by David Estes
Vee knew little to nothing about the hypertube system, other than that it could get you across the galaxy in a hurry. “Where does fourteen-g exit?” she asked.
Frank interrupted the A.I. before it could respond. “It’s an express tube to one system. Godstar VII.”
Vee closed her eyes, wishing it had been anywhere else. Godstar VII was where Jarnum was located. The home of the Jackals. Dacre was really going to do this.
“Unless I stop him first,” she growled. “Fire the hyperdrive. We’re going after him.”
“I’ll clean my rocket launcher,” Minnow said.
~~~
“Think we got away in time?” Dacre asked no one in particular. Each of the viewscreens was filled with streaking lights as they rocketed through the hypertube. Their passage was smooth and calm, like being in the eye of a storm while the winds and rain buffeted everything around you.
Yes, Kukk’uk clicked at the same time as Coffee said, “No.”
Dacre looked at Clay Coffee, a man who’d surprised him on more than one occasion in the short time he’d known him. Coffee shrugged. “I’m a pessimist by nature. Plus, I’d rather plan for the worst and hope for the best.”
“Hope,” Dacre said. “Now that’s a word you don’t hear often in this galaxy. Especially from a man who’s just lost everything.”
“Who’s that?”
“You.”
“I’ve got plenty,” Coffee said. “My home was vaporized—so what? It was a bunch of rocks. Yeah, I’d made some wicked improvements, but still…rocks. You ever lived on a rock?”
Dacre shook his head.
“Maybe this is just the kick in the ass I needed. I’ve wanted to leave the Alley for years, but it’s not easy walking away from something you’ve given your entire life to, even if it makes you miserable half the time. And I’m still rich beyond your wildest dreams, son.”
“But all your Vectors…you must’ve had them in a vault squirreled away in the asteroid field somewhere.”
Coffee chuckled. “There is plenty of misinformation about people like me. I’ve got a galactic bank account like any other boring sucker. Not all the banks will deal with a criminal, but most will. Business is business. My Vectors are safe, don’t you worry.”
For some reason, that made Dacre smile.
Warning alarms wiped the expression right off his face.
They tracked our signature, Kukk’uk said. They are accelerating through hyperspace.
“Sometimes I hate being right,” Coffee said. “Ballsy. They must really want to catch you.”
“Yeah,” Dacre said, feeling that familiar mix of excitement and fear. “Guess so.”
Defensive posture? Kukk’uk said.
Dacre shook his head. “No. We run.” The last thing he wanted to do was engage Vee in another battle of magic.
Accelerating in hyperspace is dangerous, Kukk’uk said. If we accidentally exit at the wrong point…
Dacre had been obsessed with all things space-related as a boy. He understood what would happen. This was an express tube, so the only safe exit was located at the end of the line. “We could all be torn apart, half our bodies flung into some random star system while the other half continued through the hypertube. I get it. But we have no other choice. If we fight now, even worse things could happen. We need to get to the end of the line.”
Kukk’uk clicked out a curse but acquiesced, the star-rig picking up speed, billions of stars streaming past on either side.
Behind them, the familiar starship appeared on the viewscreen. It seemed to have sustained some damage to its landing gear, but other than that looked none the worse for wear. Dacre’s heart fluttered.
His eyes widened as he saw the gleam of purple light begin to grow in one of the cannon turrets.
It was coming from the starship’s mage seat. And it was fire.
~~~
Frank shouted, “They’re running, not fighting. If we engage them now, they might return fire.”
“Let them!” Vee yelled back, surrounded by the plush mage seat. She was tired of chasing. Tired of being lied to. Just…tired. She’d already traced a glyph into the mag-cannon’s spellscreen while sipping aura through the straw attached to her chair. Purple fire roiled from the cannon’s barrel as her finger teased the trigger.
Even Petros was on the cat’s side. She’d climbed the ladder and was hanging on, staring at Vee. “He’s right, Verity. We’ll all be destroyed if this turns into a fight. Wait until we’re out of hyperspace. Then fight.”
