by Ben Hale
“When I say go, put two dets in the air,” he told Gellow. “Full burn. Pile the rest onto the floor, right next to the kitchen wall beside the door.”
“I’m telling you, it’s not going to breach the floor,” Gellow growled from the opposite side.
Reklin ignored him as he sighted through the scope of the kiltracer. With his augment, he could now recall every moment he and Teridon had spent using the weapons. The ancient weapon fired a tungsten-cored ballistic round embedded with micro gravity repulsors, firing at just under the speed of sound. Each of the three rounds in the magazine were as thick as Reklin’s finger, and were unique for one reason: the micro gravity repulsors allowed the rounds to curve to a tagged location.
Reklin tracked the two spinning bodies through the scope. Visika had the advantage of experience, but both were bloodied, and Quel was obviously stronger. He’d managed to pin Visika to the floor, and was driving his hammer lower and lower towards her face. Every rune on the handle was charged, so a single ion bolt would kill Visika. Reklin tightened his grip on the upper trigger and fired once. A tiny tracer streaked across the room and embedded in Quel’s shoulder bone. Struggling to keep Visika pinned and bring the hammer to bear, he didn’t notice.
“Go!” Reklin barked.
Gellow activated two dets and hurled them into the air. The small weaponized gravity spheres could either float in the air and emit light, or be set to detonate. Both he and Reklin clenched their eyes shut. Holes across the seracrete plating of the dets opened, and light burst forth. One was blinding, and two burned bright enough that both Visika and Quel growled and shut their eyes against the glare.
As Gellow leapt out of the alcove and rushed to the designated spot, Reklin fired all three rounds in quick succession. Quel was well trained, and would recognize the burst of light as a herald for an impending attack. Situated as he was on top of Visika, he would roll the opposite direction, away from Reklin and Gellow. He would seek cover while at the same time firing his hammer on their position. But as an ion bolt streaked by Reklin’s neck, the tungsten-cored rounds tracked Quel’s movements, curving in their flight to hit the giant Bloodwall.
Reklin heard the impact from across the room—the three rounds knocked Quel from his feet. His eyes still shut, Reklin bolted across the room, using his memory augment to navigate the carnage. He leapt a burning couch and ducked a fallen power conduit. As he accelerated, he drew the energy sunderblade. At his touch, the power burned across the edge.
The full burn on the dets faded and the two balls fell to the floor, spent. Reklin opened his eyes as he reached the staggering Quel. Two of the kiltracer rounds had struck the shoulder close to the tracker, their sheer weight driving through his bones and flesh. The outer bones were broken open, and the inner bones were snapped. The third round had grazed his chest, drawing a bloody line across an outer rib.
Reklin attacked in a fury, swinging his energy sunderblade at the dakorian’s flank, then spinning to strike the opposite arm. Quel fought one-handed, his face twisted in pain and rage. His hammer just managed to block Reklin’s blade, but he was driven back towards the window. He twisted to avoid being driven into the open air and retreated towards the kitchen.
“Kiltracer rounds?” Quel snarled. “You think to stop me with such a relic?”
Reklin kept up the assault, driving him backwards. Even one-handed, Quel was faster, and his hammer hit Reklin on the shoulder and grazed his head, ripping the fake horns from his skull. Then, abruptly, Reklin retreated. He jammed the hilt of the energy sunderblade into a crack in a pillar and swerved around it.
Bewildered, Quel rotated and saw Visika also diving for cover. Then Quel shot a look over his shoulder. He was two steps from a pile of dets, and Gellow was just retreating around the corner.
Quel bellowed and tried to move, but the dets exploded simultaneously, the force of the blast sending him flying forward—into Reklin’s embedded energy blade. It nearly cleaved him in two. Huddled behind the pillar, Reklin covered his ears as the shockwave of thirty-two dets blasted damaged furniture out the windows.
