Dropping into the pilot’s chair, Boyd checked the drive systems and navigation. Everything was ready to go.
Boyd stepped back from the pilot’s chair. If he was going to run this ship singlehandedly, he would need to run it from the command chair. The chair overlooked the entire flight deck and he could access all systems from the holo-display on the armrests.
Boyd looked up at the command chair.
“Don’t be hesitant.”
Boyd looked to the sound of the voice. Thresh was leaning in the entrance. She was wearing a fresh Faction trooper uniform. It was slightly too big for her.
“You are up and about then, are you?” Boyd said, stating the obvious. “You sure you are fit enough?”
Thresh pushed herself off the bulkhead and walked slowly across the flight deck to the engineering station.
“I’ll survive. Not sure if the ship will, if I let you run her by yourself.”
The Odium Fist was designed to be crewed by a small flight crew of half a dozen. It was possible to run it with fewer, but it was never intended to be operated by a single person, no matter how skilled.
“I’ll take over at engineering and make sure the reactor behaves itself.”
Boyd looked up at the command chair. “Like it ever does that. It’s about time it was swapped out for a new one.”
“Might as well scrap the entire ship,” Thresh said. “The core is the ship.”
“Spoken like a true engineer,” Boyd said.
“I’m ready when you are,” Thresh said, taking her position at the engineering console.
“I’m ready,” Boyd said. He stepped up onto the plinth that the command chair sat on and took a deep breath.
Sitting down, Boyd instantly felt at ease. The chair gave him a commanding view of the flight deck. Everything seemed within reach. He activated the holo-displays on both armrests. A holographic flight console slid across in front of him. He tapped it experimentally.
As he hit the holo-display, he saw the corresponding panel light up on the actual flight console down on the deck—his usual position on the ship.
“Reactor symmetry is optimal. Drive field ready. She’s all yours, Boyd.” Thresh looked up.
Boyd accessed the thruster controls. “I’m going to stabilize the ship, and then make the maneuver to orbit.”
He tapped at the holo-controls, satisfied that every move made the ship respond as if he was in the pilot’s seat. It was possible to take control of the entire ship from here, but he could only do one thing at a time. Shrunk away to the side of the holographic console was the weapons console, then the defensive systems, then communications. The display could be swapped for another system with a swipe of the hand. Boyd could swap from flight to weapons in a moment. He focused on steadying the Fist.
With a few blasts of the thrusters, the Fist stopped tumbling. She was oriented with the wind direction, her nose pointing upward slightly.
“Preparing for maneuver to orbit,” Boyd said.
“Ready when you are,” Thresh said.
Boyd looked down at Thresh in her oversized trooper’s uniform. She was becoming someone special to him. It was not just her ability, he found her dark eyes and her light, short hair irresistible. She was fun, exciting, creative, and mischievous. He almost forgot she was the enemy.
Since Boyd had entered the Faction as an undercover operative, he had met many surprising people. Most in the Faction were just ordinary people, born in a settlement so far from the seat of Union power that they naturally fell under the Faction’s control. They were average Joes, no different to the miners, farmers, or engineers of Terra or Supra.
The Faction raider crews were a different breed. They were all pirates and criminals, brought into the Faction under the influence of Kitzov. They were no different to the criminals that operated in the Union, but in the Faction, they were given legal standing—to raid Union ships, to bring in plunder, to destabilize the Union. They were hard-edged pirates and killers, and instruments of a developing Faction state.
As a Blue Star Marine, Boyd had more in common with the pirates than the civilians. He found them amusing at times. They knew how to party, and Boyd had found ways to enjoy himself in their company, even though he always knew he was there to end their way of life.
But Thresh… Enke Thresh. She was like no one else he had ever met. She was, he struggled to admit to himself, wonderful. If he could destroy the Faction, he would…but if he could save one small part of it, he would save her.
“Ready when you are, Boyd,” she said again, as firmly as she could.
