The Fringe Series Omnibus

by Rachel Aukes

A small smile formed. “You’d shoot him for me?”

  “You bet, Snookum.”

  Bree’s lips thinned. “Sixx, remember how we talked about being good parental examples.”

  “Maybe just in the foot, then,” Sixx offered.

  Lily’s smile broadened.

  “Do you like Nova Colony?” Sixx asked Lily. “That’s one place Simon can’t go.”

  She nodded. “It’s warmer than Playa. And I like playing in the tunnels.”

  “Ah, so we’ve got ourselves a tunnel rat,” Sixx said.

  Lily showed her two front teeth and held up clawed hands, mimicking a rodent scurrying around.

  “Then Nova Colony it is,” Bree said. She furrowed her brow and turned to Sixx. “But Reyne—”

  “Will understand,” Sixx said. “He’d want me to live with my wife and daughter.”

  Her frown deepened. “But—”

  Sixx smiled. “Why not make it official? We could get married and adopt Lily—I mean, at least the adoption would be legal in the Alliance, even if the Collective ignores it.”

  Bree raised a brow. “Is that your idea of a marriage proposal? Because if it is, that’s got to be the worst one ever.”

  “We’re going to be a real family, not just a make-believe family?” Lily asked, her eyes wide.

  Sixx looked to the girl. “Oh, Snookum, we’re already a real family. But yeah, we’ll be a real, real family.”

  Reyne stood next to Sixx, who sat in a wheelchair, Bree and Lily to his right. He found it hard to believe that just a few years ago he’d had four crew members, all of whom had been with him for over fifteen years. First to be lost was Doc. Then Throttle left for a new adventure, though he’d been expecting her to leave the nest for a long time. And now Boden.

  Only Sixx remained, and he’d just informed Reyne that he and Bree were moving to Nova Colony, where Lily would be safe. Rather than disappointed, Reyne was happy to see Sixx move forward with his life. His friend had spent far too many years stuck in the past, searching for a long-lost wife, and letting vengeance fill his heart. While Reyne would miss Sixx, he knew there was a season for everything. And the season of the Gryphon seemed to be coming to an end.

  Reyne’s bones ached with arthritis and more—years of bearing too many burdens had weighed him down. After five decades of action, he craved a break from rebellions and fighting. Soon.

  He looked across to see Commander Fields standing before her small army of Alliance Marines. She had a strong presence—unafraid to make hard decisions, yet her humanity evident in the way she looked at people and spoke, as though every person were a family member. He had no doubt she’d make the finest military leader the Alliance would ever have. If the colonies had to face war again, he knew they’d be in good hands.

  They didn’t need him anymore.

  Reyne glanced to his left to see Critch, also in a wheelchair. Hari stood by him, and Reyne thought how they made such an odd couple—she a stalwart soldier, he a reckless rebel—yet they made perfect sense together. Seda stood nearby, with Layla on his arm. Another odd couple: the Alliance’s first president and a prostitute as his public companion. Beyond them stood the remaining specter crews, nearly forty in all.

  Between the Marines and the civilians stood two tubes. One bore the flag with a half lion, half eagle on it that matched the image painted on the side of the Gryphon. The other tube bore the flag with a naked woman covered only by a black cape—the Lady Lilith’s nose art. Domino, the Lilith’s captain, stood before Track’s empty tube, giving his eulogy.

  Boden’s tube was empty, too, of course, but it didn’t make the funeral any less meaningful. The two men had sacrificed themselves valiantly, without a second thought, to save their comrades. They were heroes, plain and simple.

  Domino looked at Reyne, then stepped away. Reyne swallowed, took a breath, and trudged out to stand before Boden’s casket. He looked around the hall one final time, seeing all the those assembled. Boden had saved at least that many lives throughout his life.

  “Most of you who are standing here today never got the chance to meet Tren Boden. He kept to himself most of the time, and for much of that time, he spent working under engines and on all the things that keep my ship afloat. He was a good man, and I’m honored to have the chance to tell you about him.