Every surviving window shattered in a plume of smoke and dust, and fire swallowed the room. A chunk of seracrete hit one of the Ro fighters that had gotten too close and smashed through its port side. The ship careened away, smog and sparks coming from the hole.
His head and ears ringing, Reklin eased out from behind the pillar and surveyed the damage. The floor and ceiling were scorched black, and small fires raged in pockets of flammable materials. The kitchen was obliterated, with the neighboring walls reduced to rubble.
Despite Quel’s entire back being bloodied and charred, and Reklin’s blade piercing his belly, he was still alive. He stumbled backwards and fell on his side, where he gasped for air.
Reklin approached and grasped the hilt of his energy sunderblade. “I thank you for the blade,” he said, yanking it free.
Quel cried out and slumped, his eyes going dim. He died with his features twisted in disbelief.
Reklin flicked the blade, the energy burning the blood clean before he put it on his back. As he did, Visika joined him and looked at the body.
“You killed a Bloodwall,” she said, surprise, admiration, and a touch of irritation in her voice.
“He didn’t deserve the rank,” Reklin said.
Visika eyed the hole. “While I applaud your style, there’s no way even that many dets would breach this floor.”
“That’s what I told him,” Gellow said, pointing to Reklin as he appeared through the smoke.
The second Ro fighter strafed to the side and opened fire. Ion bolts as thick as Reklin’s arm streaked across the level, blasting into walls and supports. All three of them dropped to the floor, avoiding the shattering walls and pelting stone.
“We need an exit,” Visika shouted.
“We have one,” Reklin said. He crawled to the smoking crater in the kitchen, then picked up his pack from where he’d stashed it and put his feet in the hole.
Another Ro fighter appeared, and the ion bolts charged the air.
“I told you,” Gellow snapped, “there’s no way dets can breach a floor that thick—”
Reklin dropped from sight. He landed on a small pile of rubble on the lower floor and stepped out of the way. A moment later Visika followed, and then Gellow. Both stood and eyed Reklin, who shrugged.
“I knew there was a det embedded in the ceiling,” he said.
Gellow stared at him. “And dets close to each other automatically detonate in sequence. The blast would have pulled through the seracrete floor to create an opening.”
Visika chuckled in admiration. “Aren’t you just full of surprises?”
“I got us here.” Reklin wiped dust from his face. “But this floor’s Gate still connects to the base of the barracks tower, which is likely filled with dakorian soldiers at this point.”
“Leave the Gate to me,” she said.
She hurried to the Gate controls and accessed the system. Then she linked her personal holoview to the system on her ship, allowing a krey officer to hack into the system. Reklin went to the window and looked downward, where he spotted a pair of grav climbers beginning their ascent.
The Gravity Ascent Vehicles, or GAVs, looked like six-armed creatures, with a grav clamp attached to each arm. They were built to carry troops up buildings or mountains, even under fire.
Gellow joined him and spotted the large machines. “We don’t have the firepower to stop them,” he said.
Reklin nodded toward Visika, who was giving orders to the krey on her ship. “It will take them a few minutes to realize where we went. They’ll assume the floor could not be breached, just like you did.”
Gellow shook his head. “You know, that was one thing I always admired about you. No matter the impossible situation, you always came up with a tactic that got you and your team out.”
“Is that a compliment?”
“It’s a warning,” he said. “Visika is smarter th
an you are, and even after today, she will not hesitate to kill Mora—or you. This isn’t a situation you can escape. The Ghosts own you. You must understand that by now.”
Reklin turned to face him, the height disparity even more pronounced with Gellow hunched due to his injuries. Reklin seemed to tower over him, and a spark of fear actually touched Gellow’s eyes.
“I know you believe that,” he said, “but you and Visika cannot comprehend what you are up against. You, Visika, the krey, even the entire Empire, do not understand because humans are just slaves to you. You’re blind to your own demise.”
“And you think your eyes have been opened?” Gellow asked.
Reklin’s expression was one of pity. “When a human kills you, remember my warning.”
