The Deep Black Space Opera Boxed Set

by James David Victor

  The mirage was gone.

  Just fire and death and a clear path forward.

  9

  Even the medbay. Especially the medbay. It was the singular aspect of the Esper that outshone the Royal Blue in every way.

  The ringing in Bayne’s ears had died down only slightly, but enough that he could hear the doctor ask if there was any pain in his back. There wasn’t, just the pain in his head.

  He asked about Hep. The boy hadn’t regained consciousness by the time Hix’s people brought them back on board. They had to pry Bayne’s hands off him in order to get Hep to medbay. Bayne hadn’t realized how tight he was squeezing. He relented, releasing Hep and whatever else he was holding on to.

  The Esper was underway immediately, before Bayne made it to medbay. Once he arrived, the doctor examined him.

  “Some bruising,” the doctor said, looking at Bayne’s back. “But nothing that won’t heal given time.” Then he licked his lips—which Bayne found to be an unsettling tic for a doctor—and left without a word about Hepzah.

  Once the nurses had finished poking at him and let him be, Bayne left his room in the med wing in search of Hep. He was dizzy, his equilibrium rattled. Moving about the wing took longer than he liked, and the frustration bubbling in him only made his movements clumsier. There were no other patients aside from a few nursing a stomach virus. The Esper had yet to see real combat, so its medbay floors were blood-free.

  After opening what seemed like the hundredth crisp, clean curtain, Bayne heard the muted sound of voices. They were mumbles and garbled syllables, but the tones came through clear. Tense and full of worry. Verging on combative.

  Bayne could see only one set of feet under the bottom edge of the curtain though he could make out two distinct voices. Shiny black boots. Not a scuff. A unique design, not standard issue. If he got any closer, Bayne was sure he could see his reflection in them. He inched closer, moving slowly as a means of approaching silently and not falling over when hit with a sudden wave of concussion-induced vertigo.

  The voices grew louder, more volatile. He felt like he was wandering through a minefield again. The curtain hiding the angry voices ruffled, moved by the force of their frustration. The shiny-shoed feet turned on their heels. Bayne rushed to the side, behind another curtain, and climbed into an empty patient’s bed. The click-clack of hard soles on tile faded into the distance. He peeked out from behind his curtain in time to catch barely a glimpse of someone’s back. Blue uniform. That was all he saw. Not even enough of a form to tell if it belonged to a man or woman.

  Bayne slid off the bed, the floor cold beneath his feet. The quiet was more unsettling than the hushed rage. He had only caught a glimpse of the other voice’s back, but he was sure who the second one belonged to. He brushed the curtain aside to see Hepzah lying on his bed.

  The boy didn’t seem surprised to see him. Bayne wasn’t surprised to see Hep either, but the shock at seeing Hep’s face must have shown. Half of the boy’s face was bruised, his left eye nearly swollen shut.

  “Those mines are no joke,” Hep said, attempting a smile.

  Bayne sat on the edge of Hep’s bed.

  “Could be worse,” Hep said, his legs squirming uncomfortably. “Doc said I cracked the visor of my suit with my face. A little more force and I would have lost all my oxygen. She’ll be back soon to give me a nanite injection. I’ll be healed up in no time.”

  Hep’s voice sounded unnatural, force-fed the sort of levity that came naturally to Wilco. He was trying to brush the ordeal off, get things back to normal as soon as possible.

  “I’m sorry,” Bayne said.

  The simple apology made Hep the most uncomfortable yet.

  “I put you at risk,” Bayne said. “You aren’t a member of my crew. I have no right putting you in the field. But at the moment, I trust you more than I do most members of my crew.”

  Hep’s one eyebrow creased. He looked like a cyclops. “It’s nothing.” His voice was noncommittal, flowing along the path of least resistance, hoping for one that led in the other direction.

  “Was that the doctor you were speaking with a moment ago?” Bayne asked.

  The path of least resistance ran straight into a wall. “Yeah.” Hep’s gray eyes fell and stared at his knees.

