The Fringe Series Omnibus

by Rachel Aukes

“Not my dock. Over a thousand Darions have been working full time—with no salary—building that dock. It’s their dock, and they’re calling it New Sol. It’s nearly complete, but don’t get your hopes up. Without access to Collective technology for the systems and launchpads, all we could build was a single slingshot dock. The largest ship that could be launched there is a class G.”

  Reyne frowned. “That’s slows things down a couple of weeks, but if we get started now, we could get all the torrents down here within a month. That’s assuming you can keep the dock hidden from CUF scanners.”

  “Don’t worry about me. Worry about how your transports will come in without raising suspicion. In case you didn’t notice, there’s a shiny warship with a full complement sitting above Sol Base.”

  Reyne smiled. “Yes. Sitting above Sol Base. In the past week, there hasn’t been a patrol ship sent more than five hundred miles out from here. When you withdrew your fighters from the city’s edges, the droms suddenly felt a lot more comfortable around here.”

  She rolled her eyes. “They think they scared off the resistance. They’re so prideful, they’ve never thought to consider the resistance has the upper hand here. Already, the resistance within this city outnumbers dromadiers nearly six to one.”

  “Taking Sol Base from the ground doesn’t worry me nearly as much as how we’re going to deal with the warship parked overhead.”

  “I don’t suppose you have any more of that blight on hand?”

  Reyne’s jaw tightened. “No. Even if I did, I can guarantee I’d burn it the first chance I had.”

  She sighed. “Then, no, I don’t have a plan yet for dealing with those ships up there. I welcome any suggestions.”

  “Vym has analysts working on scenarios. When we have options, I’ll be sure to get them to you.”

  “Fair enough.” She leaned back in her chair. “I hope you realize that evicting the CUF from Sol Base will be far easier than keeping them from returning. Darios provides over seventy percent of the Collective’s food. When Sol Base was hit, losing a season of food dropped the Collective into a severe recession. Imagine what will happen if we intentionally cut off the food supply. Parliament will send in every dromadier they have to reclaim Sol Base. It could open up the chance for them to change us from tenured workers to slaves, which I suspect they’d prefer.”

  “That’s why I’m not asking you to cut off the food supplies,” Reyne said. “I know Darions rely on Myr and Alluvia as much as Myr and Alluvia rely on you. Even with the ludicrous tariffs, they’re your biggest income sources.”

  She thought for a moment, and her lips curved upward. “They are; however, I suppose there are some things I can do to help inspire negotiations to end the war and lead to the independence of every Darion. Darios will be free.”

  “The fringe will be free,” Reyne said.

  Hatha stood.

  “There’s one more thing,” Reyne said, coming to his feet. “We’re taking on hundreds of new mouths to feed every day.”

  She smiled. “And Darios has plenty of food.”

  He nodded.

  “I’ll run the numbers. I’ll divert as much as I can without raising suspicion. We can load the transports when they begin to arrive.” She glanced out the window. “We can make this work as long as the CUF believes it controls Sol Base and, therefore, all of Darios. If it gets even a twitch of suspicion, we’ll see the entire armada in orbit within a week. If the CUF controls the space above us, it quite effectively cuts off our wings.”

  “I understand,” Reyne said. “We’ll do what it takes to see Sol Base in your hands. The CUF thinks there’s nothing left worth taking on Playa, so it’s left only a single destroyer in orbit. Vym can load and send transports out from there as fast as they can come.”

  “Speaking of Vym, I hear she has five Andre printers running now.”

  “One Andre. Four slightly smaller Andre-generics printed off the first printer.”

  “I want one.”

  Reyne’s lips thinned. The 3D printers, especially the largest Andre printers, were the most valuable asset anyone could have. To get their hands on one was the reason they’d gone after a CUF supply ship. It was a game-changer. “I’ll see what I can do,” he said finally.

  She smiled and nodded to one of her guards, who handed her a tablet, and she in turn handed it to Reyne. “This is an encrypted tablet. Use this for communications going forward. Also, this room is yours for as long as you need. You can always find sanctuary here.”