“No human can kill me,” he snarled.
“Just like an old dakorian can’t kill a Bloodwall?”
Visika called to them, and Reklin turned away. He crossed the room to the activated Gate. Following Visika through, he found himself in a different barracks tower. The room was mercifully empty, and when Gellow joined them, the trio hurried through to a Gate that connected to the ship.
The moment they were onboard, Visika ordered Gellow to take him back to Mora’s cell. Gellow didn’t speak as he guided Reklin through the ship’s corridors, and Reklin wondered if he’d pushed the doubt even deeper. When he’d shoved Gellow against the wall, he’d used the contact to touch on his memories, and noticed just a touch of doubt. Reklin considered if Gellow could be turned.
Chapter Twenty
Siena tightened the power converter in place and called to Begle, “That’s it, try it again.”
Begle, standing at the nearby controls of the starboard engineering bay, tapped the holos and managed to activate the connection between the gravity sphere and the ion drive. Light flowed through the converter and held, so Siena stepped off the gravity sphere and dropped to the deck.
She wiped dirt from her forehead, but that only smeared the grime. “How close are we?”
“I have no idea,” Begle said. “I haven’t exactly mastered krey engineering in just four days.”
“Just keep at it. I’m going to check on Kensen.”
She surveyed the starboard engineering room, pleased with their progress. All but one of the power converters had exploded, leaving blackened lines on the gravity sphere. They were lucky it hadn’t cracked, which would’ve caused the entire ship to implode. Conduits from the top of the drive disappeared into the superstructure of the ship, supplying power throughout the vessel.
Similar couplings extended from the base of the sphere, their conduits connecting directly to the ship’s hull. Energy flowed from the bottom to power the sphere, and out the top to power the ship. If they’d had the spare parts, repairing the ship would have been easy, but the Crescent had been set up as a display, and there were only a few token parts inside the engineering supply closet. They’d cobbled together good pieces from the port engines to replace the damaged ones in the starboard engines, an effort that appeared to be working.
Siena had a rudimentary understanding of krey technology, and Kensen knew a great deal about coding and substrates, but none knew how to repair a starship engine, let alone carry out the repairs needed throughout the ship. Fortunately, both Begle and Bort had shown an aptitude for engineering. Still, Tana and Rahnora had a bet going to see which brother would accidently blow up the ship.
Siena passed Bort on his way back from the holoview, and spotted Quis and Rahnora fabricating a piece of light to fix a blown conduit. Siena had yet to make light turn solid, but both of them could do it. They’d learned from earlier mistakes, and now their light looked like warm glass that could take any shape they wanted, including the side of an exploded power coupling.
“Well done,” she praised.
Quis beamed at Siena, and Rahnora smiled. “He’s the one that figured out how to make the light keep its shape for more than an hour.”
Quis flushed. “It’s not that hard. Giving light permanence is easier when it has something to bond to.”
“I still can’t do it,” Siena said. “Test that coupling and then get to work on the two in upper guest quarters. We can’t power up the engine without them.”
“On it,” Quis said.
Siena smiled as she watched the two work together to reengage the conduit. The white light beamed through it, a satisfying glow with no hint of crack in the patch. Siena wondered what Ero would think if he saw them using their augments to repair a stolen ship. He would probably wonder why they couldn’t keep their quarters clean.
She stepped over an interior panel and swerved to avoid another. They’d been forced to strip panels off to get to power conduits, control crystals, and seracrete supports from the port side of the ship, so tools and parts were strewn across the deck. Tana was lifting down a conduit as thick as her arm. Even with her gravity augment, it was heavy enough to throw her off balance, so Siena jumped in to help.
“Thanks,” Tana said.
“Let Bort know when you’ve gotten the next two down,” Siena said. “Then he can cut them for Begle to install.”
Kensen poked his head out of the holochamber. “Siena? You have a moment?”
