by M. R. Forbes
Bullets started hitting the floor nearby, the soldiers recovering and doing their best to get a bead on her. All of the dirt and debris was making it hard to see, and the swirl of stones was intercepting the paths of the rounds. She fought to get to her feet, stumbling from the weakness of her body. Quark was getting up again, coming back for her. Trin was on top of Koy, trying to stab him through a barrier he had erected with his Gift.
“Damn it,” she whispered, at the same time she reached into her tightpack, withdrawing the Font Sample.
She knew if she drank of the Font then Thraven would be able to control her, even over a distance. She needed the strength of it, or she was going to die.
She popped the cap and dumped it into her mouth. It was thick and sweet, denser and less foul than Elivee’s blood had been. She could only imagine how many naniates were in the sample. Billions? Trillions?
The effect was immediate. It burned her going down, a feeling that spread across her body before contracting into her stomach. The poison faded, absorbed by the massive influx of the Gift, her body healing within seconds.
Quark stood over her. He pulled the trigger again, firing toward her forehead.
The bullet stopped, the tip of it touching her skin.
Then it reversed course, a perfect ricochet that slammed back into the barrel and tore the weapon from Quark’s armored hand. He cried out in shock but didn’t hesitate, bringing his foot forward to step on her.
She caught it, turning him and throwing him up and over. He somersaulted in the air, landing on his feet behind her, bringing a knife from his calf and flinging it at her. She pivoted, rising and catching it. The blade didn’t pierce the demonsuit, and she drew it back and returned the weapon, firing it at the bounty hunter.
Quark deflected it with his forearm, charging toward her, a smile on his face. He led with a quick series of punches, and her hands shifted to match them, knocking them aside as she fell back a step.
The debris continued to swirl, the field growing tighter, creating a barrier around the two of them and Trinity and Koy. Abbey spared a glance to the Venerant, finding his head was already removed, Trin kneeling beside him. A moment later, she sprang into and through the tornado. Abbey could hear the rounds going off beyond the wall, and the shouts that followed as Trinity tore into the soldiers, her rhodrinium hide protecting her from all but the most powerful ballistics.
“It’s over, Quark,” Abbey said, smacking his arm aside and getting her fist past his defenses, slamming him in the chest and knocking him three meters back.
Again, he somehow managed to land on his feet. He had been in fights against a much stronger opponent before.
“Not until I’m dead,” Quark replied. He grabbed at his calves again, firing four knives at her in rapid succession. She caught all of them with the Gift, holding them in the air.
“I could kill you with these,” she said.
“Go ahead and try.”
She threw the weapons back. Impossibly, Quark found a path around them, diving toward her, spinning in midair, his custom battlesuit firing vectoring thrusters and adjusting his path. He caught her by surprise, coming in hard with a heavy fist.
She still managed to turn away from it, catching it and letting its energy work in her favor. She pulled him forward, twisting the arm and leading him to the ground, rolling him over and dropping her knee onto his unprotected neck.
“You should have worn a helmet,” she said, shoving it down on his trachea.
He was still smiling. Still laughing. “I want you so bad,” he said.
“To kill me?”
“No, but a job’s a job, Cage. It’s not personal.”
She realized that was why the Light hadn’t done anything to him. He wasn’t corrupt. He really was just doing his job.
“You’re not in a good position to kill me.”
She let go of the debris around them, dropping it like a curtain. Trinity was on the right side of the hangar, cutting down another of Quark’s team.
“Do you want them all to die?” Abbey said.
Quark saw his Riders dying. “No,” he said. “Damn it. Make it stop.”
“Trinity,” Abbey said. “Hold up.” She kept her eyes on Quark. “Tell your crew to stand down.”
“Stand down,” Quark said. “All units. Stand down. Drop your weapons.”
The Riders did as they were told, guns falling from their hands.
“Well, frag, Cage,” Quark said, looking up at her. “Now what?”
“Sixteen, forty-three, twelve point six, four, eighteen, twenty-six point seven.”
“Huh?” the bounty hunter replied.
“The coordinates to the Devastator. I wasn’t lying to you, and now that you’re the one on the wrong side of the fight maybe you’ll believe me. Find the ship, check the logs. One of mine killed the Devastator’s Captain, but she was a traitorous bitch, and I killed her back at the crater. Get the data, show it to your boss. When you’re done, if you want another job, find General Sylvan Kett or find me. I trust someone like you can do it.”
He smiled. “What’s the pay like?”
“There isn’t any. But you’ll have a chance to help me save the galaxy from a bigger asshole than Koy.”
Quark pointed to her knee on his throat. She removed it, allowing him to stand. He adjusted his collar and glanced over at the decapitated Venerant.
“I never did like that shithead much. Fine. I’ll go and check it out, though I expect you’re being straight with me. Don Pallimo is going to be pissed when he finds out Thraven lied to him.”
“Good. Have the Don contact me, too. Maybe we can work something out. We could use his resources.”
“Sure thing, Cage. You’re a real demon, you know?”
“So I’ve been told.”
“It isn’t a bad thing. Hot as hell, if you ask me.” He turned away, surveying what was left of his Riders. “All right you lazy shits. Let’s collect our fallen and get the frag out of here. Our work is done.”