  “Much obliged.”

  “Tell Seda he continues to have my full support in his representing the colonies.”

  Reyne gave a small nod, and she exited along with her two guards.

  Reyne reclaimed his chair, examined the tablet, and set it on the table.

  Sixx checked the locks before walking over to Reyne and taking a nearby seat. “Well, that was easier than I thought it’d be.”

  “I wasn’t worried about getting her support,” Reyne said. “I’m more worried she’s going to take our army to run her own war against the Collective.”

  “Is that a bad thing?”

  “It can be if she only cares about gaining independence for Darios and leaves the rest of the fringe at the mercy of Heid and his crony senators in Parliament.”

  Sixx thought for a moment before speaking. “Worst-case scenario: even if only Darios broke free, it would set a precedent for the other colonies. You said yourself that Darios is the key. As long as it breaks free, there’s hope for the fringe.”

  “Darios has always been the key. I think Heid had the blight dropped on Sol Base to ensure the city was under CUF control before things had a chance to get out of hand.”

  Sixx chuckled drily. “Yeah, and only kill seventy thousand colonists at the same time.”

  “Seventy thousand potential torrents,” Reyne corrected. “Heid thought he had everything planned with his fellow Founders. He tried to have Vym killed, and never counted on Seda breaking faith. If it weren’t for those two helping the cause, we’d still be small, harmless clusters of resistance fighters.”

  Sixx grinned. “I hope I’m there to see the look on that man’s face when we take Sol Base.”

  Reyne sat and thought through all the plots Heid had hatched over the past decade to hold the Collective together. Even now, Reyne wondered if Heid wasn’t still one step ahead of them. He sighed. “I hope so, too.”

  Five

  The Bitters of War

  Rebus Station, Terra

  Critch had just opened the door when Kassel jogged out from his bedroom. “Wait! I’m coming with you.”

  “No, you’re not,” Critch said.

  “Yes, I am.”

  Critch sighed, closed the door, and turned to face the teenager. Kassel watched him intently while he tried to zip shut an overstuffed backpack.

  “Listen, kid. I’ve stayed here too long already. Every minute I stay here, I put you and your family in more danger. The droms will come looking for me. You’re a lot safer if I’m not here.”

  Kassel shrugged. “No one’s safe around here anymore. I want to go with you. I want to fight.”

  “You’re too young.”

  “You were only two years older than me when you fought in the Uprising.”

  Critch pursed his lips before he spoke again. “I’m not going to let you get yourself killed.”

  “I can take care of myself. Besides, I remember that you almost got yourself killed, and it was me who dragged your unconscious ass to safety.”

  He sighed. “This matter is not up for debate. You’re staying. Your parents will go nuts when they come home and you’re not here.”

  Kassel’s eyes narrowed, and his jaw jutted out. “My parents aren’t coming back. They were caught after curfew last week.”

  Critch paused as he watched the teenager. Kassel’s jaw trembled as though he was about to cry, but he stood tall. If his parents were caught after curfew, they were dead. The CUF made no exceptions. Not an
ymore.

  Kassel finished zipping his backpack and slung it over his shoulders. The pair stood in a face-off.

  The last thing Critch wanted was to bring kids into war, but the truth was, war had already come to them. There was no escape from the violence. Kassel was still at the age of invincibility—he could take on the galaxy and still make it home for dinner. At least Critch could keep an eye on Kassel if he took the kid with him, whereas if Kassel stayed behind, Critch couldn’t keep him from going after the droms on his own.

  He let out a deep breath. “Okay, kid.”

  Kassel’s features brightened as he broke out into a full grin.

  “But, you do as I say, no exception, no argument. Got it?”

  His head bobbed up and down. “Got it.”

  Critch nodded to the boy’s pack. “Let me see what you packed.”

  Kassel hurriedly shrugged off the backpack and handed it over.

  Critch unzipped the bag and dumped the contents on the nearby table. Clothes, toiletries, books, and various trinkets tumbled out. He picked out a toy spaceship and held it up with his brow raised in an unasked question.