Boyd hit the drive and the Fist moved upward through the clouds of Extremis. The display above the main holo-stage showed the Fist’s ascent. She burst out of the top cloud layer and fell into a high orbit.
An alarm sounded somewhere deep in the ship. Boyd checked his systems, flicking through all the holo-consoles in front of him.
“I’ve got it,” Thresh said, “It’s a secondary conduit in the main trooper locker. Shutting it down now.”
“This ship is falling apart,” Boyd said as he accessed the navigation controls. “I’m setting a course for the belt. Hopefully, we can pick up some traffic and get this ship towed to a Faction port.”
“Yes, a Faction port,” Thresh said. She looked up at him. “You wouldn’t prefer a Union port, would you?”
Boyd ignored her, but he saw out of the corner of his eye that she was looking right at him.
“No.” He smiled. And he meant it. If the Fist was picked up by a Union ship, he would be okay. He could reveal his true identity in moments and would be among friends, but Thresh was Faction, and currently wearing a trooper’s uniform. She would either be shot on sight or more likely captured, interrogated, and then hanged.
Boyd recalled moments when Thresh had made comments to him about the Union. She had almost discovered him in communication with Major Featherstone a couple of times, but he was sure it had only been close. If she had discovered him, he had no doubt she would have turned him over to the Faction. She was dangerous. Maybe that was why he liked her so much.
An undercover operative was a job for someone who had a tolerance for danger. Maybe an attraction to it. His brother had never been a Blue Star. He had been a regular Marine—a straight-laced, stand up, Marine lieutenant. He had been a straight-A student, a debate club leader, wilderness expert. He’d even taught kids curveball in the summer. He had been a servant of the Union, a true patriot doing his duty.
When he had been killed, Boyd had felt the need for revenge. He had no time for kiddy sports or hiking trips, he wanted to get down and dirty, infiltrate and kill. He became accustomed to the danger. Maybe, he was afraid, he liked it.
But Thresh. She made things complicated. She was too close to the leader of the Faction. The leader had known her since she was a child. She was too pretty to be Faction. Too clever to be a pirate. Too much of a friend to be a danger to him. But she was the greatest danger.
“Setting course for the belt.” Boyd laid in the most direct route. A day’s run, in a fast ship. He didn’t know how long the Fist would be able to run before a system gave out. Maybe the reactor would blow before they even left the Extremis gravity well.
“If we do run into the Union, we’ll never fight them off just the two of us,” Thresh said. “I can set the reactor to blow.”
“What about the self-destruct?” Boyd asked. He looked at the small panel in the side of the armrest where all raiders had the self-destruct control.
“It is still bio-locked to Poledri. You need to be captain to have control of that,” Thresh said.
Boyd looked across the flight deck. “I am captain,” he said.
“You think you are my captain?” Thresh said with a cheeky look. “You are only up there because I’m better at this station than you, and like I said, the core is the ship. If anything, Will, I am the captain of you.”
He looked down at her. She was smiling, her dark eyes sparkling with a misc
hievous wit.
“I guess so,” Boyd said.
After a moment, she leaned heavily on the console. He saw her head drop and her legs quiver. He jumped down from the command chair and dashed over to her, catching her before she fell.
“Gravity fluctuation?” Boyd asked.
“Maybe,” Thresh said. “Feeling dizzy. I took more of a beating on Kalis than I thought.” She slipped down to the deck and sat against the console.
Boyd sat next to her. “You okay?”
“I’ll be okay in a moment. Get back to work. I’m fine here. Just let me rest for a moment.”
Boyd brushed the hair from her face. She looked pale. She looked up and smiled at him.
“Don’t let the Union take me,” she said, looking up into his eyes.
Boyd shook his head. “You’ll be alright,” he said. He stood up and stepped away, back toward the command chair.
She looked up briefly and waved him away.
“Go. Work. I’m fine.”
Boyd climbed back up into the command chair. The Fist was hurtling across space at terrific speed. He checked the communication channels for any transmissions in the region. Someone to reach out to, or someone to avoid. But there was nothing, not even a relay drone transmitting a regular guidance ping.
