“How?” was all Hep managed to say.
“Are we dead?” Wilco added.
“I should hope not,” Bayne said. “That would mean that either I’m also dead or I can talk to ghosts now. Though, with all that I am now, I don’t doubt that last possibility, but I would still find it rather disconcerting.”
“All that you are now?” Hep said. “What are you?”
Bayne leaned forward, elbows resting on his thighs, smile cut across his face. “That is the question, isn’t it?” He stood, and his throne vanished. “One that I wish I could answer.”
“You don’t know?” Wilco said.
Bayne scoffed as he turned, arms outspread, gesturing to everything around him. The ship. The island. The inside of this bubble that existed in space against every law of science that humanity had written. “Look at this place. I created this place. I think. I don’t know. It felt like I did. I wished for it, willed it, and it was.” He locked Wilco in a pointed stare. “Can you fathom how that’s possible? Neither can I.”
“Tirseer never told you?” Hep knew it sounded ridiculous the second the words left his mouth.
The absurdity was written plain on Bayne’s face.
“Whatever,” Wilco said, waving his hands like swatting away a fly. “We don’t need to know what he is. We don’t need to know what all he can do as long he can at least do what the doctor said he can.”
Bayne’s eyes narrowed. “What doctor?”
“Dr. Elias.”
Bayne went rigid. His jaw tightened. His eyes flared with blue energy. The ship reacted like it was being tossed in a fierce storm. The mast cracked. Fissures ran through the deck. “What do you know of Dr. Elias? Are you working with him? Did he send you?”
“Whoa.” Hep stepped toward Bayne, trying to soothe whatever tempest had just flared inside him. “He’s our prisoner. He told us to find you, that you are the only one who can stop Ayala.”
Bayne shook free from his rage. “Ayala? Explain.”
Hep told Bayne everything that had happened since the Black Hole exploded. When he finished, Bayne fell back into his throne. The ship repaired itself in a blink. A long silence stretched between them, made to feel longer by the fact that everything around them had gone completely still. Hep realized then that this wasn’t an independent environment created from Bayne’s will, this was an extension of him. Everything in this space was an external manifestation of his inner landscape. And, right now, it was frozen in thought.
“Failsafe.” Bayne’s voice finally pierced the silence. “That’s what he called me?”
Hep nodded. “But we don’t exactly know what that means.”
Bayne surveyed his ship, his island, his small bubble of paradise. “For as long as I can remember, I’ve been trying to find freedom. I don’t know what that means anymore. To live on my own terms, beholden to no man’s agenda save my own. To wake and sleep as I please. I am king here. I am god here. I can create and destroy at will. But it still feels like a prison. Maybe that freedom I seek doesn’t exist. Or maybe I’m just not meant for this life of rest and relaxation.” He waved his hand and a gust of wind caught the sails. “Come, I’d like to see my ship again.”
2
The bridge of the Royal Blue had gone silent. The crew had taken a collective breath and, burning, held it in their chests until they felt like their lungs would burst. They’d fought off two ships, but if they’d learned anything, it was not to underestimate the foresight of the Void. It must know the importance of Drummond Bayne, the threat he supposedly posed.
Mao laughed at the thought. Of course it was Bayne. The biggest pain in the ass he had ever known was the key to defeating the most powerful enemy he’d ever faced. But he wasn’t mad, despite the sentiment. Drummond Bayne was a relentless pain in the ass because he was just that: relentless. There was no one else on whom Mao would rather stake the fate of the systems.
“Sir?” Delphyne’s tone wiped the smirk from Mao’s face. “There’s…um…” She pointed to the viewport.
Seeing Anisa Delphyne struck dumb started acid bubbling in his gut. Seeing what caused her silence nearly sent him to the floor. Through the viewport, Mao watched the glowing ship sail toward them, straight out of a history book.
“Is that… Is it armed?” Mao felt a wave of heat in his cheeks and on the back of his neck. He felt like a fool, like he was trying to describe a dream to someone before it faded into his memory.
