The Deep Black Space Opera Boxed Set

by James David Victor

  Silence fell, but Mao couldn’t afford to let it stretch on. “I need to know where you fall.”

  “I’m in,” Bigby said.

  “It only works with both of you,” Mao said, looking to Medviev.

  She leaned back in her chair, more of her appearing on-screen. Her shoulders were tense, climbing up to her ears. The muscles in her jaw pulsed as she stared off at something off-screen. “This is treason. Just the conversation alone is treason, and knowing who’s sitting in the big chair, those who entertain treason will not fare well when caught. But that’s why I’m on board. Colonel Tirseer is not operating in the best interest of the United Systems. I believe she will bring us all to ruin if given the chance.”

  “Thank you,” Mao said. “You know your parts. Play them well.”

  “See you in the noose,” Medviev said as she signed off.

  Bigby laughed as his screen went black.

  Mao looked to Roker and the rest of his crew. He nodded, hiding his pride and gratitude behind a stoic face.

  “This is a bold plan even by this ship’s standards,” Roker said. “And it hinges on a piece of scrap that may not even fly.”

  “It doesn’t need to fly far,” Mao said. “And if anyone can do it, Selvin Bigby can. Okay, set a course for Shayle.”

  If ever there was a time for a drink, now was it. Mao poured himself a small one. He did not desire it for the calming effect, but for the sentimentality. He felt like he had just joined the club of Royal Blue captains populated only by Captain Drummond Bayne, that of rogues and scofflaws. He toasted his old friend.

  “Call for you, sir,” Graeme said over Mao’s personal comm. “Commander Calibor.”

  Mao swallowed the rum in one swallow and spoke with a voice restricted by the burn of alcohol. “Put him through to my cabin.”

  Calibor’s unpleasant face appeared on the monitor above Mao’s desk. The commander exuded unwelcomeness. He was the sort of man who would throw things at children as they walked by his home and dared to step foot on his lawn. He was disliked by many, respected by fewer. A sycophant and self-serving tyrant.

  Mao smiled at him. “Commander, pleasure to see you.” Perhaps he’d had more to drink than he realized.

  “We will be arriving at Shayle within the hour, Captain Mao. Are the preparations made?”

  “Yes, sir. The Royal Blue is combat ready. We are prepared to engage as soon as we arrive.”

  “Good,” Calibor said, his voice like gravel. “We don’t know who else Montaine may be working with. It’s rumored he has allied himself with other pirates. Not to mention he still has that thing with him.”

  Mao assumed by that thing, Calibor meant Sigurd, Mao’s once friend and comrade. “Yes, sir.”

  “We will be the first to arrive,” Calibor said. “Captains Salizar and Peppin will be close behind. I want this wrapped up before too many ships get involved. This is your mess, and you will clean it up.”

  And you will take the credit, Mao thought. “Yes, sir.”

  Calibor narrowed his gaze at Mao as if recognizing that he was looking at a mask and trying to peek behind it. Mao refused to let his mask slip. He maintained the composure of a Navy captain, feeling dirty for using something he once held so dear as a means of deceit. “Are you ready for this, Captain Mao? Will you be able to execute my orders as I give them, without hesitation? Are you prepared to fire on this man?”

  Mao cleared his throat. “I was under the impression that we were to apprehend Hepzah Montaine and his people and present them to Colonel Tirseer alive, sir.”

  “That’s not what I asked, Captain.”

  Mao swallowed again, the burn of the rum still lingering in his throat. “Of course, sir. I will faithfully execute the orders given to me.”

  Calibor seemed reluctant to believe him. “Good.” The transmission cut off.

  Mao poured another drink.

  “Coming up on Shayle, sir,” Graeme said.

  Mao shifted in his captain’s chair. “Send the alert to Captains Medviev and Bigby. Tell them to stand by.” He took a deep breath and steadied his nerves. “Then connect me to Commander Calibor.” The unpleasant visage of Force Commander Calibor had grown even more unpleasant in the hour since last they spoke. “Approaching the target, Commander. Awaiting your orders.”