  “I met Boden sixteen years ago when my daughter, Throttle, and I were finishing a mail run from the fringe on Alluvia. The jump engine had gone offline on the last jump, so I was already running behind schedule. The docks’ engine shop at the docks gave me a one-month wait and was going to charge me more than what I made in two years hauling cargo. You know, the typical stuff citizen companies did to us colonists. I was stuck. If I didn’t get my jump engine fixed, I’d never make my mail runs in time, but I didn’t have that kind of money. And so, I left Throttle to watch over the ship while I went for a drink, hoping I’d find some inspiration in a swig of rum but at least knowing booze would soothe my nerves.

  “I was sitting at this dive bar in First City when I met Boden. He was still a kid back then—barely eighteen and less than a week out of school—walking up to each and every patron in that bar and offering to do damn near anything in exchange for a ride off Alluvia. As that kid made his rounds, he’d get shoved away and spit on, yet he kept trying. Something about his perseverance got me that day. Either that, or I just always had a weak spot for an underdog. I offered him a lift in exchange for him essentially doing whatever I asked him to do. I figured he could load and unload cargo, give the ship a good cleaning, that sort of thing.

  “I didn’t expect much from the kid. After all, his eyes were still glassy; he was coming down from a sweet soy high. He was an addict—just like nearly every other citizen born from tenured parents—using drugs to escape being poor in a rich person’s world. Even though he’d be soon looking for his next hit, I wasn’t overly bothered.” Reyne shrugged. “I guess we all have weaknesses, and I thought it was good to know a man’s problems right out of the gate.

  “But wouldn’t you know, that kid showed at the Gryphon less than an hour after I met him. He carried a single suitcase. I’ll always remember the expression on his face.” Reyne reached out and pressed his hand against the tub and smiled. “Boden carried so much hope with him that he didn’t need anything else. He dropped that suitcase of his on his bunk and went straight to work. He cleaned every inch of that ship—shined her to better than new—within the first day. By then, the engine shop of course hadn’t started working on my jump engine yet. Throttle continued to tinker with the engine, but like me, she never had the gift for mechanicals. Now, Boden was a different story. He’d only worked on fishing boat motors before, but that didn’t stop him. Throttle found him the manuals, and he dove right into that jump engine. I shouldn’t neglect to mention that he and Throttle hit it off a little too well, if you know what I mean.” Reyne gave a wry chuckle. “But that’s a story for another day.

  “Boden worked day and night on that engine for over a week, and damned if I know how he did it, but that kid got the engine running better than ever. And he performed those small miracles time and again over the years. “That was the thing about Boden. His brain was always working. He thrived on figuring out the inner workings of things. I never had to directly work with an engine shop again. Boden joined my crew and never backed down from a challenge, no matter what harm it posed to him.” Reyne grimaced and swallowed. “I guess that’s why I’m standing here today and he’s not.

  Reyne inhaled a shaky breath. He looked down for a moment to regain his composure. “But that was his choice, and his choices were what made him who he was. You see, Tren Boden was a dichotomy. He may have started out a fisherman—like his parents—yet he ended up working in space, the farthest place from any fish. He was a citizen, yet he had a colonist’s spirit of adventure and yearned to be in the fringe. Sure, he was an addict, but he acted selflessly—time and again—to save lives. He fought in the battle to reclaim Sol Base, eve
n though he didn’t have a lick of soldiering experience.

  “Now, I’m not here to turn Tren Boden into a larger-than-life hero. He wasn’t perfect by any means. None of us are. He fought against his addiction every day. He could be moody and downright temperamental. Perhaps his worst fault was that he flirted with my daughter.” He smirked, then sobered. “Joking aside, Boden was like a son to me, a friend to everyone he met, and a whole lot of people are alive today because of him.” Tears welled in Reyne’s eyes and he took a second to collect himself. “I suppose you could say Tren Boden is a larger-than-life hero after all.”

