by Kelly Gay
Niko nearly collided with a vendor coming out of a storeroom door, spun on his feet, and tripped, but caught himself, managing to hold on to Rion’s duffel bag, and kept going. “No it’s not! Back then, I was in shape!”
With a bag on his back and one in his grasp, he had a harder time of it than Lessa, but despite that handicap, they were still fast and had a ton of experience losing a tail in a backwater place like this. Everything in Port Joy was squished together in a haphazard maze. There were alleys and streets and tunnels—a thousand places to hide.
Heart pounding, Less cast a quick look Niko’s way and laughed, then slid to a stop when a trio of Kig-Yar pirates appeared at the other end of the alley. Thinking on her feet, she saw a narrow passage between buildings up ahead and ran for it, Niko at her back.
She led them through the passage and then along a series of small pedestrian lanes until sliding out into a narrow street. Every turn, every duck under vendor tables or leap over obstacles, sent them one step closer to the Ace of Spades. Less had a great sense of direction, and no matter where they were forced to turn, she always put them back on a southerly track.
“Here, toss it to me!” she yelled, seeing Niko growing tired with the burden of the extra bag.
He shook his head and kept going.
Typical.
When had it become a contest between them? When had he begun refusing her help in all things?
She ignored her inner voice and darted a quick glance over her shoulder. The ONI spooks were gone, but they’d now picked up a group of mercs after the bounty on their heads. She could see the cliffs in the distance and the top of the bridge that would lead them safely into the hills. Not much farther to go.
As she ran, weaving through the crowd, hearing shots in the distance, she realized she knew the answer to her question—had known it for a while now. Niko wasn’t a kid anymore, and he didn’t need her to take care of him.
It wasn’t easy to admit. It was even harder to let go. . . .
And, maybe, just maybe, yeah, she’d made him feel guilty one too many times. . . . It wasn’t on purpose; he just never seemed to understand or show any sort of appreciation for her efforts and sacrifices. In fact, he avoided acknowledging them altogether.
Up ahead, she could see the road to the bridge through a haze of dust. But in their path was another large group of ONI operatives guarding the way in and out of Port Joy, and causing a terrible commotion in front of the bridge because of it. Damn it.
“Niko!” she yelled, looking for an alternate route, and finding it in a two-story stone building with an exterior ladder to the roof. She veered off into the alley and headed for the ladder.
“You first,” she said, taking hold of the bag he carried. “I’ve got some strength left, you’re wearing down. No time to argue. Go!”
He shook his head and tossed her the bag before climbing the ladder.
Before Less could join him, she caught sight of the Jackals searching the street beyond the alley. She whistled to Niko and he paused, halfway up. She motioned to the street. They hadn’t been seen yet, but she couldn’t chance her own turn up the ladder. “Get to the bridge.”
They already knew the plan. Because the mesa was so crowded, the houses and buildings had been built to butt right up to the very edges of the cliff and to the very corner supports of the bridge. They intended to use the cover of the tightly packed structures to make their way to the bridge’s support beams, and make their way under the bridge instead of across its surface.
They didn’t need an extraction just yet. Exposing Ace or Spark was a last resort.
“Come on! There’s time!” Niko shouted down to her.
She shook her head, motioned for him to go, and then took off, heading right into the street and blazing a very obvious trail in front of the Jackals, luring them away from Niko’s position.
Yeah. Just like old times, and habits sure did die hard.
Niko was probably rolling his eyes even now.
Lessa might be petite, but that belied her scrappiness. She was light on her feet and fast as hell, and most everyone who came in contact with her underestimated her.
She grabbed a support pole across the intersection and swung around, nearly colliding with a tough-looking group of humans and what was clearly a rogue Sangheili—a quick scan told her they were possibly of the smuggler or salvager ilk. “Whoa, watch where you’re going, girl!” one of them said.
