The Deep Black Space Opera Boxed Set

by James David Victor

  Though Hix was the traitor, Bayne had no way of knowing how many among his crew were Parallax loyalists. Some of them had to be Navy. There was no way he could have secured an entire crew for a ship that size, nearly a hundred people, consisting entirely of pirates. That was why Hix left the Esper docked at the rendezvous point instead of docking at Ore Town. His crew wouldn’t have sailed into pirate territory.

  On the line defending Ore Town were eight frigates including the Royal Blue. Two of them were former Navy ships stolen more than a decade ago. They’d fallen into disrepair in the hands of technicians and engineers untrained in how to maintain them, but they were still killing machines.

  The other five frigates ranged from functional to floating debris. They were hunks cobbled together with parts scavenged from ship graveyards or taken off mining transports that were themselves held together with little more than glue. They were sandbags.

  Sacrificial lambs.

  Parallax compartmentalized the plan. He told Bayne only what he needed to know, but now, seeing it unfold, Bayne was piecing together everyone’s role.

  “The Glinthawk has acquired a target lock, sir,” Delphyne shouted.

  “Evasive maneuvers!” Bayne ordered.

  The Blue shot forward and pitched starboard. All the ships on the line shot into action, as well, though most of them did so much slower. The Navy ships charged ahead, unleashing a hot wave of blaster fire, hoping to scatter the pirates then pick them off using torpedoes.

  The Glinthawk wasn’t deterred by the Blue’s quick action. It raced after the Blue like a dog on a rabbit, the scent stuck in its nose. Selvin Bigby was a good captain. Bold, determined. But he was prideful. Bayne had wounded that pride in their last encounter, and Bigby was looking to settle up.

  A man driven by base emotion in the heat of battle could be manipulated. He made mistakes.

  “Let him follow,” Bayne ordered. “Close, but not too close. He’ll fire torpedoes as soon as he gets a shot. Be ready with countermeasures.”

  “Drain his arsenal?” Mao said.

  Bayne nodded. “At least enough that he’ll start to think before charging in.”

  Mao must have registered the concern in Bayne’s voice because his gaze lingered on Bayne a while, and it was not full of disdain as it had been of late.

  “Lock,” Delphyne said.

  “Let him hold it,” Bayne said.

  “Torpedo away,” Delphyne said. A tense moment of silence passed. “Countermeasures launched. Torpedo intercepted. We’re clear.”

  A collective sigh filled the bridge.

  “Well done,” Bayne said to the crew. “Let’s continue on, and we may all survive this.”

  Time slowed in the thick of battle. Maneuvers that lasted only seconds seemed to drag on forever, each minute action of the overarching move spread out like a feast for Bayne to pick at. They rolled through the battlefield, adopting a defensive course.

  They let the Glinthawk get close, acquire a lock, and then the Blue deployed countermeasures. They did that three times before Captain Bigby seemed to grasp the pattern. He dropped back, hopefully to get his head straight.

  It was confusing for Bayne to wish his opponents well while battling them. It wasn’t rare for him to respect his opponent. Even the vilest of pirates in the Black showed incredible ingenuity that was, despite their wretchedness, inspiring. This was different, beyond respect. He did not wish to see Bigby hurt, nor any of the Navy captains. He had sailed with them. They were the only captains in the whole of the United Navy that ventured into the Deep Black. It took a certain defect of character to venture that far out repeatedly, to make a career of it.

  They were the only captains to which Bayne felt a kinship.

  The Navy captains didn’t seem to hold any such objections toward fighting the pirates. The Illuminate cut the frigate Trapper’s Gold in half with a well-placed torpedo. It must have hit the power core of the engine because it lit up with a vibrant blue before scattering like stardust.

  A small spike of regret flared in Bayne’s mind before fizzling out just like the Gold.

  The Forager knocked a second ship out of commission with a barrage of blaster fire that tore through its rear engine. Horne left the ship to drift as he broke pursuit in favor of one of the recommissioned Navy ships the pirates had stolen.

  The Meander was sleek and fast, despite its name. Bayne read the report of the theft in his early days with the Navy. He studied the tactics the pirates of the Black used in preparation for his campaign against them. Like most pirate plans, it was beautiful in its simplicity. The pirate attacked a mining colony then broadcast an SOS, playing at being one of the miners. When the Navy arrived, they waited in ambush.