  Tension left Reyne’s body, and he suddenly felt finished in more ways than having just given an eulogy. He straightened, and headed back toward his group. As he walked back, he was surprised to see Critch rolling his wheelchair toward him. They met briefly, Critch gave Reyne a knowing look and a nod, then Critch continued to the tubes.

  When Reyne returned to his place, Sixx squeezed his shoulder. Reyne reciprocated. He turned back to the caskets to find Critch had stopped his chair in front of the tubes. Critch reached behind his chair, grabbed a case that had been in the back pocket, set it on his lap, and opened it.

  When he pulled out the instrument, Reyne inhaled sharply. He hadn’t seen Critch play a fiddle since the first Uprising. After a particularly bloody battle of New Teton, Critch had burned his fiddle, and Reyne had never seen his friend play since. It was too bad, too, because as much as Critch’s scars scared little kids, his music moved people’s spirits.

  Reyne didn’t know where Critch had found this fiddle, but he handled it as gently and respectfully as he would a fragile blown-glass egg. Critch placed the fiddle in position, raised the bow, paused, and then played. The music started slow, then sped up. It was an old Irish tune from Earth he’d heard Critch play a hundred times—always at a funeral. Critch said he’d learned the song from his grandfather, who’d learned it from his grandfather, and so it’d been passed down for a thousand years.

  The music softened before building in intensity, and tears welled in Reyne’s eyes as it brought forth memories of Boden finally beating his addiction. The sounds faded, but he could hear the music still playing in his head. The weight he’d felt before had lessened somewhat.

  Critch put the fiddle back in its case and wheeled back to where their group waited. Reyne looked down at him, made eye contact, and gave him a small nod at a job well done. They turned back to see Commander Fields walk over to the tubes, then press controls on her wrist comm. The tubes propelled down their railings into the missile bays and shot out from the ship.

  Then it was over.

  People mingled. Others left. Sixx squeezed Reyne’s shoulder before he and his family walked away, following Lily on some new adventure. Hari spoke with Seda. Many of the specters all headed in the same direction, which Reyne assumed was the way to the bar.

  Reyne stood still, not quite ready to let go of the moment. Critch hadn’t moved either. After a length, Reyne looked down at Critch. “I didn’t know you’d started playing again.”

  Critch shrugged. “I hadn’t until today.”

  “Well, I’m glad you did. So where are you off to after this?”

  “Don’t know yet. That bastard Anders blew up the Honorless, so I’m thinking about riding along with the specters for a time.”

  Reyne cringed. “That sounds miserable. For them, I mean.”

  Critch grunted.

  “How about a new ship of your own?”

  “Nothing could replace the Honorless.”

  “I know that, but I happen to know of a very nice ship—I hear she’s the best out there—that may be coming available within the week.”

  Critch narrowed his gaze. “What are you talking about?”

  Reyne patted his friend’s shoulder. “I think it’s time for the Gryphon to take on a new captain. Some fresh blood would do her good.”

  Critch thought for a moment. “She’d be a good ship. She’s not the Honorless, but she’s got spunk.”

  “Of course, you’ll have to find yourself a crew.”

  “A crew for what?” Hari asked as she approached the pair.

  Critch smiled. “I think I can pull one together.”

  Reyne “Well then, she’s yours. On one condition.”

  Critch raised a brow. “What’s that?”

  “You have to give me a lift back to Tulan Port.”

  “But I heard you gave up the stationmaster gig. What’s left for you there?” Critch asked.

  Reyne smiled. “I have a date…”

  Twenty-Two

  Finding Mason

  On board the Littorio

  Seda Faulk stepped out of the docking bay and into a damaged hallway. He glanced at the burn marks on the walls and had no doubt in his mind that Barrett Anders wanted him to see the damage the rescue mission had caused to the Littorio. He’d left Hari back on the New Liberty, since she was now a likely wanted criminal in Anders’s eyes. Instead, he’d brought a pair of Marines on loan from Commander Fields. He knew two Marines posed little danger to dozens of dromadiers, but both Hari and Shauna had insisted.