  “Once we exit the jump, the Royal Blue is to take up a position above the Shayle spaceport. Intel says the Fair Wind is still docked. You will keep them that way. If they attempt to take off, you will intercede and prevent their escape. I hope you fare better at the task than you did last time.”

  “And you, sir? What role will the Illuminate play?” Mao didn’t intend to have an accusatory tone, but the rum had loosened his lips more than he realized.

  Calibor scowled. “I will be commanding the entire operation and putting an end to a galactic threat.”

  “Of course, sir. I meant no offense.”

  “Exiting jump, sir,” Graeme said. A voice off-screen echoed the same from the Illuminate.

  “Battle stations, all,” Calibor ordered. “We are about to engage one of the deadliest enemies the United Navy has ever encountered. Be at the ready and follow my orders, and I have absolute faith that we will succeed in our mission.” He addressed Mao. “Keep this line open.”

  “Yes, sir.” Mao had anticipated that Calibor would want to keep tabs on him. He didn’t believe that the commander assumed Mao to be undermining the mission, but rather that Mao was incompetent.

  As the ship exited its jump, the stars turned from streaks of light to stationary dots again. Mao had held his breath without realizing it. When he saw the clear skies above Shayle, he exhaled and the burning in his lungs subsided. “Moving into position.”

  The Royal Blue shot forward toward the northern pole of the moon. Calibor’s voice sounded over the open comm. “Attention Hepzah Montaine, Captain of the Fair Wind, on the moon of Shayle. This is Force Commander Calibor of the United Navy. You are hereby ordered to power down and evacuate your ship. You and your crew are to remain inside the mining station of Shayle and await the arrival of United Navy forces. You will then be placed under arrest, and your ship and all its cargo will be confiscated and become property of the United Navy. If you comply, I assure you that you and your crew will be unharmed. If you resist, I will authorize the use of force. How do you respond?”

  Static. Mao was grateful that the video feed to the Illuminate was off. He did not want to watch the anger tighten the already unpleasant look of Calibor’s face.

  Calibor repeated his message, and again received no response.

  “Hepzah Montaine,” Calibor said gravely. “I have issued my final warning. You have no means of escape. If you attempt to lift off from Shayle, you will be fired upon. Navy forces are now descending and will place you under arrest. I say again, if you resist, they are authorized to use force.” Calibor then addressed Mao. “Maintain your position, Captain Mao. Send your away team to Shayle to rendezvous with mine. I will spare no resource in completing this mission.”

  An unforeseen wrinkle. Mao hadn’t anticipated having any of his men on the ground. He ran through his options trying to find any scenario where he could refuse. “Yes, sir.” There were none. To outright refuse an order would not only jeopardize his immediate plans, it would remove him from the board altogether. Tirseer was looking for an excuse to court martial him.

  “I’ll lead the team, sir,” Roker said. Mao’s heart sank into his gut. She had stepped up recently to fill the void left by Delphyne. She may have been angling for a promotion to the vacant XO position, and, given some time to think, Mao would likely have awarded it to her. She was an excellent sailor and had much potential as an officer. But he feared her volunteering now was misguided. Especially doing so in front of Calibor.

  “Excellent,” Calibor said. “Alert me when your team is ready to launch.”

  Mao waved Roker closer. He spoke so only she could hear. “You should not have done that.”

&
nbsp; “Someone needed to. You need to send a team. I can make contact with Hep and buy you some time.”

  “Calibor doesn’t trust me. He wants my people on the ground so I have some skin in the game.”

  “Then that’s what I’ll be,” Roker said. “Tirseer can’t get her hands on Sigurd. I’ll make sure he gets on this ship.”

  Mao considered calling off the mission, telling Calibor to fly into a star. “So be it. Croft and Byron will accompany you. Alert me once you’re ready to go.”

  “Aye, sir.” She marched off the bridge.

  Moments later, Roker reported in from the hangar bay with Croft and Byron, saying they were ready to deploy. Mao felt like his hands and feet had been tied and he’d been set adrift, left to be carried by the currents wherever they may take him, no longer able to swim or struggle against the pull. He issued the order, and his away team departed.

