by Ben Hale
Reklin triggered the det explosives he’d fastened to the ceiling. They exploded in sequence, forming a ring directly beneath Dragorn’s chair. The enhanced charges ripped through three feet of stone and two layers of seracrete, drilling a ring of holes to the upper chamber. Then a single gravity sphere detonated in the center, imploding and turning the series of holes into one giant rent.
Reklin stepped back as the rubble collapsed, bringing Dragorn down in a plume of dust and fire. The krey slowed as he hit the gravity weave and came to a coughing halt. Reklin wasted no time in grabbing Dragorn’s shoulder.
“Move,” Reklin barked.
He shoved Dragorn out of the way and kicked a PEGG. The mech activated and lifted the rubble back into the hole, clogging the gap. Then Reklin picked Dragorn up by the back of his shirt and all but threw him towards the council room adjacent to the empty tribunal chamber.
“You were almost too late,” Dragorn coughed.
“It takes time to set up twenty enhanced dets on a ceiling without setting off the explosive alarms.” Reklin kicked the door open and pointed to the hole in the floor, cut by an excavating laser. “Two levels down there’s a set of clothes. Change and take the skimmer out of the Tribunal Hall. Meet me at the north entrance in six minutes. Do not leave the structure.”
“Where are you going?” Dragorn demanded.
“To give them someone to chase.”
He activated a special holo created by one of the Ghosts. A shimmering image coalesced into a passable image of Dragorn. It didn’t have the same tangibility of a real flesh-and-blood person, but it would fool anyone from a distance.
“Don’t be late,” Dragorn said, “or that little whelp you value will be dead.”
Reklin growled and slammed the door. Then he bolted for the main entrance and exited the chamber onto the ledge. Ranger skimmers rose into view. Veering to the side, Reklin sprinted to the edge and leapt the wide gap to the next ledge. The holo of Dragorn followed, barely making the gap and scrambling to its feet. Reklin plucked a hammer lance from a rack, and the dakorians exiting a different tribunal shouted in protest. He spun the weapon in his grip and fired over his shoulder, striking the side of a skimmer close to the engines.
It sputtered and fell away, smoke and sparks coming from the gravity drive. Another took its place and opened fire, its ion bolts streaking over and around Reklin. He fired twice more, knocking out another two engines. Dakorians jumped free as the skimmers dropped, landing on the ledge and accelerating after him.
Reklin jumped from ledge to ledge until he came to another empty tribunal chamber. There he stopped and reached behind a weapons rack. An attachment slid onto his arm, and he latched the mechanism as the two Rangers reached him.
“Stop!” one shouted. “You are in violation of—”
Without a word, Reklin turned, levered his feet over the ledge, and slid his body over the barrier. He dropped into open air, and the holo of Dragorn followed. Reklin raised his arm and pointed to a ledge lower down, the gravity leash sending a stream of focused graviton to latch onto the stone. His weight caught and he swung inward, alighting a hundred feet below the upper level. He landed in a sprint.
Shouts came from above as the Rangers struggled to adapt to his sudden redirect. Reports were still scrambling to come through, but Ranger officers could barely hear through the beamcast static pummeling the open network, courtesy of a Ghost hacking code. The confusion was Reklin’s salvation, and sent officers scrambling in every direction. He dropped off another ledge, using its bulk to hide his descent to a lower level. Momentarily out of sight, he ducked behind a ledge and extinguished the Dragorn holo. Then he quickly pulled a Ranger uniform from a hidden alcove in the stone and donned the outfit. Just as he finished, a pair of heavy steps alighted nearby. He pulled his energy sunderblade from the same alcove and whirled.
“Captain,” Worg greeted, his hammer in his hand.
“Lieutenant,” Reklin said, his eyes flicking to Teridon.
“The gravity leash was a nice touch.” Worg spun the hammer and drifted to the side. “So was the holo. The Rangers are lost, but we used that tactic on Raplen, remember?”
“I remember,” Reklin said.
“What are you doing?” Teridon abruptly snapped. “Why would you betray us?”