The soldiers organized quickly, passing Trinity as they began picking up the individuals she had slaughtered.
“Quark, is the Shrike compromised?” Abbey asked.
He laughed. “Of course. I can disarm it for you.”
A rumble from outside drew her attention. Abbey bounced to the now open hangar entrance, looking up and out into the gray sky. Koy might be dead, but Thraven’s ships were still up there, his fighters still giving chase to the Rejects as they came to rescue her.
The shuttle broke out of the clouds a moment later, dropping quickly toward the surface. A pair of black Shrikes were harassing it, and another starfighter was behind them, trying to get a bead. Wayward rounds began hitting the side of the Fire as the shuttle dove, barely avoiding the attacks.
Abbey raised her hands. The Gift was so strong within her now, and it left her both elated and frightened. She had the Serum, but the Light didn’t want her to use it. Why? She was already changing, and she would only change faster with so many of the Nephilim’s naniates in her system.
She couldn’t worry about that now. Her friends needed her. She pushed out with the Gift, a wave of it that slammed into the two Shrikes trailing the shuttle. They seemed to shred apart in mid-air, bits and pieces breaking away in a trail of debris as they lost control, spinning wildly before slamming into the side of the Fire in a pair of fireballs. The rear starfighter pulled up in response, circling the downed starship.
“Queenie,” Trinity said. “Quark has disarmed the Shrike.”
“I’ve got a ride,” Abbey replied. “Follow us up and out.”
“Roger.”
The shuttle reached her eye level, coming to a quick stop only a meter ahead. She could see Bastion through the viewport, smiling and waving at her.
She smiled and waved back.
46
“Queenie,” Pik said, a massive smile on his massive face. “It’s good to see you again.”
“You too, Okay,” Abbey rep
lied, climbing into the shuttle. She hurried to the cockpit, dropping into the seat beside Bastion. “Imp, get us out of here.”
“Oh, hey, Queenie,” Bastion said. “Long time, no see.”
“Screw the pleasantries, there still two warships up there and I don’t want to get stranded here again.” She glanced over at him, smiling. “I especially don’t want to be stuck here with you.”
He laughed as the shuttle lifted away from the Fire. A dark Shrike streaked out of the hangar beside them, rising into the clouds.
“What the hell?” Bastion said.
“Ease up. She’s with me.”
“Who?”
“You’d never believe it. Make sure the others know.”
“Inception Team, the package is delivered,” Bastion said through the comm. “ And we’ve got a new friendly. A black Shrike, marking it now.”
“Roger,” Phlenel said.
Abbey glanced at the shuttle’s HUD. Trinity and Phlenel were the only two ships nearby.
“I take it you started out with more than one?”
“Fragging Thraven. They knocked out eight of our starfighters like they were flying bricks.” He glanced over at her again. “What happened to you down there? You look different. Besides the hair, I mean.”
“It’s a long story, and I don’t want to talk about it right now. Just get us back to the mothership in one piece.”
“Roger. Sorry, Queenie. I’m sure it hasn’t been easy for you.”
The shuttle continued to rise, clearing the clouds and reaching the upper atmosphere. Abbey could see the fighting above them, where Thraven’s two warships were pounding the lone Republic battleship.
“I thought we were screwed when that other one de-cloaked,” Bastion said. “But it just sat there and watched. It looks like it’s gone now.”
“Quark’s ship. We came to an understanding.”
“What kind of understanding?”
“Not the usual kind. We talked it out.”
Bastion laughed. “You’re right. That is new. Gant, what’s your status?”
“We’re updating our course to grab you on the way by, but we’re in bad shape,” Gant replied. “I can’t even list all of the systems that are offline, and I had to punch out Davlyn to keep him from ordering the retreat. By the way, good to have you back, Queenie. Assuming we don’t all die out here.”
“It’s good to be back,” Abbey said. “And we aren’t going to die.”
“You know something I don’t?”
“Yes.”
Abbey could feel the Gift burning within her, but now she could also feel it swirling beyond, a maelstrom of naniates following them back into space, keeping pace with their host. She locked her eyes on the Nephilim warships, her fury amplified by her adrenaline. She could sense the Gift responding to her, teleporting away from the shuttle to where she wanted them to be.
Enemy Shrikes were closing in on them. Bastion rocked the shuttle, altering vectors to avoid their fire as they approached. Phlenel and Trinity peeled away, each of them laying down return fire that tore through three of the enemy ships before they had a chance to realize they were in the crosshairs. The others adjusted course, taking evasive action and working to circle back.
“Wow, your friend is good,” Bastion said.
“Get us to the battleship,” Abbey said.
“Doing it.”
The Gift had reached the Nephilim ships, split between the two. Subconsciously, she felt as though she could sense every individual machine, trillions and trillions of them like points of light in her mind. They were a collective of sorts. A hierarchy that started with her and ended with the lowest of them all, infinite branches extending from her root. She pushed her hands out at the enemy ships, sending her will to the first two naniates. The orders rippled through the ranks and the Gift extended itself, small enough to easily slip through the web of energy that composed the shields, small enough to find a path through the armor of the hull. Trillions of flares of energy rose up as one massive burst, cutting a hole in the warships that tore through their main thrusters, creating a reaction of detonations that broke the back of the ships and left them unable to increase their velocity.