  10

  They crowded around the decaying communications console in the mining foreman’s office. Hep had sunk further into the tattered leather chair behind the desk while Byrne grew more upright. Dr. Hauser leaned against the wall, her hand to her forehead like she might faint. Horus had joined them. Luckily, his face was mostly hidden by beard that had partly frozen over. If it hadn’t, they would have all seen a truly disgusting display of anger.

  “Damn coward, that one,” Horus growled. “Mao let us go and now he comes to take it all back. What the hell for? We served on his ship, fought alongside him.”

  “He’s caught in an impossible situation,” Hep said. “He can’t disobey direct orders.”

  “Sure he can,” Horus said. “I did it all the time. You just don’t do it.”

  Hep stood, fighting off the intoxicating allure of disappearing into the chair forever. The comm was still open, allowing them to hear everything as it happened.

  “Royal Blue shuttle away,” came a voice from somewhere above their heads. The captain of Mao’s away team was headed down to them.

  “Illuminate shuttle away,” came another.

  “Two away teams coming to take us in right now,” Horus said as if the others hadn’t heard exactly what he’d just heard. “What are we going to do about that?”

  Hep squeezed the bridge of his nose and paced behind the desk.

  “They’re only getting closer,” Horus said.

  “I know that,” Hep snapped. “Give me a second.”

  Horus threw up his arms. “We don’t have a second. The second they land, they’ll tear through us. They’ll execute us all right here, blaster to the back of the head. Then they’ll burn this place, use a nuke to crack the moon in half. That’s how far Tirseer is willing to go to get things done and cover her tracks. If you aren’t willing to go further, then we’re dead.”

  Hep continued pacing like he wasn’t listening. He couldn’t help but listen. He couldn’t help but feel the weight of their lives and the heft of the charge that Wilco continuously levied against him: that he was a frightened little rabbit incapable of making the tough choices. “Get Akari.”

  “The hell is she going to do?” Horus growled.

  Hep drew his sword before the words fully left Horus’s lips. His mouth hung half-open as Hep’s blade tickled the underside of his chin. “She’ll do what I tell her, same as you.”

  Horus would have nodded, but that would have pushed the sword through his jaw. He turned and left instead. A moment later, he returned with Akari, who looked tired, the skin sagging under her eyes and her postured slumped.

  “How’s the heating coming?” Hep asked Akari. Horus moved to complain, but quieted when Hep reached for his sword.

  “Fine,” Akari answered. “I’ve serviced all of the interior piping. Things are running efficiently. I’ve also boosted the output of all the generators. This station will be warming up soon.”

  “You’re going to hate me, but I need you to do something else.”

  She looked at Hep with an unchanging expression.

  Everyone in the station gathered in the main chamber, save Akari and her small team of techs who were busy making the alterations that Hep requested, and Sigurd, who was still locked in the vault. Wilco and his team stood off to the side, wary of the assembly.

  “Two minutes until the Navy teams touch down,” Hep said. “We’re expecting between eight and ten highly-trained sailors with itchy trigger fingers. Some of us have served alongside them, but that will not garner us any leniency. We should expect the full brunt of their assault.”

  “Some pep talk,” Wilco said.

  “We need to prepare,” Hep said, ignoring the comment. “Surrender is not an option. We outnumber them, but they are vastly more experienced and better armed. And there are more Navy ships on the way. We need to escape, and we need to escape fast. If Navy reinforcements arrive before we get off this moon, then we’re screwed.”

  “So, we’re screwed then?” Wilco said.

  This time, Hep shifted his attention. “Not if we follow my plan.”

  “Oh, you have a plan? Then, yes, totally screwed.”

  Hep stepped to Wilco. Wilco stood to meet him. Their noses only inches apart, both tense and ready to fight. “If you’d like to sit this out, you’re welcome to. There are plenty of dark corners here where you can hide. Just stay in yours and keep out of my way.”

  Wilco leaned closer, putting his mouth to Hep’s ear. “You aren’t up to this. You’re going to get all these people killed.”

  Hep planted a hand in the center of Wilco’s chest and pushed him away. Kurda took a half-step toward them, raising her hammer. Horus, looking delighted, matched her. Wilco stopped her with a wave. “Let him play leader,” Wilco said.