Reklin just shook his head and grimaced. To fight his own team was unthinkable, but he didn’t have time to explain the consequence if he failed to get Dragorn back in time. Or the price Mora would pay if he failed.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly, and then darted in.
Teridon had time to raise his hammer, using its shaft to block Reklin’s swing. But the move was just a feint to force Teridon to retreat. Worg, as expected, attacked his flank, swinging for Reklin’s knee. A disabling blow.
Reklin jumped over the swinging hammer, his body twisting and uncoiling, his sunderblade reaching out. Worg ducked to avoid the weapon, which dropped his head into Reklin’s second attack. The gravity leash caught Worg on the horns and pulled him forward. He stumbled, and Reklin brought his knee up into Worg’s face. Worg recoiled, dazed.
Teridon swung at Reklin’s back, but Reklin leaned forward, allowing the weapon to pass over his back. Reklin twisted up and inside Teridon’s guard, striking his sergeant in the jaw. Teridon rocked back, and again Reklin used the gravity leash, catching him and pulling him in for a second blow. This time Teridon went down.
“I’m sorry,” Reklin repeated as he sheathed the sunderblade on his back and surveyed the two groaning dakorians. “I’m not letting Mora die.”
“Reklin,” Worg said, sitting up and wiping blood from his face, “don’t do this. We can help.”
“Then you’d just be caught in Visika’s web,” Reklin said.
He turned and stepped onto a skimmer. It looked like a Ranger craft, with blue lines and a white hull, but it had been bought at auction some years ago and was an older model. It had been repaired by Visika’s technicians and looked nearly identical to the real thing. As skimmers sped around the inside of the pyramid like angry insects, Reklin dropped into the mess and curved to the side, pretending to search a lower segment of balconies as he swung lower and lower. Mentally, he counted down the seconds and tried to suppress the burgeoning regret.
The skimmer turned lower and lower, blending with the hundreds of other Ranger craft bursting through all four entrances to the Tribunal Hall. For now they would be looking for him and Dragorn, and it would take precious minutes for them to clear the beamcast channels and realize he was alone and dressed as a Ranger. He tried to avoid thinking of all the laws he was breaking, or wondering if his team would forgive him.
He reached the base of the pyramid and banked above the crashing surf. The skimmer kicked water in its wake as he sped north, and a moment later he spotted Dragorn sitting in his own skimmer. Reklin slowed and motioned him to jump over. Just as the krey landed in his craft, a distinct warning tone began to rise, growing into a deafening wail that spread outside the Tribunal Hall and throughout the city, spilling into the streets, buildings, and even starships. Everywhere the sound touched, the Gate network was shut down.
“They’re killing the Gates,” Dragorn growled. “We’re too late.”
“We’re right on time.” Reklin guided his skimmer between the two krey statues and into the water. Then he sped out to open sea.
“Just how do we get off planet without a Gate?” he demanded. “Even the inner-city portals will be shut down.”
“You’re the Head of a House,” Reklin snapped with uncharacteristic anger. “The Ranger Corps would have enacted the Fugitive Protocol within minutes of your escape—and there’s no way we could have reached a Gate in that time. I have another exit planned.”
“And what’s that?”
Reklin picked up a needle from his pouch. “Take a deep breath.”
He looked indignant. “You’re not sticking that thing in my—”
Reklin jammed the needle into his arm,
and had the satisfaction of seeing Dragorn’s eyes roll back into his head. Dragorn fell to the deck of the skimmer as the hyperoxygenation molecules expanded throughout his bloodstream. Then Reklin set the ship to autopilot in a different direction, erased the logs for their passage, and slapped a seal over the unconscious krey’s mouth. The flexible material bonded to his cheeks and chin, preventing him from breathing. Without hesitation, he picked Dragorn up and jumped over the side.
He hit the water hard, his body momentarily sinking before he swam to the surface to check on his companion. The seal on Dragorn’s face was intact, preventing the unconscious krey from breathing. The hyperoxygenation molecules in his bloodstream would keep him alive for several minutes. It was all the time he needed. He attached the krey to the gravity leash and then ducked underwater, swimming straight down. The water was a clear, crystal blue, but a storm offshore lifted the waves into ten-foot swells. He struggled against the pull of the ocean as he followed the blinking arrow on his holoview into the depths.