Out of breath, she turned on the charm, eyes going wide and frightened. “Please, help me! The Jackals—they’re trying to sell me. . . .”
One of the men grabbed her by both arms and bent down with a dark scowl. “Sell you, to who?!”
Just then the Kig-Yar crossed the intersection, their beaks hanging open, beady round eyes lit with excitement. “Please,” Lessa begged. “I don’t want to be Jackal food!”
The man cursed and shoved Lessa behind him as the Sangheili accompanying them stepped forward and crouched down, roaring at the Jackals, ready for a fight. Less was passed farther and farther back into the group until she came out behind them. She didn’t stay to see what happened next, but wished them well as she hightailed it down a side road, another alley, and then a pedestrian walkway between houses that led right up to the cliffs near the bridge.
Niko would have come down beside the bridge by now on the other side of the road. Lessa climbed over the walkway’s safety railing and then down a flight of steps that led to a lower-level balcony of a private home. She kept a low profile as she hurried across the balcony and then scrambled over its railing to access the bridge’s east corner.
Sliding down a meter of rocky cliff to the support beam, she hit the thing pretty hard, but managed to keep hold of Rion’s bag as she paused there to catch her breath. Once she was ready, she moved around the V-shaped support and then found a good footing to access the long beams that ran beneath the bridge. She caught sight of Niko then, standing on the parallel beam beneath the roadway, one hand lifted in a wave.
She waved back, and together they began jogging along the beams toward the other side.
Less made it a few meters before needler fire from the mesa behind her hit one of the supports above her. She ducked, her balance shifting, causing one foot to slip off the beam.
Oh no.
Lessa held her breath as she fell forward, her knee hitting hard. As she fell sideways, she pushed Rion’s bag ahead of her to keep it safe, then scrambled to grab hold of the beam.
She heard Niko’s scream over the pounding of her heart as she held on, the bag on her back weighing her down. “Niko!”
She saw him out of the corner of her eye as he ran ahead to the next crossbeam, hurried across, then back down on her side. Once there, he set his bag down, straddled the beam, and grabbed her forearms. “I’ve got you. I won’t let you fall.”
He tried to pull her up without losing his balance, but only managed to get Lessa up enough for her to reach across the beam and hold on to the other side.
She had to remind herself to breathe, to settle down, to remember she’d been in rougher spots than this.
“Just hold on,” he told her. “Help will be here soon.”
The Kig-Yar were just making their way to the lower beam supports. “No, you need to go. It’s too dangerous.” Below them, several dust clouds revealed ships lifting off from the lake bed.
“Don’t care. I’m not letting go. I can’t.” He looked her right in the eye, and she saw something surprising, something she hadn’t seen in a long time. “You won’t fall, Less. But if you did, I’d dive right after you. I know that’s what you’ve done for me my whole life. I get it, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I couldn’t help you. I was . . . embarrassed—”
Leave it to her brother to do this now. She laughed and readjusted her hold. “Embarrassed, why?”
“Because I couldn’t take care of myself.”
“You were a child. You weren’t supposed to.”
“Neither were you.
”
And, man, that hurt to hear, because he was right. She’d had to grow up. From the age of five, when they were dumped at the shelter, she’d begun taking on the responsibility of looking out for, protecting, and caring for her brother.
And now he understood.
“Well, you’re not a little kid anymore,” she said, eyes stinging. “You can take care of yourself just fine.” She thought that might hurt, saying it out loud, but what she felt most of all was pride and relief.
He laughed. “Well, you might be wrong about that. I’m not like you; most of the time I have my head in the clouds or my nose in my work. I’m a stubborn ass, I know, but I still need you, Less. We work best together, isn’t that what you always told me?”
Her throat felt thick, too thick to respond. Their combined strength was waning. Her arms burned, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to hold on for much longer. And the Kig-Yar were advancing.
“I’m sorry about the things I said. . . .” he told her.
“I know. It’s okay.”