“I’m not reading any weapon signatures,” Akari said. “I’m not reading any power signatures at all. Like it’s not even there.”
“You are all seeing that though, yeah?” Horus said, voice quivering.
No one answered. They all silently hoped for a moment that if they ignored it, the strange sight would fade away, and they could write it off as a collective hallucination. But then they spied three bodies standing on the deck.
“Hey.” Hep’s voice came over the bridge comms, connected to the comm in his helmet. “Mind opening the hangar bay?”
“For what, exactly?” Mao said. “You plan on sailing that…thing into my ship?”
“Your ship?” Bayne’s voice sounded like an echo, coming not from the comms but from everywhere.
A chill ran through Mao’s body. He nodded to Delphyne, who relayed the order to open the hangar bay.
The crew watched as Bayne’s ship sailed toward the Blue, unsure whether to brace themselves for attack or collision. Some had yet to concede they had not gone mad. As the ship neared the open hangar bay, Mao sent Delphyne to greet them.
The XO led Horus, Bigby, and Akari—all well-armed and jittery—through the corridors of the Blue. She stopped them before entering the hangar bay. “Whatever it is we’re about to encounter, just remember, it is our only hope of defeating the Void. You maintain composure. You will not, under any circumstances, open fire on this man.”
“If he still is a man,” Horus said.
“Even if he’s not,” Delphyne said. “We can’t risk harming him, and we certainly don’t want to provoke him.” The specter of Sigurd destroying that fleet with barely an effort hung heavy over them. She met each of their eyes and elicited a silent acknowledgement.
She opened the door.
“Well, look at you,” a familiar voice called. “Thought you’d at least be captain by now. What happened?”
A fire overtook Delphyne, burning through her sense and spurring her to act before she could restrain herself. Her open hand tore across Drummond Bayne’s face. He did not stumble back. He did not react at all, like she had done nothing.
Her hand felt cold.
Bayne laughed, breaking the tense silence. “I think I have my answer.”
She cocked back again, ready to wipe the smile off his face, when Hep stepped in the way. “I get it,” Hep said. “Trust me, I get it.”
Bayne scoffed.
“But we’ve got more important things to do right now. Plus…” Hep made a face full of insinuation. “I’m not sure antagonizing him is a good idea.”
Bayne leaned around Hep. “Because I’m a space god now.” He shrugged. “All very complicated. Lots of science. I’m very powerful.”
Delphyne swallowed a mouthful of disgust and walked away without another word.
Bayne greeted Horus with a wink and nod, to which Horus responded with the same. They may have started on opposite sides, but Horus quickly recognized a kindred spirit in Bayne. Drummond may not have admitted as much, but he liked the large man.
Bayne set his eyes on Akari. He studied her, taking note of the seriousness in her eyes and rigidity in his structure. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“We have not.” Akari did not stop looking straight ahead and gave no inclination that a conversation was forthcoming.
Bayne spoke to Hep out of the corner of his mouth. “She’s one of yours?”
Hep nodded.
“Good for you.”
The comment felt wide open, vague enough to be interpreted in
several ways. Hep chose to take it as a congratulations on forming his own crew and captaining his own ship. It would have been strange for Bayne to say so outright. Hep’s face burned at the realization that he wished Bayne would have said it anyway.
Bayne’s attention quickly drifted away from the group as they moved further into the ship. His eyes lingered on small details, little things that none aside from him likely ever noticed. A nick in the wall, crack in the light fixture, discoloration in a floor panel. Each imperfection meant something to him. Each was a detail in a story that only he knew.
Delphyne took a hard right at the corridor intersection before reaching the bridge. She led them to the war room instead. Bayne seemed to bristle at the unspoken accusation that he was not welcome on the bridge.
Mao entered a moment later. He seemed to have had every intention of entering that room with the full authority of a United Systems Naval Captain, but he froze at the sight of his old commanding officer. He straightened his uniform as though standing at inspection and cleared his throat. His mouth began to form the word captain but quickly changed course before speaking. “Drummond. It’s good to see you.”