Reklin!
He instinctively spun, but the voice had come in his own head. Siena?
The prospect of seeing Siena sent a burst of excitement into his veins. She was here? Had she gotten his distress beamcast?
I got your message and traced it here, she said. I can’t tell you how good it is to find you.
Where are you? Reklin squinted into the water.
Half a mile west of your position, she said. Where’s Mora?
On the Midnight Star, he said. He checked his holoview and grimaced. He didn’t have time to wait. I have to go.
What are you doing? she called.
Reklin resumed swimming downward, the pressure on his lungs gradually building. Dakorians could hold their breath for up to eight minutes, but Shard team members were trained to go longer. This time Reklin would push his own capacity to the limit.
I have to get Dragorn back to Mora, Reklin replied.
I’m almost to you, she said. I can help.
Reklin hesitated, but checked the timer on his holoview. I can’t wait, he replied. In nine minutes, the det attached to Mora’s heart will explode unless Dragorn’s genetic code is input into the cortex.
He dredged up the memory of Mora sitting in the chair in a dark chamber, her eyes defiant even as they attached the det to a harness around her small body. Reklin had fought his bonds and growled at Visika.
“I took her with me,” he’d snarled. “You can’t punish her for what I did.”
“But I can,” she’d replied, “and I will.” She thumbed the activation switch, then stepped in until her gaze was inches from Reklin’s. “Her life is now in your hands. Only Dragorn’s genetic code will disarm it. Get him here—alive—and you can save her life.”
Visika motioned the soldiers to release him. As the shackles fell away, he stood in place, trembling with the desire to attack. But the sight of Mora held him bound. Visika smiled and pointed to the holo of the Tribunal Hall.
“You said our plan won’t work. Tell me why. And tell me how to fix it.”
“I don’t know how,” Reklin said.
“Then in two hours Mora will die,” Visika said. “Now figure it out…”
Reklin severed the memory as angry tears leaked from his eyes and were swept away in the ocean. He hadn’t cried since he was a whelp, and yet the helplessness was worse than a spine clamp turned up to ten. He poured the rage into motion, dragging the unconscious Dragorn deeper.
I can help, she called, even more urgent than before.
I’m sorry, Siena. Mora is just a whelp. I can’t let her die.
Reklin severed the mental link and swam harder, driving himself deeper. His exoskeleton offered protection from the mounting pressure, but the soft places and tissues between the bones began to compress. He grimaced, descending until the light grew dim and large shapes flitted in the darkness.
He kept a sharp eye on the shapes. Tacoda sharks were native to the planet and lurked in the depths. At sixty feet long, they were known to swallow dakorians whole. He’d scanned the area before entering the pyramid, but the creatures occasionally did not appear on scans, as a former military friend could attest. Or he would have, if they’d found the rest of his body.
One shape gradually solidified in view. Fifty feet in length, flat across the back, dorsal fin on the top, and a row of black eyes along the head. Its mouth was partially open, revealing teeth the size of dakorian horns. The jagged black stripes marked it as a tacoda shark. But this one was not a real shark. It was a ship designed to resemble the underwater predator. It banked to the side and Reklin swam to the airlock.
A hatch opened in the military-grade stealth ship, gliding open and permitting him inside. The lack of oxygen made his head throb and his vision swirl, but he slammed a fist onto the controls and the door shut behind Dragorn. The moment the iris closed, the water was drained into embedded tubes, and air pumped into the space.
Reklin fell to his knees, coughing and spitting. He sucked in lungfuls of air. As the last of the water siphoned off, the interior hatch opened and Gellow looked down on him.
“You’re cutting it rather close,” he said.
Reklin stood and shoved past him. “Take care of Dragorn. Keep him alive.”
He stumbled down the interior corridor and ducked into the cockpit. The tacoda series of stealth ships had been developed hundreds of years ago, and outlasted newer models because it remained one of the best stealth vessels ever developed by the military.
