Rebel Tribe (Osprey Chronicles Book 1)

by Ramy Vance

  Virgil was correct. Virgil, human or not, was a member of her crew. She had failed to appreciate the sacrifices and limits of her crew. The magnitude of that failure laid out plainly in the AI’s quiet accusation threatened to open up and swallow her whole.

  She hated herself for what she was about to do.

  “That’s fair enough.” She started hauling herself toward No-A once more, though her arms had turned to jelly. “But you said it yourself, Virgil. I’m still the captain of this boat, and I have to try to salvage what I can. I am ordering you to cooperate.”

  “I expected no less, Captain.”

  “Good.” She swallowed a dry lump. “I’ll get you out of this, I promise. Just tell me everything you know about Sphynx and what he’s doing.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  The No-A doors slid open. One lonely figure, tiny in her silver flight suit, stepped out of the hell-black corridor and into the cathedral.

  Jaeger reached up to deactivate her thermal vision. She saw sparks as the chamber surged into view around her and her eyes adjusted to the harsh fluorescent lights. When she saw what drifted before her, a tiny moan escaped her lips.

  A cloud of blood and twisted flesh drifted at the center of the cathedral, untethered by gravity. Occy looked so big for such a small person, cradled at the center of his shredded tentacles. Chunks of rubbery flesh, splattered with blood and dangling with half-torn suckers, drifted like dust motes. Tiny, viciously sharp scraps of shrapnel shimmered like diamonds in the cloud of gore. Small clouds of them stuck to Jaeger’s flight suit and bit into her skin as she walked into the heart of No-A.

  “How are you people getting in?” The arched ceiling caught Sphynx’s soft voice and amplified it into a thousand echoing hisses. Above the dais at the far end of the chamber, he turned from his control console, pupils narrowing to slits as he studied her. “I am sure I sealed those doors.”

  Jaeger forced herself to look away from Occy’s sightless face as she walked toward the dais, hands open and empty in front of her.

  “All of the ship’s systems are fucked up.” She kept her tone soft and pleasant. “Locks, security, everything. This…this new program you’re running, it’s a mess. You have to stop the upload.”

  “I must do no such thing.” Sphynx held up one freakishly long, needle-tipped finger. “That’s close enough.”

  Jaeger stopped. She studied the holo-screen behind Sphynx. Lines of uploading code, interspersed with diagrams of weapon schematics. She heard the distant humming of the No-A synthesizer—not the piddly little food-box they’d been using to make pizza, but the industrial war machine—as it constructed some unknown horror. “Why are you doing this?” she asked.

  “My superior officers are not fit for duty,” the cat said simply. “They have placed their goals above the mission.”

  “The mission.” Jaeger bit her lip and glanced over her shoulder at the mass of brutalized flesh. “Was he a superior officer, too?” Her voice turned sad. “He was only a kid. Was he a danger to your precious mission?”

  “In fact, he was.” Sphynx followed her gaze and let out a self-satisfied sigh. “Do you like it? I’ve always wanted to try the flechette pistols. Imagine ripping someone apart with your bare hands from across the room.” He shivered. “Thrilling. Granted, probably not sufficient to handle one of your pets, but it will work just fine for you.”

  Occy twitched. Jaeger bit her lip to keep herself from crying out and forced herself still. Had it only been a trick of the light? Or had the tip of one of those tentacles flexed into a tiny, tiny club, then relaxed?

  Her gaze flew to Occy’s face, and she dared believe she saw the faintest flutter of long eyelashes. Not dead. Perhaps he was not dead—just badly injured.

  There was nothing she could do for him right now.

  Jaeger forced herself to face her rogue crewman. A long-barreled flechette pistol had appeared in his hands.

  “Okay.” She lowered her voice. “You have the power here. That’s obvious. I don’t want to fight.”

  “It’s not going to be much of a fight.”

  Jaeger nodded ever so faintly in concession. “Yeah. But think about it. You’ve seen our combat simulations. Even if you take over the ship all by yourself, you can’t pilot the ship through combat alone. If you want to get past the saucers and through the wormhole, you’re going to need a cooperative crew.”