“It’s very quiet out here.” He looked down at Thresh. She nodded weakly.
“Good,” she said.
The Fist’s heading held true, the drive field holding strong and steady. The holo-stage showed the distance to the belt. Far away to the starboard side, many astro-units away, was the gas giant Supra. It was far enough away that the Fist could slip by. The last place a Faction raider wanted to be was anywhere near Supra. Faction ships would often rise a billion kilometers above the ecliptic to avoid passing that Union stronghold.
A ship appeared on the display. Boyd zoomed in. A Faction ship was closing in. Boyd prepared a standard Faction greeting, but the signal failed to transmit.
As the ship got closer, he could see the Faction vessel was one he recognized, the only one of its kind.
It was the Silence.
“Hey, Thresh. Good news,” Boyd said. “It’s your old friend, Kitzov.
Thresh climbed up to her feet, looking a little stronger after her short rest.
“Really. The Silence?”
“Yes. No communication. We can’t send or receive, but they’ve seen us and are making straight for us. I’m adjusting our heading to rendezvous with them.”
Boyd watched as the Silence closed in. The last time he had seen the ship was at the Battle of Kalis LZ when it had blasted off in the middle of a fight with a Union attack group. Boyd had called the Union to Kalis to arrest Kitzov, but the appearance of the Skarak had turned the moon into a chaotic scramble between Faction, Union, and Skarak forces. It was a surprise to Boyd that any ships had escaped.
The Silence slowed and came alongside the Fist. A soft dock corridor extended out and connected with the Fist’s main airlock.
Boyd powered down. A request from the Silence flight deck came the moment soft dock was achieved. All flight controls were transferred instantly to the Silence.
“Is that normal procedure?” Boyd said.
Thresh had slipped back to the deck and was drifting in and out of consciousness.
Boyd heard the footsteps on the corridors of the Fist. He counted a dozen or more. He climbed down from the command chair and turned to greet the approaching group.
Captain Poledri turned the end of the corridor first and came into the long corridor to the flight deck. He wore a dark expression that crumpled the scar over his eye. Behind him came Jemmy Noland and then behind them a group of six Faction troopers, all armed with pulse rifles. From their uniforms, Boyd could tell they were from Kitzov’s own company.
“Captain,” Boyd said brightly as Poledri marched up to him. “She’s all yours.”
Boyd saw the swift movement and knew danger. Poledri pulled something out of his jacket and began to raise it.
Boyd instinctively backed off, looking for cover from the weapon, but Poledri had moved in and moved fast.
The pulse from the pistol slammed into Boyd’s chest and sent him sprawling. The pulse rippled over his body, making his muscles quiver. His legs collapsed under him and he hit the deck hard.
His muscles wracked with pain, Boyd attempted to regain his feet. But his muscles would not respond. At least he knew he was alive. He saw a shape move toward him. His vision was blurred, and he couldn’t make out who it was until the smell hit him. It was unmistakably Noland.
He felt himself pulled up by the front of his jacket. He could just make out the contorted features of the quite ugly Noland. He was snarling in Boyd’s face, his teeth gripped in a snarl, practically frothing at the mouth.
“Kravin scroat,” Noland said.
Boyd felt the punch land on the side of his face, sending him sprawling back to the deck.
As he lay crumpled on the deck, he felt the blow to his abdomen. He realized it was from a boot, delivered hard, probably from Noland.
Blows rained in from all sides. Over the grunting and snarling of the troopers laying into him, he heard Thresh’s weak voice.
“What are you doing? He saved the ship. He saved me. Leave him or I’ll speak to Kitzov and give him all your names.”
“We are here under orders from Kitzov.”
Boyd heard Poledri’s voice.
“Kitzov sent us,” Poledri said. “Do you know who this is?”
“Will Boyd,” Thresh said. “It’s Boyd.”
