure on her shoulders kept her down.
"M'lady." A new voice.
"Seph," she said, moaning.
Wies harshly said, "Call her Seph, dammit."
"Please get the armor off," she said, sobbing. Her mind wailed, There's something crawling all over my skin.
"Seph, it's Submedic Feldser. I'm going to scan you. You need to remain calm."
"Please. There's something inside."
Another spike of light.
She lost time.
"Seph, you with me?" Wies spoke to her.
"With you," she echoed, her throat raw.
Her head rolled, too heavy for her shoulders. She lifted her hand, encountering blunt sensations as she attempted to touch her face.
"Got you helmeted, Seph. Gauntlets on, too."
She drifted. No. Being carried. The bright lights were gone, replaced by strips of crimson illumination—the sight lasers of rifles.
"Ship's gone dark." She heard Wies directly in her ear, through a speaker in the helmet. "Air reserves won't last. Evacuating you to Deleo."
When Wies ceased speaking, she was left in silence. "Can't he
ar anything."
"For the best, Seph," Wies rumbled, sounding grim.
The ship rocked and multiple hands shot out to steady her and Wies. She tried to see the men who led her to safety. She wanted to say thank you.
"Hang tight, Seph." Wies hoisted her higher. "Coming up on the hangar."
She tried to turn her head to see, but Wies dropped to a knee, freeing up a hand to protectively cradle her, tucking her closer.
More silence. Restrictive movement. Full awareness. Trapped.
It was like being back in the cryo-bin. Suddenly she knew, with unfettered clarity, that the Gwyretti trader had pulled her from a stasis pod.
She gasped, not able to get enough air.
"Deep breaths, Seph. Deep breaths." Feldser's voice now inside her helmet. "The suit has three hours of air. Just breathe. Slowly."
"Need out." They didn't understand. This was a nightmare, and she just wanted to wake up. She wanted to open her eyes, be in her bed, and know that Xander slept in the next bedroom.
Feldser spoke steadily through the comm. "Deep breaths, Seph. Deep breaths."
She shivered inside the armor, rattling her limbs against the taut flexibility of the material. Her skin still felt like tiny spiders crawled all over her. She couldn't bear it. She was going to tear wide open.
"Seph. Cease."
Relief flooded her. She knew that commandeering tone. Needed to hear it.
"Zver?"
"Wies's team is pinned. He needs you to hold steady."
"Hold steady." Would he come, like last time? The panel would slide away and he'd be there, waiting to catch her?
"Help is coming. Hold. Steady."
"Hold steady," she said. "I'm holding steady."
Zver grunted hard, like he'd taken a hit.
Just as she was about to call out to him, he said firmly, "See you soon."
Then he was gone.
Chapter Seventeen
Zver tossed the marauder over his shoulder, slamming the man into the solid wall of the corridor.
Seph was terrified, and where was he? Bogged down, slugging through marauders in a pitch-black corridor, ensuring that the weapons cache remained locked down.
He C-Cuned Mernok, his engineermaster, again. "Power status."
Mernok's comm opened, the background peppered with maintenance call outs, but it was Therion's voice he heard. "She's dead, Zver."
"Where the hell is my engineermaster?"
"Trying to revive her." Therion huffed as he spoke, as if each breath cost him. "Maybe send Lekar. And a priest."
Even now, fucking Therion.
"Wies is pinned at the hangar. Can your team get to him?"
"Wies. Hangar. No problem."
He heard a scuffle, then Mernok urgently countered. "No. No. No. Do not evacuate Seph."
"Like hell I'm not. The ship's venting atmo."
"Remember, after the attack," Mernok said hurriedly. "The ship's reaction. Seph has to stay if you want Prykimis back online."
Fucking Unholde. He never knew his engineermaster was a mystic fool. "Work the mechanics of the problem, Mernok. That's an order."
"Thane, teams are reporting two new airlock breaches." Laptrin, currently holding Prykimis's bridge, relayed the report over the comm.
With the power down, any outer hull hatches could be opened. His data feeds remained robust, the incoming data sourced from his men's comms and Deleo's connection to the AthNet. He heard the chatter. Men abandoned the ship, deserting to marauder vessels attached to Prykimis.
"Received," he said. "Let 'em jump ship. Concentrate on eliminating the boarders intent on staying."
He checked in with Wies again. They were still pinned, unable to make it into the hangar, but their position wasn't overrun. Fuck. He didn't want to leave her exposed, in limbo.
"Therion!" he shouted into the comm. "Go get Seph. Now."
"En route." His brother's voice sounded strained.
Shouts from the adjacent corridor grabbed his attention. "Get me Borac! I want to speak to Borac."
Godsdamn Grondin.
"Borac, here," he said in a voice booming.
"Give me a clear path to the hangar, and I'll call off my men!"
He frosted over, each breath coating his visor until his armor's internal atmospheric scrubbers cleared his view. His men already had eyes on Grondin and his followers. They were heavily armed, but none wore armor with self-contained breathers. Given enough time, he could just let the bastards asphyxiate. Solved almost all his problems—except, until then, Seph would be stranded in between.