  Sphynx’s ears twitched. “One loyal crew, coming right up.” He patted the activation tank beside him fondly. “I managed to replicate the download error my tank experienced. My companions will understand the gravity of our situation. They will appreciate the…primacy…of the mission.”

  “The mission.” Jaeger’s mouth quirked into a bitter smile. She nodded at the orbital microwave cannon design on the screen behind him. “Crusade. Genocide. That’s your mission, isn’t it?”

  “To ensure the survival of the human race.”

  “Sphynx,” she said gently, taking another step forward.

  Sphynx lifted his gun. She froze. Then she shook her head. “Sphynx. Look at you. You’re not human. You were designed from the ground up, hacked out of spare parts. You’re a genetic mess. The people who did that? They don’t care about you. They built you to be a monster. You’re only a tool to them. Disposable.” She drew in a deep breath. “So why should you give two shits about their survival?”

  Sphynx’s ears twitched. She thought she saw the tiniest dilation of his inhuman pupils, and for a second, one split heartbeat, she thought she might have gotten through to him.

  Then Sphynx smiled. It was a terrible, twisted expression, forced across a cat’s stoic muzzle. It didn’t belong anywhere except in a nightmare.

  “Jaeger,” he purred. “You misunderstand. I don’t care about humankind. But they have such wonderful toys. I’ll be honest, all I really want is the chance to try them all out.”

  Then, as if on cue, the massive fabricator tucked into the back wall of No-A ceased its grinding, whirring noises.

  It dinged.

  Sphynx’s smile widened. “Popcorn’s ready,” he whispered. He tilted his body, pushing himself slowly toward the fabricator grotto, his flechette pistol leveled at Jaeger.

  “Now, you have two choices. You can stay exactly where you are and let me test the new sonic rifle design. Or you can make trouble, and we’ll play a little game of cat-and-mouse. I’d tell you which of the choices I wish you’d pick, but I think that would take away some of the fun. At any rate, I’m sure you can guess.”

  Jaeger hardly dared to breathe.

  Sphynx took that for an answer. He lowered his pistol and turned sideways to reach into the stacks. The industrial fabricator door was barely out of Jaeger’s line of sight, and he backed toward it, his unblinking stare fixed on her as he reached behind him—

  Jaeger risked one glance to the third balcony. No movement. Where was Toner? Was he in position?

  Sphynx’s profile went rigid in the corner of her vision, snapping Jaeger’s attention back to the fabricator grotto. Sphynx re-emerged from behind the stack, his hands up and open and empty, his body board-stiff as he drifted.

  The incongruous thunk of activating mag soles echoed around the chamber.

  A tall, broad-shouldered man, a brick shit house in a skin-tight black shirt that displayed every one of his rippling muscles, stepped out of the shadows behind Sphynx.

  The stranger pressed the barrel of a matte-black sonic rifle against Sphynx’s misshapen skull. “Easy, kitty,” the man growled. “You’re kind of a nutjob, aren’t you?”

  Chapter Forty

  “Who the hell are you?” Sphynx snarled.

  The soldier stepped forward, his mag soles thunking against the floor. He took one step up the dais steps, pushing Sphynx ahead of him with the barrel of the sonic rifle. Quick as a snake, he reached forward, pulled the flechette pistol out of Sphynx’s holster, and secured it on his belt before re-steadying his rifle.

  “Seeker, Alpha-J-3,�
�� the man barked. “Under the authority of the Tribe Council, I am taking control of this vessel.” He shoved, sending Sphynx drifting several meters into the air—too far away for the cat to try to spin and grab the barrel of the rifle. “If you twitch one whisker I will turn your brains into jelly. I think you know very damn well what this gun can do.”

  Jaeger’s heart thudded in her throat. “You have contact with the other side?” she called, voice tight with giddiness and anxiety. “How? Where?”

  The man—the Seeker—risked one glance in her direction. He grunted a non-answer. “You stay put and shut up, Jaeger.”

  She swallowed, her brief flutter of hope dying. This man might not be Sphynx’s friend, but he wasn’t hers, either. Worse, he knew things about her.

  This put a dent in her plans.