Bayne’s jaw clenched. His eyes were unreadable. His stoic expression cracked suddenly as he leapt across the room and wrapped Mao in a hug. “Goddamn it, Taliesin, you are every bit a square as the first day I met you. Don’t ever change.”
Mao looked set adrift, totally lost. He cleared his throat again, catching sight of the equally surprised and amused expressions around the room. He disengaged and took a step back. “Yes, well, okay.” His cheeks flushed as he gestured for everyone to sit.
Hep looked at each person seated around the table, and a rush of nostalgia hit him. He felt like a child again, reading a war story, a fictional account of the old frontier battles, the warlord days, the Rangers. He felt detached from the moment, like he was a fly on the wall of the scene, watching the instant the narrative changed, the story shifted, history being made. This was the moment the heroes mustered themselves and decided how to save the day. Only he was part of it. His head swam.
“Fill me in, then,” Bayne said. “I must admit I’ve been somewhat intentionally out of the loop.”
“I don’t think so,” Mao said.
Bayne leaned back in his chair and narrowed his eyes. “I’m sorry, did you fetch me from my paradise just to catch up? I was led to believe there was some sort of calamity afoot.”
“Let’s talk about that, your paradise.” Mao’s tone was accusatory.
Bayne took note of it. He stood. “I’d just as soon as board my ship and sail right the hell out of here.”
Mao rose to meet him. “Your ship. You sailed here on something that should not exist. Do you expect me to ignore that?”
“I expect you to stop wasting my time.”
“What happened to you?” Mao’s voice had lost some of its edge, blunted by sympathy for an old friend.
Bayne looked past Mao, looked past everyone, through the hull of the ship, and off into infinity. His face emptied of expression like his soul had left his body.
“Incoming from the Mjolnir,” Delphyne said, tending to an alert on the secondary control panel.
Bayne perked up at that. “Mjolnir? That behemoth has been activated?” He looked at Hep and Wilco. “You neglected to mention that.”
“Why does it matter?” Wilco said.
Bayne clenched his jaw, anger flooding the muscles of his face.
“Put it through,” Mao said to Delphyne.
Admiral Klepper’s nasally voice shouted from the other end. “The hell you doing out there? Taking a goddamn vacation?”
“We have the asset,” Mao answered. “We’re on our way back now. ETA ten minutes.”
“May as well turn it around, because we won’t be here in ten minutes.” Fear pierced through the anger in Klepper’s voice. “These goddamn things are like a swarm of locusts. So thick we barely see through it. And once we take them down, I don’t know, they piece themselves back together or some damn thing.”
“I don’t understand,” Mao said.
“What I’m saying is, we can’t kill them. We’re barely holding them off, but that’s the best we can hope for unless your Hail Mary pays off.”
“We’ll be there,” Mao said. “Hold the line. We’ll be there.” The call ended. “Battle stations. Akari, juice the engines as much as you can.”
She shook her head. “We’re already pushing them past their limits. Any more and they could blow.”
Bayne cleared his throat. “I may be able to help with that.”
“Since when are you an engineer?” Delphyne said.
“I’m not.” He flexed his fingers and energy danced across the tips. “But I have recently acquired a new set of skills.”
Delphyne and Mao exchanged a look. They may have intended to have an unspoken conversation, but Bayne had learned to speak that language with them years ago.
“I won’t blow up my ship,” Bayne said with a mischievous smile.
“I’m not worried about your ship,” Mao said, returning the smile. “Just don’t blow up mine.” He nodded to Akari. “Take him. But keep an eye on him.”
“I’ll go with them,” Hep added. He ran after them before anyone could object.
Bayne scoffed. “I don’t need you keeping an eye on me.”
“That’s not what I’m doing,” Hep said. He stared at Bayne’s fingers, hoping to see them light up again.