A thrill made her heart thump at his rakish smile. Did he know what he did to her when he smiled that way? Probably. But that only made him do it more, and she wasn’t about to argue.
She hopped through the opening and leaned up to kiss him on the cheek. “What do you need?”
“Can you check this design?”
The spherical chamber was situated close to the cabin, and relied completely on gravity manipulation. Siena had found it disconcerting to walk out onto thin air, but the emitters were one of the few things that hadn’t been damaged in their escape. Kensen stood in the center, his eyes on a holo of the ship that showed the points of damage. Most had been caused when they’d fled the Mylttium system, but some had been done intentionally to access the pieces they needed to make a repair. There were now gaping holes in the interior.
“Take a look at this,” Kensen said, pointing to a blinking section next to the ion drive. “I’m not sure, but I think this means the ion catalyst reclaimer has been fused to the graviton collection housing?”
“You’re asking me?” She shook her head. “I don’t even know what those things are.”
Bort paused in the opening. “The ion catalyst reclaimer pulls excess ions that failed to bond with the—why are you looking at me like that?”
Siena and Kensen both burst into laughter and Bort turned away, muttering under his breath.
“It’s like he’s a secret genius,” Kensen marveled.
Siena had learned far more about krey engineering than she’d ever thought she would, but she was surprised to realize that it was fairly practical. At least the mechanical parts were easy to understand. She could barely comprehend what an ion was, let alone how a part reclaimed them, but she knew how to unmount and replace a section of broken material. While she and the others floundered, the two brothers seemed to have gained an intuitive grasp of the more complex functions of the engines.
She eyed the repairs. “How long until we can be moving again?”
“Another day, if we’re lucky.”
“Good.” Siena leaned up and kissed him. “It’s been weeks since Mora was taken from Rebor, and we need to hurry.”
“You have nothing to fear.”
She smiled and left. As she crossed the ship, she marveled that she could enjoy being stranded on a ship in deep space. But it wasn’t hard to figure out why. It was the first time she was totally alone with a group of humans.
As her team continued to repair the Crescent, it became obvious that she was not alone in her feelings. Begle and Bort became less and less gruff, and they even laughed a few times. Quis opened up, and more than once Siena spotted him using the unique gravity on the ship to play. Rahnora and Tana were often found together, even when they weren’t working, and when they paus
ed for a meal, their laughter and stories made everyone else smile. Siena had rarely seen true friends among slaves, because all knew they could be sold at any moment.
No change was more apparent than in Kensen. He smiled often, and although he worked hard, he also took time to work on the food synthesizer and produce more exotic meals. Over the next few days, as the ship gradually returned to flying strength, Siena privately imagined never going back.
Piece by piece, they cobbled together repairs, the hours blending into days of working and eating together. Covered in engine grease and wearing torn clothes, the group gathered for each dinner, and laughed in a way they never had. It was a taste of freedom that ended all too soon.
Nineteen days after stealing the Crescent, Siena gathered her friends on the bridge. She dropped into the pilot’s seat and Kensen took the copilot’s chair, activating the primary cortex. Flickering holos brightened across the control panel.
“The gravity drive is holding,” he said. “Sensors indicate the ion propulsion engine is at eighty percent.”
Siena took a steadying breath and then put her hands into the holo. She would have to test the ship manually before they could turn on the autopilot or the projection Gates. She’d learned to fly on the Nova, with Ero offering unhelpful suggestions. But she smiled at the memory as she gripped the holo.
A pulse of white energy came from the conical nozzle underneath the starboard wing, and the ship glided forward. She paused, but the sensors had no warnings, so she pushed them faster, and then faster. Even with one engine, the Crescent was graceful, and each turn was perfectly balanced. The others had been holding their breath, but as she brought them up to full speed, Quis released a shout.
“We didn’t explode!”
Siena grinned at Kensen. “No, we didn’t.”
Bort slapped his brother on the back. “You owe me a thousand glint.”