  Bayne patted the boy’s leg. “Rest up. Let those nanites do their job.” He stood and turned to leave. Stopping at the curtain, Bayne looked over his shoulder and caught Hep tensing, the relief at Bayne leaving suddenly retreating. “Strange how that mine activated. The last one. I didn’t handle it any different than any of the others. Just my bad luck, I guess. But just my good luck that you were there to help shove it out of the way. Saved my life again.”

  Hep didn’t look up from his knees.

  Bayne shuffled back to his bed. He sat on the edge of it a moment, thinking over his present and future course. Heading for Triseca, straight for what was likely a warzone. Hoping Horus was still alive to answer his questions. Hoping he was willing to answer his questions and not turn him in or kill him at the mention of the Rangers. A lot of hoping and a lot of luck.

  The uncertainty soured his belly. The doubt made him angry. He did not trip that mine. He assured himself of that. He did not like being made to second-guess his actions. But if he didn’t trip it, then who did?

  He hated unravelling two mysteries at once. The threads of each twisted together into knots.

  The one who argued with Hep was a good place to start. Lucky for Bayne, he had an eye for shoes.

  10

  The Esper’s war room was the one facet of the fancy ship that did not elicit a pang of envy from Bayne. It was nice, yes. It contained the most advanced tech available. It undoubtedly served its purpose. Or, rather, was just now serving its purpose for the first time. But it did so while fundamentally misunderstanding what its purpose was. War was managed on the bridge, where the captain could look his crew and enemies in the eye at the same time. This room, lit by the glow of monitors and humming with a lullaby of soft machine sounds, was as removed from war as it could be.

  It was insulation.

  Bayne walked in to no reaction. The senior officers of the Esper were frantic. Arguments erupted around an oval-shaped table, several at once. Captain Hix tried to calm them and regain some order, but his polite voice could not be heard over the chaos. Some weren’t even looking at him.

  Valoriae, the XO, stood in the shadows at the back of the room, removed from all the others, studying a monitor that looked to be a tactical layout of Triseca Station. Bayne hadn’t paid her much mind at their first meeting. Like most executive officers, she remained in the background, the main support of the captain. But he couldn’t help but notice her now. She had the build of a fighter, long and lean, nimble. She reminded Bayne of the prize fighters he’d seen in the alleys of any port he’d docked in during his Ranger days. The fights were a favorite pastime. Her jaw was set firm. Her shoulders were broad, but loose. She was steady, but not tense.

  “Are you preparing for an incursion?” Bayne asked her.

  She didn’t look away from the monitor. “Just preparing,” she said. “The captain and the council have yet to decide on a course of action.”

  “The council,” Bayne scoffed. He gestured to the yelling mass of naval officers. “I’m sure they’re doing exactly the same thing.”

  Valoriae continued studying the schematics. She zoomed in on the docking bay then scrolled along the outer sections of the station. “And that’s why I’m preparing. We’ll arrive at Triseca within the hour whether they’ve come to a decision or not.”

  “And what would you do, if the decision was yours?”

  Valoriae finally looked away from the display, her mouth still set in stone, but her eyes lighting up slightly. “Engage the enemy head on. While they are focused on our main assault, I would deploy an away team to secure the assets we came to meet. They’re the mission. The well-being of one out of two dozen Byers Clan stations is not.”


  Bayne nodded, an impressed crease in his brow. “You should yell that over all these fools.”

  “Half of them don’t want to attack at all,” Valoriae said. “Don’t want to waste the resources defending a Byers Clan asset.”

  “You don’t mind?”

  “A pirate’s a pirate,” she said. “Doesn’t matter what he’s attacking. And Parallax doesn’t do anything without reason. If he’s taking the chance on such a brazen attack, then the benefits of it being successful must be enormous. I’d sooner not see him gain whatever advantage this may grant him.”

  Seemingly done trying to whisper his officers into submission, Captain Hix pounded his fist on the table.

  Valoriae made her way to the table to join the officers.