Shots rang out over the bridge and a familiar whirring sound echoed, bouncing off the metal all around them. Relief filled her and she held on with everything she had. “God, I love that sound,” she managed, recognizing Ace’s familiar engines as the black bird rose from beneath them, Ram in the cockpit as he maneuvered the thrusters to turn the ship 180 degrees.
The cargo ramp lowered, revealing Spark standing there, legs braced. As soon as there was enough room, he stomped out to the very end of the ramp and bent to one knee while Ram held the ship steady.
Spark reached over the support beam and grabbed the back of Lessa’s neck with one hand and the bag on her back with the other, hauling her up and over Niko. She let out a yelp of fear at dangling in mid-air before Spark tossed her into the ship.
Then he seized Niko under his armpits and lifted.
“This is no place to loiter,” Spark said, bringing him aboard, then retrieving the two bags. “The odds of you making it across the bridge were very slim. I do not understand why you did not call for extraction sooner. . . .” As the ramp closed, the lecture continued.
Ace rose into the sky, taking ground fire as she went. Less stood on shaky legs and headed for the bridge. Before entering, she hung back, waiting for Niko to catch up.
“What?” he asked, out of breath, pale, sweaty, with dirt streaked across his face.
God, she loved him. She threw her arms around his neck and squeezed tight even though every muscle ached. He hugged her right back.
“Less,” he said in a muffled tone, “thank you for saving me, time and time again.”
“I think you’re the hero of the day this time, little brother. Thanks for saving my ass out there.”
When she eased back, she saw he was grinning like a big idiot, incredibly pleased with himself. “And I will never let you live it down.”
She laughed. “Oh, I know you won’t.”
CHAPTER 35
* * *
UNSC Taurokado, Binterall airspace
“Captain,” Turk said, “we have the Ace of Spades in sight.”
“It’s about time,” Karah growled, both hands on the tactical table, lips drawn into a tight line. They’d been scouring the surface of Binterall for the vessel for an entire day and hadn’t found a thing. Even the Bad Moon Rising, which had joined them twelve hours ago for the trade, had come up empty-handed. Karah was almost certain the crew of that salvage ship had somehow gotten their hands on some very sophisticated—and no doubt highly illegal—cloaking technology.
Through the open comm channel with the team on the surface, Agent Hahn’s voice sounded over the chaos of the skirmish currently under way in Port Joy. “Fire on that ship, Captain!”
“There are kids on that ship.” Novak’s voice cut into the feed, between muffled grunts and weapons fire. “Civilians.”
“Salvagers, Novak,” Hahn shot back. “Criminals.”
“It’s not”—a scream pierced through Novak’s comms, sounding like a Kig-Yar—“a death sentence to illegally salvage, or to lie to ONI.”
“They are in direct violation of the Salvage Directive!”
“And we got our salvage!”
“Gentlemen! Enough!” Karah barked. The Ace of Spades was gaining altitude. If it reached space and jumped, they’d lose it again.
Bad Moon Rising arrived and settled in behind the Ace of Spades. They had nowhere to go, and yet they weren’t stopping or answering the hails. Karah had made some tough choices in her time, but she was with Novak—she had no desire to fire on a wounded crew and a couple of kids. She’d do it if she had to—but experience had taught her there was usually another way.
“Turk, send a warning across their bow.”
CHAPTER 36
* * *
Ace of Spades bridge, Binterall airspace
“It’s the Taurokado. They found us,” Lessa said, out of breath and sweating and covered in dust from her run through Port Joy. The warning shot had just missed Ace’s bow as they took off from the surface.
“Where the hell is Rion?” Niko asked.
“She’s in the med bay with Spark,” Ram said over his shoulder.
Dread sliced through Lessa’s heart. She froze, unsure whether to stay and help Ram get them out of this bind or run to the med bay. In her hesitation, Spark’s avatar appeared over the holotable.
“What should we do?” Lessa asked.