  “Dad gave me that,” Kassel defended. “I’m going to be a pilot.”

  Critch set the ship on the pile. “We’re running for our lives; we’re not camping out. Take only what you need to survive. That means this bag should be filled with food and water.” He rifled through the contents and pulled out a small first aid kit. “This is smart. Keep the kit. If you have a knife, take it. And grab some gloves and a shemagh—you’ll need them.”

  “What’s a shem—”

  “A bandana or a scarf. Something to cover your face. Where we’re headed, you’ll need it.”

  “Where are we headed?”

  “Broken Mountain.”

  Kassel’s jaw slackened. “But that place is—it—”

  “I know. That’s why droms avoid it, and that’s why we’re headed there. Now, get your pack ready and let’s go.”

  Kassel swooped up the bag and its contents in his arms and hustled toward his room before pausing. He turned. “You better not leave me.”

  “I won’t. You’re one of mine now.”

  Kassel beamed and disappeared into his room, and a flurry of rummaging sounds followed.

  Critch turned his attention to the dinette. He unslung his pack, favoring his weak shoulder. He took a chair—his body still ached with battle fatigue—and set his full pack next to him.

  A few minutes later, Kassel emerged with a much emptier bag.

  “Now, fill the rest with food and water, especially water,” Critch ordered before looking down at his wrist comm. Still no response from Seda. Ditto from Gabe on the Honorless. Seda was understandable—Critch had known Seda would have to go dark after fleeing Terra. Gabe, on the other hand, was supposed to be parked behind one of Terra’s twin moons, waiting specifically for Critch’s call. That Gabe hadn’t answered meant one of three things: either the CUF had managed to block all comms leaving Terra, the Honorless had been taken or destroyed, or Gabe had abandoned Critch and the rest of the crew.

  For Gabe’s sake, it’d better be one of the first two options. Frustrated, he tapped a quick message to Birk on the Scorpia.

  RS gone to shit. Need a ride with stealth. RP at BM.

  The last intel Critch had on his friend was that Birk and Throttle were on their way to Spate to raise a ruckus with the droms in Devil Town. While the “Devil’s Playground” mission was more important than rescuing Critch, he hoped Birk could track down one of the specters—his pirate fleet turned torrent fleet—to make a pickup. With their stealth capability, they could bypass the shitstorm above Rebus Station.

  As for the rest of Critch’s crew, they’d separated a week ago to hunt down supplies. He’d yet to hear from them and suspected the worst. He put his wrist comm back into standby mode to keep any sniffer drones from picking up a signal, even though drones couldn’t pick up a signal unless they were within a dozen feet of it.

  “Can I get one of those?” Kassel asked.

  Critch looked up to see the boy eyeing his wrist comm. “We get off this rock, I’ll get you a top-of-the-line comm.”

  “Cool.”

  Critch pointed to the window. “Curfew’s in three hours. We need to make it to the tunnels by then.”

  Kassel’s eyes widened. “The nearest tunnel is eight blocks from here.”

  “But you were in the warehouse district.” Critch frowned. “Exactly how did you get me back to your place without getting stopped by droms?”

  “It was easy. I drove my parents’ truck. Arick and Jams distracted the droms while I wheeled you out in a crate and loaded you into the back of the truck. A couple droms saw me, but they don’t seem to bother with the looters right now.” He nodded to the torrent pendant Critch wore. “They’re too focused on finding folks wearing the teardrops. Do I get one of those?”

  “Maybe later. Tell me about the checkpoints around here.”

  “Sure,” the boy said. “It’s easy enough leaving town. Conscripts operate those checkpoints, and they don’t care—I think they want people to get out of this shithole. It’s getting back into town that’s the hard part. All the droms are citizens at the entry checkpoints, and they’re assholes.”

  “When we come back, we won’t care, because we’ll bring an army of vengeance with us.”

  “Cool,” Kassel said again, this time with much more hope.

  “Let’s head out,” Critch said.