Abbey threw her head back, crying out at the effort. The Gift could sense her weakness, and it tried to seize control. She fought back against it, cursing and growling, her teeth extending into points, her hands turning into claws. She screamed like an animal.
Like a demon.
“You are mine!”
Then it passed. Her head rolled forward, her body returning to normal. She didn’t see the shuttle slipping into the High Noon’s hangar, or the two starfighters joining it a moment later. She didn’t see how the Republic battleship pulled away from the critically damaged warships, finally escaping their assault.
She stared at the flat surface of the cockpit in front of her. Her heart pounded. Her eyes teared. Her body hurt.
“Queenie?” Bastion said, unbuckling himself and crouching over her. “Queenie.”
Her hand shot out, wrapping itself around his neck. She turned, teeth extending again, her voice a feral snarl.
Bastion’s eyes widened, and he grabbed her wrist, struggling to escape her grasp. Then Pik was there, adding his strength, wrenching her hand away.
“Queenie?” the Trover said. “What’s going on?”
She snarled at him, too. She didn’t want to, but she couldn’t stop it. She couldn’t think straight. She couldn’t focus. “Leave me here,” she managed to say.
“What?” Bastion replied. “Queenie, you need help. Medical.”
“Leave me.” She grabbed the seat to keep from trying to seize him again. She was losing herself, the way Thraven had warned. She had taken too much, used too much. “Lock the door.”
“Like that will hold you,” Bastion said.
He did it anyway, closing the cockpit hatch behind her, fleeing the shuttle and moving out onto the hangar floor.
Abbey fell onto the ground, fighting to concentrate. Her body was hers. Her mind was hers. She reached for the Serum. She needed to stop it now before it got any worse.
A bright, white light filled her vision, overwhelming her. She fell onto her back, unable to move.
“What do you want me to do?” she whispered. “Damn it; I can’t help you like this.”
The white light faded to darkness.
47
Gloritant Thraven rested on the bridge of his flagship. For the moment, he was as calm as he ever allowed himself to be. All of the pieces were nearly in place. All of the seeds nearly ready to bear fruit. Only a few loose ends remained, and he was confident they would be resolved soon.
“Gloritant, we have an incoming communication from Evolent Ruche,” Honorant Lu said.
“Put it through,” Thraven said.
The Evolent’s projection appeared at the front of the bridge. He dropped to his knee at the sight of Thraven.
“Gloritant,” he said. “Captain Mann was able to defeat our defenses and capture Councilwoman Lorenti.”
Thraven’s rare sense of peace began to crumble. He put up his hand, turning Ruche’s Gift cold. “What?”
“Your Eminence,” Ruche said, shivering from the sudden freeze. “Can you say you are surprised?”
Thraven released the Gift, settling back and smiling. “No, I can’t say I am. What are you doing about it, Evolent?”
“We have Cage’s daughter. I made a deal with him. Lorenti for the girl. Your plan will go forward as expected.”
“Will it? Do you guarantee it, Ruche?”
Ruche glanced up from his kneeling position. “Yes, Gloritant.”
“It had better. We need our individuals in control of the Republic, not some incorruptible puppet Prime.”
He shook his head in annoyance at the head of the Republic. He had tried to keep things simple and gain control of the Prime, but the Terran had resisted every effort. Killing him was out of the question. It was too obvious, especially in lig
ht of the other officials he had already removed.
“It will, Gloritant,” Ruche insisted. “And when Olus comes for Miss Cage, as we both know he will, I’ll be waiting for him.”
“He’s going to be expecting you. And he’s not going to play the exchange straight.”
“Neither will we,” Ruche said. “I’ve prepared a special gift for the Captain. One that I’m sure is going to knock him off his A-game no matter how he tries to double-cross us.”
Thraven wasn’t sure what the Evolent meant, but he didn’t ask. Ruche had never let him down before. Even so, he needed to be sure the Lesser knew the stakes. “If you fail me, Evolent,” he said.
“I don’t fail,” Ruche replied. “After Mann is taken care of, what do you want me to do with the girl?”
“Cage’s daughter? How is her demeanor?”
“She’s just like her mother. She broke one of the Agitant’s arms before we restrained her. I should mention, we were forced to kill her father.”
“He’s of no consequence. Once Mann is dead, send Hayley Cage to me. If she has the same temperament as her mother, perhaps she has the same aptitude for the Gift. How satisfying would it be to turn Cage’s daughter against her?” He closed his eyes, imagining the pleasure of the scenario. “If not, I can dispose of her just as easily.”
“Yes, your Eminence.”
“Contact me as soon as the vote is completed, and Mann is out of the equation,” Thraven said.
“Yes, Gloritant.”
Thraven dropped the link. He began to relax, visualizing himself training Cage’s daughter in the use of the Gift. He could almost taste the perfection. The Father would be pleased with that outcome.
“Gloritant, another communication is incoming. Venerant Koy.”