  Bayne remained along the outer rim of the room, not only because there wasn’t an open seat for him, but because he wanted to observe. This collection of officers had suddenly become something other than a means to reaching Horus. At least one among them had taken to whispering and plotting in the dark corners of the medbay.

  Hix cleared his throat. He looked embarrassed for his outburst but tried to use the respect he had garnered with it. “That’s all I’ve had of that. I understand the confusion. This was meant to be a simple task, and now we face our first combat mission as a crew against the most feared pirate in the system. It is a shock that I share, but not one that I fear. We are sailors in the United Navy. Aboard one of its most advanced ships in the galaxy.

  “There is no situation we cannot handle. I assure you, we will handle this.”

  His assurance did little. It quieted the room but did not put the officers at ease. That was plain in the way they slumped, the tilt of their shoulders, the morose shadows on their faces.

  But it was not Bayne’s place to steel another man’s crew. He folded his arms and leaned against the wall.

  “Admiral Ayala has relayed our orders,” Hix said.

  A mistake, Bayne thought. He understood the impulse to pass the responsibility up the chain, but the crew should feel like their captain was in charge when heading into battle.

  “Our mission is to engage the hostiles attacking Triseca Station,” Hix continued. “While we engage, Byers Clan security forces will focus on retaking the station from pirates who have already boarded.”

  Bayne flashed a smirk at Valoriae. “Captain,” Bayne said. “Forgive my interruption, but might I suggest an addendum to your plan?”

  Hix gritted his teeth. “I appreciate your input, Captain Bayne. But these are our orders. Aboard this ship, we follow orders.”

  Bayne felt the jab in the comment. “Of course. I’m not suggesting you disobey orders. One might think I’m actually suggesting we go above and beyond our orders.”

  A shadow fell over Hix’s face. That anger he tried to hide. The anger they all tried to hide—officers, sailors, everyone who was force-fed orders and expected to swallow, no matter the taste.

  Bayne continued when Hix didn’t voice an objection. “Dispatch an away team to board the station. A covert team can locate the VIPs and secure their evacuation much more efficiently than Byers Clan security forces. That’s why we’re here: to coordinate with Byers. If the representative dies, then all this was pointless.”

  The shadow on Hix’s face fell away, pierced with a ray of light. “Valoriae, assemble an away team and prep the jump-ship. You’ll depart as soon as we make contact.”

  “Aye, sir,” Valoriae said, standing from the table.

  “If I might be so bold as to request that I join the away team?” Bayne said.

  Hix chuckled as the shadow returned. “Granted. I believe the Esper could use a reprieve from Captain Drummond Bayne.”

  Bayne smiled and followed Valoriae. “Looks like we’ll be spending some more time together,” he said, whispering so only she could hear. “Nice boots,” he added.

  She cast him a glance over her shoulder. A mischievous look, like she’d been caught breaking a rule, a child with her hand in the cookie jar.

  11

  His eye was almost an eye again. He looked slightly less like a monster. “Didn’t you just apologize to me for putting me in harm’s way not more than an hour ago?” Hep pushed himself up to a sitting position on his bed.

  “I did,” Bayne answered. “I won’t make the mistake of recklessly endangering you again.”

  “But you’re making me join the boarding party?”

  “The Navy prefers to call them away teams,” Bayne said. “Semantics. The bones of any bureaucracy. You’ll be in far less danger with me and the away team than you will be aboard the Esper. Don’t tell our good captain and host, but he appears quite ineffective. If he makes it away from Triseca at all, it won’t be without casualties.”

  “If he doesn’t make it away from Triseca, then how will we?” Hep asked.

  “Let me worry about the particulars.”

  The bunkroom was empty save for the only people on board who Bayne cared to speak with. Sigurd looked to have paced a ring in the center of the floor. Delphyne was still lying on her bed.

  “Sir,” Sigurd said, stopping his march and readying his weapon. “We have orders? This place emptied out a minute ago. Rumbling about an attack.”

  “They have orders,” Bayne said. “Hix is engaging Parallax at Triseca.”

  Delphyne shot up from her bed. “Engage Parallax?”