  Hep returned his attention to the group. “We have a chance here. This is how we’re going to do it.”

  The Navy shuttles landed ten meters apart from each other. They looked the same, and from that distance, Hep couldn’t read the names painted on their hulls. He didn’t know which contained possible friendlies. Maybe neither did. At their last parting, Mao was none too pleased with Hep. His life had undoubtedly been made miserable by his superiors for allowing Hep to abscond with Sig. There was no telling what sort of greeting Mao would extend when next they met. If they ever did.

  Hep peered through the binoculars, looking out through the long, narrow window in the observation tower on top of the mining station. The wind whipped through the rickety structure as if its walls were made of cotton, but he did not feel the cold. His body thrummed with energy.

  The inhabitants of each shuttle disgorged. Three from one. Five from another. They took no time assembling, but instead made straight for the station’s front entrance. “Eight incoming,” Hep said over the open comm. “Everyone in position?” They all sounded off, voices a mix of anxiety and excitement. Horus’s was pure excitement.

  Hep read the enemy’s movements. The eight approached the front entrance cautiously but quickly. The lead attacker withdrew something from a pack on his back, a black box about the size of large chocolate bar. “They’re going to blow the door,” Hep said. The sailors weren’t taking any chances. They would sweep the room, probably under orders to kill all who resisted. They only needed Sig. He still couldn’t tell who among them came from the Royal Blue, so he let die the last lingering hope that Mao would offer him a hand.

  The front entrance exploded inward.

  Hep dropped his binoculars and jumped through the hatch in the floor, landing with a thud on the station’s roof. The cold made every movement harder, but he willed himself forward. He ran across the roof, careful of the ice patches he’d identified earlier, until he reached the access hatch in the center of the building. The smell of smoke hit him as he opened it. Lowering his head into the opening, he waited and listened. Footsteps. Unintelligible chatter. The Navy hadn’t engaged anyone yet.

  So far, so good.

  Hep climbed down the access ladder, careful not to make any noise. The ladder ended on a catwalk platform along the edge of the big chamber,
on the opposite side of the foreman’s office. He raised his hand to signal Akari, who was watching him from inside the office. She waved back, acknowledging that she saw him. The Navy team moved methodically forward, checking corners, sweeping the area for threats. As they pressed further into the chamber, Hep’s heart raced faster. Until the front sailor’s foot landed on the mark he’d set in his mind. Then his heart, and everything else, exploded.

  Hep dropped his hand. Akari triggered the modifications she’d made to the heating system. The pipes directly over the Navy team’s heads burst from a sudden and violent increase in pressure. They sprayed the team with steam, disorienting and blinding them. Some among them squeezed the triggers of their blasters, spraying indiscriminately at an unseen enemy. Hep pressed the comm but did not need to speak. Trapper Mayne was already in motion.

  A chorus of screams sounded from inside the steam cloud as Trapper darted through with his staff, smacking them in the knees, trying to incapacitate them. A figure shot free from the far side of the steam cloud and disappeared behind a stack of crates. As irritated as he was to be relying on Wilco for help, he was glad to have a fighter like Trapper on his side.

  The team emerged from the steam cloud seconds later, two of them limping. They were pressed together in a moving huddle, all focused in different directions in anticipation of another attack. They’d fallen silent again, or at least quiet enough that Hep couldn’t hear them. They let off the triggers but still appeared flustered and jumpy as they continued forward through the chamber.

  Hep followed the Navy team from above, ducked so low he was nearly crawling.

  “Approaching point B,” he whispered. “Now.”

  Just as the Navy team passed under a support beam, the gas line attached to it exploded. Chunks of rock broke off from the section of cave roof and fell toward them. One sailor shoved another out of the way and just barely managed to avoid being crushed. A second was struck on the shoulder and dropped his blaster. Once the ceiling stopped falling, the team had been divided in two by a pile of rubble half a man high. Nothing they couldn’t easily climb over, but just big enough to keep them from coming to the assistance of each other as Trapper Mayne unleashed his second wave of attacks.