  That captain was Wyrmwood, and he’d been the captain ever since.

  Horne wasn’t impressed by him. He pursued the Meander with ferocity. Putting the personal nature of this encounter aside, Horne hated pirates. More so than any of the other captains. His father was a captain. One of the first casualties in the war against the pirates. His was a singular focus: to kill them all.

  Wyrmwood ducked below the fray and laid a field of mines behind him. Horne ducked farther, beneath the minefield, well aware of the tactic, setting off several of them with a stream of blaster fire and using the ensuing explosion as cover. Then he came up on the other side and put a torpedo straight through the Meander’s belly.

  The line was now three ships down. If the odds tipped any farther against them, there would be no tipping them back again.

  But this engagement wasn’t about destroying ships. It was about stalling. They needed to keep the enemy fighting long enough that doubt crept into their minds and shadowed their decisions.

  Parallax’s face appeared on the monitor. “Captain Bayne, engage the Glinthawk. Destroy that ship.”

  Bayne’s mind raced as it became shrouded in that shadow they tried to cast. Doubt infected him. “We’re only supposed to engage. Keep them busy long enough for—”

  “Don’t recite my plan back to me. We don’t have the resources to stall any longer. We need to make them bleed, show them that we can hurt them. The Royal Blue is the most powerful ship on the line. Destroy the Glinthawk now or this campaign is over. Ore Town will fall.”

  He felt the burning eyes on him. The look, hot with anger and disbelief, full of hope just moments ago. Mao was at his side, having crossed the space between them like a ghost. And he was silent like one, sucking the heat out of the air with his presence alone.

  “Alter course,” Bayne ordered. “We’re going on the offensive.”

  “Sir,” Mao said. “We can’t—”

  “Alter course, XO,” Bayne repeated. “Or I’ll have someone else do it.”

  Bayne could hear Mao’s teeth grinding, the anger bubbling in his gut. The XO’s eyes flicked to the side, over Bayne’s shoulder. They landed on someone behind him, full of unasked questions.

  Then they flashed back to Bayne, full of anger.

  “Aye, sir.” Mao returned to his console and carried out his orders.

  Bayne spun around, looking for the target of Mao’s questions. Delphyne’s face was flushed red, her eyes wide with worry. She looked back to her console, fingers moving absent of thought.

  “Coming around, sir,” Mao said. “Our target?”

  Bayne’s eyes flitted about the monitor from red dot to red dot. Tiny flashing lights that represented hundreds of lives. Until he landed on his target. “Climb. Get us over the fray.”

  Bayne braced himself as the bow pointed up and the battle disappeared from view. “Contact the Chalice and the Swagger and tell them to keep our tail clear. We’ll need a minute.”

  The two pirate frigates responded with affirmatives. They altered their course and targeted the Forager, which had locked onto the Blue. Horne broke course to engage them.

  “Arm torpedoes,” Bayne ordered. “The full load.”

  Mao’s objection caught in his throat.

  Delphy
ne’s didn’t. “It’ll take ten minutes to recharge the torpedo tubes, sir. We’ll be left defenseless.”

  “Do as I say, Lieutenant. Trust me.” Heat flooded his face as he said it. A useless plea for something that no longer existed.

  “Torpedoes armed,” Delphyne said.

  Bayne stabbed his finger at the red dot on the monitor. “Target that ship. And bring us down right on top of it. Unleash the full load on the midsection.”

  The surge of anger that swelled among the bridge crew ebbed slightly. Mao and Delphyne didn’t have the same objection to attacking Byers ships that they did Navy ones.

  “Torpedoes away,” Delphyne said.

  The eruption of lights off the bow was terrifyingly beautiful. Like a sky full of shooting stars. One looked on it with awe before realizing the stars were falling on you.

  The space around the Byers carrier shimmered with translucent blue light. The shields took the brunt of the attack, but they couldn’t withstand the full force. They cracked. The remaining torpedoes slammed into the ship’s midsection.

  “Get me a reading on that carrier,” Bayne ordered.