“Why do you care? This is our chance to save the galaxy, right? Isn’t that what you want? We should do whatever it takes, shouldn’t we? Our lives are forfeit anyway. The Alliance is hunting us—Hole, we stole their starship. Anyway, I’m not planning to hurt them, only slow them down.”
“A capture spell?” Miranda said.
“Do you still believe Dacre is a terrorist needing to be stopped no matter what the consequences?”
Miranda sat there for a moment, seeming to consider the question. “I—I don’t know. He’s a stranger to me now.”
Vee stared at her. This infuriating woman had been yanking her around like a puppet since she first came into contact with her a few days ago. Yet, for the life of her, Vee couldn’t understand what her true motives were.
Vee’s finger depressed the trigger slightly, and she could feel the aura inside her begin to trickle into the cannon. If she squeezed, the trickle would become a flow, a torrent of power that would unleash a powerful spell with the potential to imprison their quarry’s rig.
“Vee…” Miranda said. She hated that this woman was already using her nickname and fullname interchangeably, like she had any right to use either. She hated her own uncertainty, the lack of control she felt over her own future. The aura flowing through her was control.
And yet she knew even that was a deception. For ever since she’d been pierced with that damned aura-tipped Jackal dart back on Maxion, she’d been a slave to the aura, needing it far more than it needed her. It was in control.
She didn’t want to be a slave to anything. Not anymore.
She relaxed her grip on the trigger, and the purple fire diminished before disappearing entirely.
“It’s the right choice,” Miranda said. “See how this plays out.”
Vee glared at her. “I’ll deal with you later,” she said. “Frank, go faster. We’re going to catch that rig before we leave hyperspace. Dock with them if possible. I’m tired of not knowing what is going on or who I can trust. I need to talk to Dacre.” Docking in hyperspace was possible, though laden with risks. The key was reaching a parallel position to the target ship and then matching their speed exactly, down to the decimal point.
Frank seemed to like the idea of a mad chase through hyperspace, while Minnow looked disappointed.
~~~
The purple fire vanished and Dacre released a sigh of relief.
They’re accelerating, Kukk’uk clicked.
“Match them,” Dacre said. They had no choice. If they were caught in hyperspace, they might never reach their goal. Time was no longer of the essence—it was their enemy, an invisible foe counting down to destruction.
Then again, it wasn’t destruction Dacre was worried about.
Kukk’uk didn’t argue. Instead, Dacre felt a noticeable change in their speed, the pace of the streaking stars increasing, streams of light rocketing past. No, Dacre thought. The stars aren’t moving at all. It’s a matter of perspective.
“How long before we exit hyperspace?” Coffee asked.
Kukk’uk said, Twenty minutes, without turning back, his focus flitting between the control ropes and the various viewscreens, particularly the one showing the starship in hot pursuit. They’re gaining on us at at rate of ten kilometers per second. They’ll catch us in ten minutes. We can’t go much faster without compromising control.
“Then I guess they’ll catch us,” Dacre said, feeling surprisingly calm. So this is what it comes dow
n to. It seemed appropropriate that the two women who’d been most important in his life—each for very different reasons—would be the ones to team up against him. “We’ll hang on as long as we can.”
“Great plan,” Coffee said. “I’ll be sure to pat you on the back when we’ve been torn in half by the edges of hyperspace.”
“I’ll pat myself on the back,” Dacre said. “If I have a back. And a hand to pat it. It’s been a pleasure knowing you, Clay Coffee. I hope you have a legal will to protect all those Vectors.”
“I do,” Coffee said. “I’m giving them all to Serenity Hospital on Arcos.”
Dacre raised his eyebrows. “The children’s hospital?”
“My niece spent six long years there.”
Dacre watched the approach of the starship. It had cut the distance in half. “What was wrong with her?”
“Her parents liked to travel. She was stung by a beetle on Corian. Contracted West Corian Fever three days later.”