This particular one was a Class T7, built to model the movement of the shark for which it was named. Its skin was synthetic flesh overlayed on reinforced seracrete. It had no signals and only a sub-cortex for minimal operations. With a single corridor down the center, and several small compartments to either side, the ship had no weapons. What it lacked in armament it made up for in stealth capabilities. Even with the whole of the Ranger Corps searching for them, they were more likely to be caught by a hunting party mistaking them for a real shark.
As Ranger ships flooded the streets and millions of krey demanded answers, Reklin brought up the gravity funnels and the small tubes opened on the bow. The water was pulled in and compressed before passing through funnels and ejecting out the back. The tail of the ship bent left and right, the lazy motion of a predator on the hunt. They slipped out of the furious net, and Reklin clenched the controls, angry at Visika, at Dragorn, and at himself. He’d betrayed his team and friends. They deserved better.
He didn’t notice the faint flutter on the surface sensors. The blip was gone almost as soon as it appeared, but even if he’d seen it, he would have assumed it was just a fish or some sort of debris. He would have been wrong.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
As the tacoda stealth ship moved out to sea, Siena was still fifty feet behind, swimming for all she was worth. She used her gravity augment, but it couldn’t pull her through the water fast enough, and the ship continued to accelerate. Desperate, she warped the water and the current caught her in its grip. It shoved her about like a leaf in a whirlwind, and it was all she could do to keep breathing. She tried again, and again. She refused to fail Reklin again.
She took a deep breath through her augment and released every augment. Then she grimly focused on the disappearing tacoda ship and gradually pulled the water to her limbs. The pressure built by degrees, accelerating her forward. She wobbled, but kept her focus, driving the liquid to warp around her and keep her stable.
Unlike gravity, which was naturally stable, water seemed to want to move and bend. The molecules aligned according to her desires, but that was not enough. She had to direct the water into a linear flow that did not run counter to the general current. Seconds passed, and the need for air mounted. But she could not move and breathe at the same time, so she clenched her jaw and pushed the water faster. More and more of the molecules aligned around her, and she found she could shape them around her legs and feet like a starship’s ion repulsor. She moved her arms to the sides
and back, reducing the drag and accelerating a few degrees. The stealth ship seemed to slow, bringing Siena closer. Her heart pounded in her chest as she pushed with all her might, closing the gap inches at a time.
The rear fin drew closer and closer, and Siena knew that if she released the augment to breathe, she would never catch up. She lunged forward, her hand closing on the smooth surface of the fin. It whisked her to the side, and her fingers slid off.
Her stomach heaved, her body automatically wanting to open her mouth and breathe. She tried again, and this time warped the gravity on her fingertips. The fin passed in front of her and she caught the edge.
Her grip held.
She was dragged to the side, the swirling water on her feet going another direction. She released the current and reactivated the water filtration trick Rahnora had taught her. Oxygen flowed into her mouth and lungs, and for several minutes she just clung to the swaying fin of the ship, gasping for breath. When her heart rate finally slowed, she resolved to thank Rahnora for saving her life.
The tacoda followed the gradually deepening sea shelf, and the pressure on Siena‘s body mounted. Even with her augments, she would not be able to survive. Nor could she make it back to the surface, not from this depth. She needed to get inside.
She warped the gravity across her body and gradually pulled her way up the underside of the ship. Her body was stuck against the synthetic material, but it was too dark to see clearly. She closed her eyes and followed by feel until she felt a burst of warm water. Hoping to find a way in, she followed it to a place under the right fin, where water was funneled through a tube. It was big enough for her body, but the volume and force was too great to overcome. She sensed a funnel-shaped weave of gravity controlled by a cortex about ten feet up the tube, so she mentally reached out and twisted the harness. The flow of water quickly tapered off, and she pulled herself into the tube. Clawing her way into the darkness, she felt along the upper side for a way into the vessel. The pressure and absence of light was disorienting, and her mind spun. Water began to trickle through her augment into her mouth, tasting like oil.