  Delphyne scanned her monitor. “Structural integrity is holding.” A smile spread across her face. “But the attack caused catastrophic damage to the carrier’s landing bays. The fighters have been reduced by at least ninety percent.”

  Parallax wanted blood. Bayne gave him blood.

  And the attacking fleet knew it. Because the rest of them came out of hiding.

  Delphyne’s smile slid off her face. “Captain, seven more ships just appeared on screen. They were huddled beneath a cloaking shield near the edge of the quadrant.”

  Success. Part one of Parallax’s plan had worked. Draw the enemy’s reserves out of hiding. And now for part two.

  “Sound the retreat,” Bayne ordered. “All ships fall back to Ore Town.”

  “Captain,” Mao said from behind him.

  Bayne sighed. He had no desire to quarrel with his XO right now. Or ever. The plan was in motion and he didn’t want to justify it to Mao while they were carrying it out. But, as he turned to face Mao, he realized the XO had a plan of his own.

  Mao stuck the barrel of his blaster in Bayne’s face. “Belay that order.”

  14

  He couldn’t afford to feel the hope that burned in his heart. He shouldn’t have even felt it. Mao knew by now that it was fleeting. Bayne would do something to dash it sooner rather than later. Choosing not to destroy the Glinthawk was a move of sentimentality at best, but more likely strategic. Destroying the carrier’s fleet of fighters offered them a greater edge in the long run of this battle. And it still succeeded in drawing out the Navy and Byers Clan’s reserves.

  But none of that mattered now. There was no turning back.

  Mao gripped his blaster until his knuckles turned white. As white as Bayne’s face.

  “Now?” Bayne said. “You choose to do this now?”

  The arrogance of the man to suggest he saw this coming. Mao wasn’t even certain he’d follow through with his plan until he pulled his blaster from its holster. “I waited until the last possible moment hoping you’d eliminate the need for this. But, with each decision you made, you brought us closer to this moment.”

  “Don’t abdicate your responsibility here, Mao. This is mutiny.”

  Mao swallowed hard, the lump in his throat hurting the whole way down. “Yes, it is. But I think history will look on it differently. It will see a crew trying to save their captain from himself. Trying to pull themselves back to the right side of the line.”

  Bayne laughed as he shook his head. “History won’t look on us at all. Those that write it will erase us completely.” Bayne’s eyes darted past Mao to the elevator door, full of expectation.

  Mao’s stomach clenched. Bayne’s comm was on.

  Mao turned too late. Wilco stormed the bridge with his rifle raised, eyes full of fury.

  Bayne called for him to remain calm. “Easy, now. Let’s say we settle this once we’re out of the field. The longer we sit here, the easier a target we become.” No one moved. They became statues, afraid to flinch. “The rest of the line is falling back. In five seconds, we’ll be the only ones out here against a fleet of Navy and Byers ships. They’ll turn us to dust. It’ll be hard to drag us across that line then.”

  Bayne took a deep breath, seeming to inhale the mood of the bridge. “Graeme, take us back to Ore Town.”

  Mao didn’t flinch.

  Graeme twitched as he typed on his console. Broken breaths in and mumbles out. Then it all stopped. “I can’t, sir. The engines are nonresponsive.”

  Bayne’s self-assured smile faded. His eyes widened with understanding as he glanced around the bridge. “Hep.”

  A barely perceptible change in Mao’s expression served as acknowledgment.

  “You’ve set us adrift,” Bayne said. “You’ve made us a sitting duck. What did you hope to accomplish with this?”

  Graeme fidgeted at his station, words clearing bouncing around his head but no idea how to say them. “Sir? Sirs? Captain. Or XO. Former XO?”

  “Report, Graeme,” Mao said.

  “Incoming transmission, sir. From the Esper.”

  “Put it through,” Mao said.

  Mao held his breath in the seconds before the image appeared. The scene on the other side could have been one of many—the admiral and the traitor Hix on the same ship.

  Who would answer? His savior or an agent of chaos?

  He exhaled when Admiral Ayala appeared on screen.

  “This is Admiral Shay Ayala of the United Navy aboard the UNS Esper. I received your message,” Ayala said. “Now someone tell what the hell is going on before I cut your ship in two.”