Oh godstars, Dacre thought. The rare virus burned through the body’s major systems in mere days. Survival rates were less than point-oh-oh-one percent. Poor child. But wait… “You said she spent six years at Serenity.”
“Yes. They were testing a new therapy. We joined the trial. They managed to slow the fever’s progression but could never stop it. On her good days, my niece still got to laugh. On her bad days…well, they made her as comfortable as they could.”
“You…aren’t what I expected.”
Coffee chuckled. “Just because I have a heart doesn’t mean I’m not a scoundrel.” He winked. “And don’t go telling anyone my secrets. I got a soft spot for kids, that’s all.”
“I promise not to tell anyone for the next thirteen minutes, before we are violently dismembered.”
“I appreciate that,” Coffee said.
They’re on us, Kukk’uk said. I think they’re going to try to dock with us.
“Evasive maneuvers,” Dacre said.
~~~
“Woohoo!” Frank whooped, looking much like a strangely attired symphony conductor at the height of a performance as he wrangled the control ropes. They slashed a line directly down the center of the hypertube, maintaining an equidistance on each side. It was the safest path through hyperspace, one that was usually navigated automatically by the starship’s built-in nav-system. As soon as they caught the rig, however, all bets were off.
Right on cue, Layla said, Three kilometers to target. Two. One.
The star-rig, which had seemed so distant for what felt like an eternity, suddenly rushed up to meet them. Frank realized too late what the rig’s pilot was doing—decelerating.
Frank pulled back on one of the ropes to decelerate as well, but the other ship was already accelerating again, pulling away.
Vee’s head snapped forward viciously at the change in speed, her shoulder harness hammering into her skin with enough force to leave bruises.
“Oh, if that’s how they want to play this…” Frank muttered, regaining his position after having tumbled to the floor of the control platform. He pulled the rope hard and they shot forward.
~~~
Left rear thruster is damaged, Kukk’uk said. This ship isn’t made for this. We can maintain hyperspeed given our momentum, but if we slow again, we won’t be able to accelerate.
“What’d she say?” Coffee asked, not having the benefit of a translation implant.
“No more rapid changes in speed,” Dacre said, unstrapping his harness.
“What are you doing?”
“Something I probably shouldn’t.” He stood up, extending his arms to his sides for balance, like a hoversurfer on the tropical island of Proto known for its thirty-meter waves during the winter season. Once he felt somewhat steady on his feet, he ran for the ladder to the rig’s mage seat, almost falling as the tanker lurched to the side. He managed to run in a reasonably straight line, however, grabbing the ladder’s side pole just before the ship rolled in the opposite direction. He hung on for a moment until the ship leveled out.
Then he began to climb.
~~~
“Bastards,” Frank muttered as he tried once more to get around the star-rig. The rig’s pilot slickly angled in front to block them, and Frank was forced to ease back again.
End of the road is six minutes away, Layla said. In case y’all were wonderin’.
“C’mon, Frank,” Vee said. She’d cancelled her previous spell and had traced a new, simpler one with a different purpose altogether. Miranda was crouched beside her, watching. Vee resisted the urge to push her over the side of the ladder.
Frank guided the starship back the other way, but this time slower, more carefully. What is he doing? Vee wondered, watching as the star-rig easily moved to block them. At the last second, however, Frank whipped one of the ropes against the grain while simultaneously pulling down on another and slipping past the corner of the rig. For a moment they were directly side by side, far too close for comfort, but then the star-rig angled further away, moving precariously close to the shimmering edge of the hypertube.
“Should I pursue?” Frank asked.
“Get ahead of them. I’m going to try something.”
“You need wind, something that can only be created in space by an air mage,” Miranda said.
“That’s the last thing I need,” Vee said. The starship began to pull ahead of the rig, which remained half a kilometer away to the starboard side. “A little further, Frank!”
The cat cursed, but not at her. “Incoming!” he yelled.
Vee saw what was happening. The rig had angled back toward them even as they were beginning to pull past it.