Noticing the anticipation, and not being one to miss the opportunity to show off, Bayne twitched two of his fingers, sending a spark from one to the other.
“Incredible,” Hep said, filled with childlike wonder. His smile twisted as he remembered that this coin had two sides. “Is this what Sig has? And Ayala?” He studied Bayne’s face, waiting for something to change there as well—a flash of energy, the hollow expression he’d seen on his former friends.
Bayne curled his fingers into a fist. “Can’t say I understand it all that well. But, no, I don’t think they’re exactly the same. I still have a bit of my soul.”
3
He dreamed of a home he didn’t remember. He wasn’t there long enough to have learned its name, to have given it a name. As far as he knew, he was the first to have settled there. He thought of naming it after himself.
Planet Bayne.
It sounded too harsh for such a place. Beautiful beaches. Gently lapping waves. Trees that hung like a thin blanket. Too harsh a name for something so peaceful. Maybe it was an image twisted by time, a portrait drawn from broken memories. Real or not, it was the place he conjured when he tried to think of a place he wouldn’t mind dying. He might even like living there.
It was the second year of the war to unify the systems. The smaller warlords had been pacified, pushing the survivors into the ranks of the remaining few. The following years would be the most brutal. Bayne knew this before those hard years began. He saw them coming. He happened upon this planet during a mission to establish supply routes in the Deep Black. He’d taken the shuttle. He could radio his crew to take off without him, sail back to Central Command and tell the suits who’d assumed operational control of the fight that Drummond Bayne was lost to the wilderness. He would have. Had the call not come to him first.
“Captain,” his comm officer said. “We’ve got incoming from Captain Klepper.”
Bayne groaned. Even the mention of that man on this beach felt like sacrilege. “What does he want?”
He wanted what men like him always wanted: obedience. Central Command deemed the war effort to be moving too slowly for their liking. They needed to establish supply routes now. They needed clear space lanes for that. And they needed to test the new weapons they were chugging out. What better way to honor this sense of urgency than a display of brutal efficiency?
“You need to get back on the ship, now,” the comm said.
Bayne watched the flash from the bridge of the Blue. A white burst of light. Then a sudden rush of
rock. Klepper had successfully deployed the coalition’s newest weapon, something that would allow them to wipe out warlord holdouts without risking ground troops on planets the warlords knew infinitely better. A planet-killer.
Energy saturated the air in the engine room. Hep tasted it on his tongue, like he’d just eaten too much butter. “What are you going to do?”
Bayne stood beside the engine core, hands out like he was warming them by a fire. His eyes were closed. He seemed to be somewhere else, sensing something that no one else could.
“You look at the history of humanity, and it ain’t weapons that had the most impact. It was transportation. The development of these engine cores is what ultimately led to us defeating the warlords. We could move faster, go farther. The battlefield suddenly got smaller for us.” He inhaled like he was standing in a field of wildflowers. A smile broke across his face. “Correct me if I’m wrong, Akari, but we haven’t even tapped their full potential.”
“Correct,” Akari said. “The engine cores can process an extraordinary amount of energy, more energy than we currently have the ability to produce.”
Bayne’s smile widened. “Until now.” He touched the core, treating it with the reverence of a religious idol. Blue streaks lit across his skin, glowing from within. The energy in the air paled to that coming off him now. A force pressed outward from his body, pushing Hep and Akari back. It was a gentle nudge more than a violent shove, but it was tangible.
The streaks were like a road map, all roads leading to Bayne’s hands. Blue light radiated from his fingertips, giving off no heat, no taste, no smell. The process lasted no more than a few seconds, but the intensity of the exchange lingered for minutes. Light danced across Hep’s vision. He couldn’t taste or smell, and there was a ringing in his ears like a chorus of far-off bells.
When he was finished, Bayne fell back onto the floor. Not only had the streaks faded, but so too had the color in his cheeks. His eyes rolled back into his head. A cold sweat beaded on his brow.
The Deep Black Space Opera Boxed Set Page 76