  A pair of dromadiers led Seda and his escorts first through the hallway, then up several floors in an elevator with dried blood smeared on the back. Seda had to give Anders credit—the man knew how to get a point across.

  When the droms approached a closed cabin door, they stepped aside and motioned for Seda. “The captain will see you now,” one said.

  Seda turned to the Marines with him. “Stay here.” He turned and entered.

  Inside, he found Barrett Anders sitting behind a large wood desk.

  “Corps General, it’s good to see you,” Seda approached and held out his arm.

  They clasped forearms, and Anders spoke. “President Faulk, it’s been too long. Though, you no longer need to address me by Corps General, as I believe the Collective has disowned both me and its colonization fleet. Parliament believes I gave them a black eye, when in fact I gave them every opportunity to embrace and champion the change.”

  “Hopefully, when you return, their perspective will have changed,” Seda said as he took a seat across from Anders. “I saw the damage on my walk up here. How’s the Littorio doing with repairs?”

  “All critical repairs have been made. We’re still scheduled to fly out tomorrow, and will make the remaining repairs en route.” He paused. “The damage was far less important than the loss of life. That’s why I wanted Drake Fender executed for his crimes before I left this system. This week, I lost twenty-six good crew members and have another thirty-two wounded because of him.”

  Seda cocked his head. “Forgive my bluntness, but those lives are on you. No one would’ve died if you had just left Fender alone.”

  “No one may have died on my ship, but more will die. Violence and anarchy are all he knows. Mark my words. As long as he’s out there, more lives will be lost.”

  “If he crosses a line, I give you my word, I’ll take care of it,” Seda said.

  “I hope you will, as we both know he’s still alive thanks to your help,” Anders said as he looked at Seda from the corner of his eye.

  “I do not know what you’re talking about,” Seda said with feigned confidence.

  Anders waved a hand through the air. “Let’s not talk of that man again. There’s too much to finish before the fleet jumps tomorrow and not nearly enough time.”

  “I agree,” said Seda. “All the supplies have been transferred, and I’ve verified the credits have been deposited, so you should be covered there.”

  “Yes, yes, that’s all good, but you know I like to get straight to the point,” Anders said. “I wanted to talk with you about the future of the Founders.”

  “Ah, I see.”

  “Nearly every Founder has joined the colonization fleet. If the Founders aren’t rebuilt, there’s no one to guide the Collective—and now the Alliance, of course—in a way that represents all people, not just those in power.”

/>   Lately, the Founders had done far more damage than they’d ever done good. Seda and Hari had debated about whether the Founders still provided value or if they were simply an echo of a once-great organization. Seda didn’t voice his thoughts. Instead, he said, “Continue.”

  “We need a leader to guide a new group of Founders, a group capable of empowering both the Collective and Alliance.” Anders leaned forward. “I’m asking you to take on the mantel of Mason.”

  Seda carefully considered his response. “The Founders have had enough Masons already. Rather, fresh blood requires a fresh way of thinking. I have an idea that will reimagine the Founders and what we’re capable of accomplishing together. Let me share my vision with you…”

  Seda returned to his ship with the Marines at his back. They went back to the crew quarters, and Seda headed to the bridge, where he found someone he hadn’t expected to see sitting in his seat. “Hello, Ranger.”

  “I heard what you said to Anders,” the Myrad said.

  “You have a bug in his office,” Seda said as a matter of fact.

  “If what you said is true, I no longer have a place in the Founders.”

  Seda smiled. “Quite the opposite, in fact. I plan to leverage your unique set of skills even more.”

  “But you told Mason—”

  “What he needed to hear,” Seda finished. “He’s leaving and won’t return for years, and in all likelihood, never.”

  The assassin cocked his head. “Tell me what your real vision is…”

  Twenty-Three

  New Beginnings

  Tulan Port, Playa

  Reyne strode into the stationhouse, past his office, and through the Collective wing. He cringed at the bots still working on the odds and ends in the hallway and sidestepped a spider bot busily working on a light switch, giving it a wide berth. He hustled past other bots to reach Hadley’s office and jumped inside.