“Sergeant Will Boyd,” Poledri corrected her. “Sergeant Will Boyd of the Blue Star Marines.” Poledri punctuated each word with a heavy kick to Boyd’s abdomen.
Boyd squirmed under the fierce blows, certain the beating would not end until he was dead.
“You know who the Blue Star Marines are, don’t you?” Poledri asked Thresh. “They are the Union’s Marine special operations battalion. He’s a kravin spy bastard, and he’s been here with us for months.”
“No,” Thresh said. Boyd could hear her voice breaking with emotion.
“Yes, a spy. And I’ve just spent the last few hours convincing Kitzov I’m not working with him.”
Boyd felt another blow, a punch to his head, and then Poledri come close, snarling in his ear.
“If it was up to me, I’d kill you, nice and slow, take you apart piece by little piece, painfully, keeping you alive for as long as possible, making sure you are conscious when I airlock your kravin spy ass. But Kitzov has another plan for you. Get him on his feet.”
Boyd felt himself lifted. The low-yield pulse round was wearing off and now he could feel the site of every punch and kick the troopers had landed on him.
Then he felt a pulse round strike him in the back and his blurred vision drifted to black.
8
“Don’t deny it,” Kitzov said. “Just answer my questions and I’ll promise you it’ll be quick in the end. What was your mission?”
“I’m no spy,” Boyd said.
Boyd sat chained to a metal desk that was bolted to the deck. His chair, a low shelf, also bolted down. His hands were bound behind his back, his feet bound together.
Kitzov paced the small room.
Kitzov drew a small holo-generator from his pocket. He pointed it at the table and displayed a holo-file.
Although his vision was still blurry, Boyd could see it was his crew report from the Resolute. In his Blue Star uniform with short hair, a clean shave, and a serious expression, he looked just like his brother.
“So what? That was ages ago. I left the Union after I killed my instructor. It was the Faction or the noose for me.”
“I thought you were the son of an ice farmer, out in the Sphere. Father killed by the Union. You really need to keep your story straight.”
“I cooked up that cover. I tell you, I killed my instructor, Lieutenant Crippin. I was at the Marine training camp on Terra and got in a fight. I stabbed him th
rough the chest. I ran. Stole a mini transit unit and headed for the belt. I knew I could hide out in the Faction. And I knew that if I told anyone I’d come from Terra, I’d be ripped apart.”
Kitzov sat in the chair opposite Boyd.
“You went through Marine training? You were at Forge Farm?”
Boyd dropped his head. “Yes, I was going to be a special operations Marine.” He looked up. “But I got out. I had to. If you kill me now, it’ll be no different than if I’d stayed in the Union. All I wanted was to be free.”
“I want to believe you, Boyd, but you are lying. I thought I was getting to like you, but I hate a liar. I was suspicious when you gained access to the Union facility on Kalis. No one else knew about that place. How come you did?”
“I got lucky.”
“No, Boyd, you were unlucky. No one in the Faction knew about that facility and we’ve been landing on Kalis for years. Your first visit and you find one of the best-hidden Union facilities in the outer system.”
“All I was doing was my best to save us from the Skarak attack. We would have all been killed or captured. You saw what the Skarak do to those they capture. For me, that’s worse than death. I was just trying to save us all from that horror.”
Kitzov rubbed his chin, his thick stubble scraping under his fingers. He looked Boyd up and down, apparently trying to decide if he believed his story or not.
“I have got Enke Thresh out there insisting you couldn’t be Union. She’s begging me to let you go. I have known Enke since she was a kid. I know she’s Faction through and through, and I know she is no fool. If she says you are good, then I want to believe her. I think she likes you, to be honest. She is still pretty beat up from the Battle at Kalis LZ, but all she can talk about is you.”
“I like her too,” Boyd said. “I wouldn’t do anything to hurt her.”
“I hope not. But if it turns out you are Union, some might say you had help. Some might say little Enke is complicit. I might have to shoot her in the head too.”
Invasion (Blue Star Marines Book 3) Page 6