  Seeker reached the dais control console, and never taking his sight from Sphynx, squatted. He rooted around in the computer guts. “You’ve already let this ship go too far to hell,” he told her. There was the sound of snapping wires as Seeker ripped a slender hard drive out of the cabinet. He flung it to the side and straightened.

  The captain’s log drifted, an inert and helpless chunk of metal. Overhead, the massive display screen abruptly deactivated. In the distance, something clicked. The industrious hum of the activation pods fell deathly silent. All of their lights flashed red. Activation aborted.

  “I really hope you didn’t fuck up the ship’s computer beyond repair,” Seeker said to Sphynx. “I sure as shit know we don’t need any more mad hatters like you running around.”

  Sphynx let out an outraged yowl. “I’ll carve your eyes out of your skull,” he screamed. “I’ll rip out your balls and make you eat them. I’ll—” He abruptly fell silent as Seeker took the rifle in both hands and lifted it to his face. His inhuman visage stilled, pupils shrinking to slits.

  Jaeger took one painfully slow step backward, gingerly nudging Occy’s floating body toward the stacks.

  She wasn’t going to try to save Sphynx from this Seeker man, but on the other hand, she had no wish to see a sonic rifle in action.

  As Seeker’s finger tightened around the trigger, the speakers dotting the No-A cathedral activated simultaneously, filling the air with the clash of cymbals and blare of tubas.

  Seeker and Sphynx both twitched, cringing forward to protect themselves from the sudden cacophony.

  It meant they weren’t looking upward when Toner hurled himself from the second-floor balcony. His mag soles flared to life, and he zipped through the cathedral in a blur of motion, threading the needle between Seeker and Sphynx.

  Seeker yelled, thrashing, as Toner flew past and ripped the rifle from his arms. Sphynx stole the slim second to double over and activate his mag soles. With one elegant twist, the catman was soaring after Toner, his long arms outstretched, his claws extended.

  “Your six!” Jaeger shrieked above the blaring Gladiator soundtrack.

  Toner hurtled toward a wall and kicked one leg, jerking him in the opposite direction. It was a nice move—if Sphynx had any less of a reaction time, he would have splattered into the bulkhead.

  However, Sphynx had changed direction almost before Toner himself. He caught the vampire in a long, pointy hug before Toner could bring the rifle to bear on his foe. Toner let out a high scream, and the rifle tumbled away.

  They both reached for it at the same time. Sphynx’s fingers, too long and slender, slipped into the trigger guard as Toner tried kicking it out of his reach. The metal trigger guard caught on Sphynx’s long claw, ripping off the top knuckle of his finger as he squeezed.

  With Sphynx’s torn finger wedged in the guard, the rifle discharged.

  It didn’t stop discharging.

  Jaeger, still trying to push Occy’s bulk toward the stacks, watched the slender cone of the sonic energy lance slice through the air. It was a shimmering column, like a heat mirage—subtle and easy to miss, and despite its name, utterly silent.

  The whole point of sonic weapons was that they wouldn’t significantly damage spaceship bulkheads or any properly shielded electronics. The lights and speakers lining the cathedral were, however, largely for show. There were a lot of them.

  The cathedral lit up like a Fourth of July fireworks show, filling the air with showers of sparks and smoke, leaving a trail of burning plastic where the sonic lance passed in its wild, uncontrolled flight. The atmosphere in its wake sizzled and smoked, filling the air with a strange, sickly sweet smell. The lights strobed from black to white as the electrical systems struggled to compensate.

  Jaeger flung herself at Occy, shielding the boy’s delicate torso with her body. She cradled his head, helpless to do anything but pray the sonic lance would pass them. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the mysterious soldier double over, making himself a smaller target as he dove for the cover of the stacks. Above them, Toner and Sphynx screamed and tore at each other. Tiny scraps of flechette darts bit into Jaeger’s cheeks.

  A wet breeze licked at her face, and Jaeger glanced up to see a cloud of fresh blood enveloping her, followed by the sickly sweet scent of the rifle discharge. Three of Occy’s tentacles drifted free, neatly sliced from his body by a passing sweep of the utterly silent lance. Jaeger, going numb, watched chunks of her curly black hair drift free from her head.

  She heard herself making a strange, hysterical, laughing, sobbing noise.