  “Not to worry, Lieutenant,” Bayne said. “You’ll be joining me on the away team. You both will.”

  “Away team,” Delphyne repeated. “Not to worry. Right.”

  Sig bounced from foot to foot. “No worries, LT. I’ll watch your back. What’s the objective?”

  “Extraction,” Bayne said. “The Byers representative we came to meet.” He cast a sideways glance at Hepzah. “And any other VIPs we come across.” Hep’s eyes fell to the floor. “We don’t engage the enemy if we can help it. Find the targets, get out. Rep’s last-known location and other probable locations are being uploaded to your computers.”

  Delphyne swayed on her feet, like a tree being pushed in hurricane winds. “Okay, cool.”

  Bayne looked her in the eye. “Simple mission. Simple objective. You’ve done plenty of away missions before. And we’ve got Valoriae and her team backing us. Smooth sailing.”

  “So smooth,” Delphyne said. She stopped swaying, became rooted, strong. “Let’s roll out.”

  “Let’s do this!” Sigurd said.

  Valoriae’s away team consisted of five sailors, not counting Bayne and his crew. They looked as lean, lithe, and ready for action as she did. Each carried a pulse rifle, sidearm, full payload of plasma grenades, and a couple personnel mines. No stun weapons. No hesitation in their eyes. The ship may not have seen action, but Bayne had a hard time believing this bunch was green. They had some blood under their fingernails.

  Bayne’s team opted for a subtler approach—rifle, stun pistol, a couple grenades. He wanted them to move quickly. And he knew that, in the thick of the chaos, even those they were rescuing might resist out of panic. A quick stun blast took negotiating with them off the table.

  Valoriae approached, finger to her ear, receiving a message from the bridge. “We’re coming out of jump in less than three minutes. Expecting heavy resistance. Jump-ship launches as soon as we arrive. Mount up.”

  Bayne found himself sitting with that uneasy mix of excitement and anxiety that bubbled into a noxious sense of nausea. He wanted to jump out of the ship, rush through the battlefield gripping his swords, and breach Triseca Station, cutting any in half who dared stand in his way. And he wanted to ensure the safety of his team. He wanted them tucked away aboard the Royal Blue where they could enjoy a stiff drink and the sound of soft music. But there was no question which he wanted more.

  He could practically smell the metal of his blades, the positive charge that hung in the air after a blaster fight. And he ached for it. More powerfully than his guilt over dragging his crew into his personal vendetta. He allowed his sense of d
enial to grow and mask it all. This was a Navy operation. It would have been a Navy operation regardless of whether he intended to get aboard that station to find Elvin Horus. Someone would likely be boarding that station even if he hadn’t prodded Captain Hix to authorize it. Sailors would be dying in less than three minutes whether Bayne was there or not.

  But it wouldn’t be his people.

  No, his people were already dead. Gunned down like dogs in an alley by the United Systems. That was why he was jumping through a warzone to get on that station. That was why his crew was jumping with him. To get answers. To right so many wrongs.

  The jump-ship doors closed. Bayne took stock of the away team. Delphyne, Sig, and Hep. Add to that Valoriae and four of her people. It was a force, but not a team. Divided already between us and them. Soon to be divided even more.

  The shuttle bay doors slid open to reveal the beauty of passing stars. They looked like streaks of light cutting the black into ribbons. Long blades of celestial power. Bayne touched his hip, missing his own blades.

  “Disengage in three, two…” Valoriae announced.

  The team gripped their rifles and steadied themselves.

  “One!”

  There was a split-second when the scene froze like a painting. Dozens of Byers Clan fighters swirling about in a dogfight. Some only half there, captured in that instant when the fatal shot found its mark and the ship erupted in a flash of heat. A blink and it would be gone forever. A personnel transport en route to Triseca Station. Pockets of the station destroyed, singed, glowing from a barrage of blaster fire. A midsize cruiser, essentially a yacht that had been modified into a battleship. Minimal crew, maximum payload.

  Parallax had amassed an impressive force to wage war on Triseca. But something was missing. Parallax. The Black Hole wasn’t there.