  Critch covered his scarred face with his shemagh, and they left Kassel’s apartment building. They ran across other Terrans in the hallway. All gave Critch sharp looks, but they continued along their way after seeing Kassel was both unharmed and clearly not a prisoner.

  The truck was parked across the street, and the pair jogged over and climbed in. Critch let Kassel drive, since it was his parents’ vehicle and he knew the checkpoints. More important, with the teen behind the wheel, Critch had his hands free to shoot if things turned dire.

  “Let’s hope you fly better than you drive,” Critch said after Kassel overcorrected the wheel and abruptly hit the brake, then the gas pedal, all within a couple of seconds.

  “I don’t know how to fly yet. Wait, does that mean you’ll teach me?” His voice climbed in pitched as he asked.

  “One thing at a time, kid. Focus on your driving first. I’d rather die fighting than pancaked into the side of a building.”

  Kassel’s driving didn’t improve, but they passed through the residential neighborhood rather quickly. Critch was surprised to see few dromadiers walking the sidewalks or driving patrols until he realized the CUF would be focusing its numbers on chasing down torrents. The CUF had the ships and weapons, but the fringe had the numbers. The CUF could win a short war if it hit hard and fast. But, if the torrents could prolong the war using guerilla-style attacks, forcing the Collective to burn through its resources, the fringe had the upper hand.

  While he didn’t crave a long war, he’d do whatever it took to free the colonies, even if it meant he’d be fighting the rest of his life.

  Flashing lights caught his attention, and he saw a pair of droms standing at a checkpoint. “Okay,” Critch began, “This is how this is going to play out. We’re driving to my sister’s place in Hampton. I’ve been working all day and sleeping. Anything goes sideways, I’ll take out the droms and you step on it. Got it?”

  “Got it,” Kassel said before he squinted at the two droms. He grinned. “We won’t need a story. May and Leony are working. They’re both conscripts—from Spate, I think—and they hate the CUF.”

  “Even if that’s true, they can’t see my face,” Critch cautioned. “If they knowingly let me pass, it’s a death sentence for them.”

  “Oh. Then you’d better keep your face covered.”

  “Good plan,” Critch said drily. He lowered his head against the window and closed his eyes, allowing the barest of slits to see through. At the same time, he pulled out his blaste
r and held it against his waist, aimed at Kassel’s open window.

  The truck slowed as they approached the two dromadiers. Conscripts wore the same dark blue suits as citizens, except their uniforms were missing either the Myrad or Alluvian flag patches worn by citizens. And no conscripts could become officers.

  Kassel hung his arm out his window. “Hey, ladies. How are you doing on this lovely Thursday?”

  One of the droms stepped forward. She looked into the truck. “Where’s your pals?”

  “Family trip today, Leony,” Kassel said. “My dad and I are heading out to my aunt’s in Hampton. She busted her leg today.”

  “Yeah, yeah, whatever. You know the rules. I’ve got to log everyone who passes through here.”

  Critch’s grip around the blaster tightened.

  “I remember the rules, sure, but everyone knows that being on the lists is no good. And I know how busy you are. You probably don’t even get time for breaks. You know, if your mouth is feeling a bit dry, I might have something to quench your thirst.”

  “It’d better be none of that watered-down crap you gave me last time.”

  “Nope. It’s a brand-new bottle of Double-Moon to quench your thirst.”

  The woman lifted her nose. “Prove it.”

  Kassel reached under his seat and pulled out a bottle of Terran whiskey Critch hadn’t known was there. The kid handed it to the woman.

  She looked at it for a moment before unscrewing the cap and taking a drink. Her eyes squeezed shut. “Oh, yeah, that’s the real stuff right there.”

  “How about one for me?” the other woman asked as she approached the truck.

  Critch tensed even more.

  Kassel’s face fell. “Sorry, May. I’ve only got the one this time, but I promise I’ll bring you one next time.”

  “Anyone who says, ‘next time’ never plans on coming through here again. You said yourself you’re heading to your aunt’s. I’d bet you’re heading out for good. Is that what you’re doing?”

  “Nope,” Kassel said a bit too quickly.

  “How about your pops?” she asked.