  One step at a time.

  Legs trembling, she put one foot in front of the other and pushed the drifting boy. There was no telling how long the rifle would go on spraying death before it ran out of charge, or someone caught it and disabled it—or it killed everybody in the room.

  With Toner and Sphynx wrestling overhead, their battle screams drowning in the cries of an impassioned chorus, and a malfunctioning rifle slicing random swaths of death and destruction behind her, Jaeger lowered her head and shoved Occy into the cover of the stacks.

  Toner and Sphynx swam through a cloud of blood, sparks, shrapnel, and flashing lights.

  Toner punched. Quick as lightning, Sphynx curled, ducking the blow. He snatched outward with one bleeding hand, raking a neat row of gashes through Toner’s suit—and the first inch or two of his chest.

  Toner’s first thought was, he can cut through toughened plastifiber? With his fingers?

  His second thought became that doesn’t hurt nearly as much as it should.

  He bellowed and twisted, leveraging the force of his mag soles to drive both legs into Sphynx’s ribs in a double kick. The motion ripped apart the needle-thin gashes Sphynx had put across his belly, and, oh, there it was. The pain. Spilling out of him in waves of blood and warm, wiggling guts.

  Those scratches had run deeper than he’d thought.

  Sphynx’s pupils dilated with excitement. Blood stained his hairless muzzle as he brought his claws back for another slash. The sight of it reminded Toner that he was starting to feel a bit peckish.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Toner saw the tumbling shape of the sonic rifle spinning close to the dais.

  He wasn’t going to be able to keep up with the cat’s freaky-fast slashes.

  So he didn’t even try.

  He banked off the nearest balcony and kicked Sphynx in the chest—knocking the catman into the path of the oncoming rifle fire.

  It was a good plan. The rifle sweep had been so erratic that nobody who wasn’t looking directly at it could have any hope of dodging it. Sphynx, tumbling backward toward the spinning cone of death, didn’t have a chance.

  It was, in fact, a great plan. Certainly better than Jaeger’s stupid idea.

  Satisfied, Toner folded his arms over his abdomen—just to keep anything important from spilling out—and watched Sphynx fall toward his final destination.

  As Toner watched, Sphynx doubled over backward, contorting like some nightmare creature.

  He reached out with one creepy long arm and caught the goddamned rifle by the hilt.

  “Oh shit.” Toner didn’t have time to
think or plan before the grinning Sphynx brought the weapon to bear on him. He only had time to fling himself to the side, and even that wasn’t fast enough.

  The lance swept across him.

  He slammed into the second-tier balcony. His vision blurred and dimmed, and he wondered if that’s what a sonic lance felt like as it scrambled all of his nerves and melted his brain—gray fuzz.

  With his senses fading, Toner dipped one finger into his front pocket and was glad that Sphynx hadn’t ripped it open and shredded it as well. When all else had failed, he supposed he could at least try Jaeger’s stupid plan.

  “Such a disappointment.”

  Toner squinted and saw Sphynx drifting idly above him, the sonic rifle resting easily in his long fingers.

  Sphynx lifted his tattered hand to his face and licked the bleeding stub where his finger had been. He shook his head. “First-generation blah blah mutation,” he sneered, or something like it. Toner found it kind of hard to pay attention. His brain had gone pretty fuzzy, and he was distracted, trying to get his hands to work right. Something about the wiring between his brain and his hands had gone all wonky.

  “All of that artistry wasted on some poorly bred trash.” Sphynx lifted the rifle. “Terribly resilient, though. A miracle of science, blah blah! And devastatingly handsome. Such a pity to waste it, blah blah. We shall have to give your template to some properly trained embryos, blah blah blah.”

  Ah, there it was. The mental control to his fingers and wrist.

  Toner opened his palm and flung the contents of his hand at Sphynx’s face.

  Sphynx jerked to the side, hands coming up to protect his head from the cloud of small, sticky, brown things roughly the size and shape of rat turds.

  Sphynx’s ears twitched as one of the things bounced off his cheekbones. Several of them hit his rough skin and stuck—plastering him with a new layer of freckles. He frowned.

  He plucked one of the things out of the air and sniffed it. “These are raisins.”