"Including the marauders," he said.
"Including the marauders," Grondin said without pause.
"Granted. Passage to the hangar."
Grondin was slow to trust, wanting Zver to repeat himself several times, which irritated him greatly, yet made it all the more satisfying when he shot Grondin on sight.
Grondin's followers lost their bravado.
He leaned over Grondin, watching the man hold his arm and writhe.
"You fucking oathbreaker," Grondin said, his voice laced with pain.
No. He was an Expediter. "Never swore to you, Grondin. Call off the marauders, or the next shot's your kneecaps, and I leave you to suffocate."
"They're not all my clade."
"Call off the ones who will listen," he said. "Now."
"Won't matter. You'll be overrun. Biggest marauder clade ever is here for Prykimis."
"Then I suggest you change those plans." He pressed the muzzle of his rifle into Grondin's kneecap. His rage shook his arm. Hold steady. Hold steady. "Send the scrum codes."
Seph chanted her new self-affirmation. "Hold steady." Deep breath. "Hold steady." Deep breath.
Each time she puffed the words out, her visor fogged over with her rapid breathing, but she continued to speak aloud because she couldn't stand the silence. Other than her warbled mantra, the tympanic pounding of her heart inside her ears was the only sound she heard. Scattered beams of red light punctured the darkness surrounding her. She was trapped in a nightmare, hunkered down in a closet, just waiting for the bogeyman to find her.
Dear god, her chest hurt. Her head throbbed.
"Doing good, Seph," Wies piped in.
She didn't interrupt her mantra to reply to him. "Hold steady." Deep breath.
She didn't want to hold steady, though. She wanted to tear through the corridors screaming, looking for another bolthole.
Zver would find her.
Her concentration broke. She whimpered.
Nightmare. Nightmare. Locked in a box. Wanting out. Out. Out.
"Wies," she said, warning him.
Another bout of white light started to surge. It would hurt. Hurt so bad. The other surges were lobbed volleys. This one was meant to breach the wall.
Her entire body lit up; every muscle, every fiber, every synapse blazed to life. Her back bowed. Her arms and legs fully extended. She had no control. Strings pulled her taut, pulling her apart. So many voices yelled—into her ears, directly into her mind.
A soothing voice trapped underneath the cacophony chimed, "[I wake. I wake.]"
She snapped.
Everything rushed out of her. Her energy flowed into the ship, and Prykimis sucked it all up, like parched pockets of soil absorbing the flood.
"Fucking Unholde!" Wies's furious bellow broke through the raging in her ears.
A new thrumming started, strong and pure. Hold steady. Hold steady.
"[I fire.]"
Seph sobbed and spoke. "On the spiders crawling all over my skin?"
"[Aye. I fire.]"
She started to fade, her energy drained, but didn't hesitate to reply. "Dear god, yes. Yes, please."
Lights flooded the corridor, followed by an eruption of flashes. Wies threw himself over her, his large frame shielding her. Over his shoulder, she could still see the flashes, slivers of light streaming forth from a gun turret that had dropped down from overhead.
The words cl
icked. I fire. Shall I return fire?
The entire ship shook—not weak tremors, but stout pummels.
"[I fire.]"
White light surged and swept her away into darkness.
Chapter Eighteen
Zver winced as the lights flared, burning his eyes for a split second before his visor compensated and disengaged night vision. Input overran his data feed.
Prykimis just powered up, but she was more. Offline, dormant, and broken systems thrummed with life. The data overwhelmed his technopathy, and he staggered a few steps, careening into a wall. The information trying to channel through his mind was almost too much. He knew what bombarded him was residual, not even the brunt of the surge.
By Direis. Seph would have been hit by the full load.
"Thane!"
He snapped to attention. Saw the turret drop from the ceiling. Watched as dozens of darts struck and bounced off his armor.
Grondin and his men gave sharp cries of pain as the darts hit home, bringing them to their knees.
Then Prykimis rocked, her hull reverberating with the tell-tale recoil of railguns.
Another blast of data hit him. Unholy Unholde. One barrage. Half the marauder ships were floating debris.
"Vapen!" he shouted into his C-Cune. He knew, in his gut, that his weaponsmaster was not responsible, but he demanded anyway. "Did you initiate firing?"
Vapen's comm stayed dark.
"Thane," Chief Ochrona spoke urgently. "Prykimis's bridge has been compromised. Multiple officers down. Bridge not secure. Repeat. Bridge not secure."
Damn. No one on the bridge had been wearing armor when the attacked started. Only the security team had suited up.
He pointed to Grondin's slumped body.
"Bring Grondin with us. Keep the dart in." Then into his C-Cune he said, "Feldser. Bringing you a darted prisoner. Need the dart examined, posthaste."
Seph woke to cool fingers caressing her cheek. She snuggled closer and sighed contentedly. Zver. Finally.
"Ah, the Starburst awakens."
Not Zver. She cracked her eyes open and peered up at Therion. He sat, propped against the hull, and cradled her in his lap. A wall of armored fleetmen, facing outward, surrounded them.