“We should sit down and get Ace out of this mess,” Ram said in an even tone, “and then we’ll talk about Rion.”
Ram swung the ship around, putting the Taurokado ten degrees off their bow. “They’re hailing us,” Niko said.
“Ignore it. Don’t engage,” Ram said calmly, then looked over his shoulder. “Spark, I think it’s time to show us what your upgrades can do and get us the hell out of here.”
“Gladly.”
CHAPTER 37
* * *
UNSC Taurokado, Binterall airspace
As the Ace of Spades came about, Captain Karah admired the sleek design of the smaller ship and the incredible audacity of its crew. Novak was right. Defying the UNSC Salvage Directive was not a violation punishable by death. But they did need to secure that ship. “Turk, fire anoth—”
And right in front of her eyes, the ship streaked away at phenomenal speed and dove into a portal that hadn’t been there a second ago.
“Turk . . . ? Report.”
“They’re . . . gone, Captain. Nothing on the sensors.”
Agent Hahn’s angry curse pierced through the comms.
CHAPTER 38
* * *
My armiger is in the cargo hold while my avatar hovers above the systems panel in the med bay. The crew has gathered around Captain Forge’s bedside. They have inclined her, careful of the monitors and fluids attached to her skin and veins. She is pale, yellowish-blue circles beneath her eyes, her cheekbones pronounced, and her lips lacking much color.
Still, she is alive.
I am relieved.
She is attempting to smile for their benefit.
Niko is shaking his head, anxiously gnawing on a fingernail as Rion recounts how she was injured. Lessa holds one of her hands while Ram stands at the foot of her bed. They are traumatized to see her in such a state, and amazed at her luck.
It strikes me, this word. Luck.
What is luck? A random set of occurrences leading to good fortune? A force unseen, but there nonetheless, driving certain individuals to success or guiding them toward their destiny? Or perhaps it is a genetic gift passed down through generations, touching those in ways that suggest a higher presence at work?
Whatever it is, Rion Forge appears to have it.
They laugh, recount the events at Port Joy, but I barely listen. I am lost in my own thoughts until their silence reaches me. They are staring at me. Waiting.
“I hear I have you to thank,” Rion says to me.
“You do not remember?”
She swallows.
She is already growing weak. “I remember floating. Then looking over your shoulder at the market . . .”
“You barfed all over his back,” Niko tells her, glancing at me. “When he brought you on the ship.” Niko tries to make light of it, but as he continues his words are clipped with emotion. “Then you went into hypovolemic shock, heart nearly stopped . . . The needle entered just beneath your clavicle, then blew a hole out the back of your shoulder blade. . . . You almost died.”
No one speaks for a long while after that.
Finally Ram steps to the medical counter and pours a round of drinks. He hands one to Rion, a small sip while the others are full. She lifts her brow.
“I gave up smoking, not drinking. Besides, every near-death deserves a toast. You didn’t die, and we escaped with the goods.” He grins. “I call that a good run, don’t you?”
A rough laugh escapes her. “Yeah. Good enough.”
Niko is conflicted. He wants to be happy, but he is angry too. They all feel this way; some are just better at hiding it than others. Lessa watches her brother struggle and reaches across Rion and clinks her glass to his. She gives him a supporting nod. He relaxes and downs his drink.
“Once this gets out, I think you’re well and truly on your way to becoming a legend,” Ram tells Rion, keeping the mood light for her benefit.
“I doubt that,” she says.
“I mean it. What happened in Port Joy will be heard about far and wide. There aren’t very many civvies out there who can say they faced ONI, the Spartans, and ex-Covenant all at the same time and escaped.”
“They took it easy on us. We were assets they had to keep undamaged. Can’t interrogate a dead person. They won’t underestimate us again.”
And she is right.
“But we did pull it off, though,” she tells them, and glances at me. “Here’s to our ace in the sleeve.” She lifts her glass. “To . . . Spark.”