  “Message?” Bayne said. “Hep.” He said the name like it was a curse.

  Mao leaned to the side, never taking his blaster off Bayne, so he could address Ayala. “Admiral, this is Executive Officer Taliesin Mao. I have taken control of the Royal Blue from former Captain Drummond Bayne. It is no longer the intention of this ship or its crew to engage the Navy or Byers Clan in combat. We did not serve the pirate Parallax willingly. We wish to surrender in hopes those circumstances will grant us clemency.”

  Bayne clenched his jaw. “A mouthful of lies.” He spoke to Ayala over his shoulder. “Not the least of which being that Mao controls this ship.” He pointed to Wilco before turning away from Mao to address the rest of the bridge crew. “Now, if someone would please get this ship running again. Lieutenant?”

  Delphyne stood, pensive, slow, unsure of her movements as she made them. Then she clasped her hands behind her back and adopted a formal stance. “I am a Lieutenant in the United Navy. I answer to the lawful captain of this ship.” She locked eyes with Bayne. “Taliesin Mao.”

  Bayne’s head fell forward. “I figured as much.”

  “Same,” a gruff voice said from the doorway, one that sounded like it hadn’t been used in days. Sigurd stood at Wilco’s back, a blaster between his shoulder blades.

  Mao returned his attention to Admiral Ayala. “I assure you, Admiral, the bridge is ours. The Royal Blue belongs to the United Navy again.”

  Ayala appeared concerned. Perhaps she mulled the situation over, considered the potential drawbacks, double-crosses, and hiccups in this move. But it seemed more personal than that. She did not take her eyes off Bayne. She seemed to dissolve, the rigid ferocity that Mao admired melting away.

  “I accept your surrender,” she said.

  The first hurdle had been crossed, but the largest still lay ahead. “Thank you, Admiral. If it pleases the admiral, I would like to establish a private comm channel so we can discuss the details of our surrender. I fear speaking openly among the crew could affect morale.”

  Admiral Ayala nodded. “I’ll set up a channel.”

  Before she could order her comm officer to open a channel, the bridge officer behind her dropped to the deck, her head disappearing in a bright flash of red. The Esper’s br
idge erupted in screams and several more people dropped dead, smoldering holes in their chests.

  Hix stepped into view, his blaster to Ayala’s head. “I’m afraid that won’t be happening.” The pirates in sailors’ clothing could be seen in the background securing the bridge crew still loyal to the Navy, those that still lived, anyway.

  Hix barked an order to his navigator. “Get us back to Ore Town.” Then he spoke directly to Mao. “I’ll be absconding with the admiral here. I’d sooner leave you to face whatever the Navy decides is justice. The irony would be oh-so-sweet, but Parallax seems to have an affinity for your captain. Turn the ship back over to him, and Parallax might let you go. Or don’t. Like I said, I don’t much care if you die or not.”

  The screen went black.

  Bayne shook like he might explode. “Well done, all. You’ve succeeded in the most robust failure. What do you plan to do now? We’re stuck between Parallax and the Navy. Who kills us first?”

  Delphyne projected the map of the battlefield on the monitor. The surviving pirate ships and the Esper had retreated close enough to Ore Town. The planetary defense shield shimmered to life, cutting them off from the battle. The Navy and Byers ships surrounded the Royal Blue.

  “I routed that transmission through each of the Navy ships,” Delphyne said. “They’re aware of our status. Captain Jeska just sent instructions. We’re to be boarded.”

  Bayne locked eyes with Mao, each man staring hate at the other. “You’ve thought of everything, then, haven’t you?”

  “Chief,” Mao said to Sigurd, still holding his blaster to the back of Wilco’s head. “Take Bayne and Wilco to the brig. Keep them under armed guard until further notice.” Mao stepped onto the platform that held the captain’s chair. “I am assuming captaincy of the Royal Blue. Any who have objection to that may follow Sigurd to the brig. Everyone else, back to your stations.”

  15

  Sigurd seemed quite pleased to be forcing Bayne to march at the point of his blaster. Bayne didn’t fault him for it. He’d kept the chief locked up for weeks. This must have been a sweet revenge.