A hyperspace collision was imminent.
~~~
“Kukk’uk!” Dacre shouted, but the alien ignored him, fully focused now, pulling one of the ropes in a severe leftward direction, causing the rig to lurch sharply to the side. On one of the viewscreens, the starship loomed closer and closer. It had pulled slightly ahead, but the rear half of it remained parallel to the rig. Even still, the Cir’u’non general accelerated enough to make certain he’d nail his target.
Dacre could picture it in his mind. The heavier, slower star-rig smashing into the latter half of the starship. At this speed, the impact would be cataclysmic, the sleeker starship twisting awkwardly, its own powerful engines and momentum working against it, sending it whipping into a deadly out-of-control spiral.
She’ll be ripped apart, Dacre thought, just before he did something insane.
Coffee shouted something at Dacre as he ripped off his harness and fought to his feet, sliding down the ladder from the mage seat. The only thing that allowed him to keep his balance was the calm space inside the hypertube. Even still, it took his entire body straining to one side to prevent him from tumbling across the floor.
He unsheathed his mag-blade and ran, instincts firing, his thumb tracing a glyph on his spellhilt.
He jumped, his blade cutting through the air, slashing at the rig’s control ropes, which seemed to fight against the blade. Aura flowed through him and into the blade, and the sword sprouted dozens of razor-edged icicles, each cutting and sawing until the ropes fell away. He tumbled into General Kukk’uk, his shoulder slamming into the creature’s jaw. The Cir’u’non soldier’s claws raked against him, but Dacre didn’t care, because the rig had already begun to straighten its path through the tube, almost in the direct center now. As he’d hoped, auto-pilot had engaged automatically when he destroyed the ropes.
As blood ran down Dacre’s face and chest, he looked at the viewscreen, which was full of sleek lines of metal and the Alliance symbol, and the butt-end of the starship, closing fast.
The crash was perhaps a tenth of what it might’ve been, and yet metal shrieked and the rig shook as powerful g-forces turned a minor space fender-bender into something akin to a head-on collision.
Worse, he’d just destroyed the control ropes, their own ship careening on an odd angle that would eventually send them barrelin
g through the wall of the hypertube.
~~~
As she’d watched the massive rig closing in, a dozen scenarios had raced through Vee’s mind. Unfortunately, each one had ended with everyone dead.
However, it was the one scenario she hadn’t considered that occurred. Somehow, the star-rig had slowed up at the last instant, and for a moment she’d thought a collision might be avoided.
It wasn’t to be.
Now their starship was spinning. Miranda was thrown violently over the edge of the ladder, but Vee reached back and grabbed her suit by the collar, her own mage-seat harness stretching in a way it wasn’t meant to be stretched but holding. Holding them both. Miranda’s eyes were wild, a gasp emerging from her lips. “Thank you,” she breathed.
With a hard pull, Vee dragged the Centaurian back onto the platform. “Here,” she said, inching onto one half of the seat and shoving Miranda onto the other half. With one hand, she unclasped half of the harness and Miranda managed to wrangle it around her shoulder and click it together.
Still the starship spun, twice coming within mere meters of colliding with the star-rig, which seemed to be angling toward them once more, albeit more slowly.
“What the Hole is he thinking?” Miranda said, venom in her expression.
“Dead ropes,” Vee said, her suspicions growing more certain with each revolution. If the rig’s intent was to finish them off, a hard hit from the side would do it, casting them out of hyperspace where they’d be ripped to pieces.
“How…” Miranda said, but then she answered her own question at the same time as Vee did. “Dacre.”
The women nodded at each other grimly. It hadn’t been Dacre’s idea to side-swipe them, the rig’s pilot acting unilaterally. But Dacre had tried to stop it, and now the rig was drifting toward them, closer and closer, where eventually it would shove them out of hyperspace, following them a moment later.
“A.I., where’s our exit?” Vee asked.
T-minus three minutes from the off-ramp, as the crow flies.
