by M. R. Forbes
Then whose gear was it?
“Queenie, you with us?” Bastion said, shaking her arm.
Abbey looked at him, snapping out of her internal monolog. “What?”
“Hail to the Demon Queen,” he said, smiling. “We’re here.”
Abbey finally noticed the shuttle was inside the Destructor’s hangar. The other Rejects were all on their feet, waiting for her to stand, too.
“If you’ll disembark,” Nilin said, moving into the back. “I will head back to retrieve the Captain. Once he’s on board, we’ll transfer you to your ship. Commander Pellem will meet you on the deck.”
“Roger,” Abbey said. “Pik, grab the locker.”
“On it, Queenie.”
“You can leave your weapons and gear outside,” Nilin said. “I expect you’ll have the courtesy not to bring it into the populated areas.”
“Of course,” Abbey said.
The shuttle’s hatch opened, and they made their way off. A Skink was waiting for them there, a female dressed in intersecting layers of tightly wound and brightly colored cloth.
“Commander Pellem?” Abbey guessed.
A tri-forked tongue skipped out from the Skink’s mouth, slipping along the lips to moisten them. “Confirmed,” she replied. Her small eyes landed on the Hell brand. “Interesting.”
“Pellem, show our guests to the mess,” Nilin said. “They can wait for the Captain there.”
“Aye, Adjunct,” she said. She looked over at the rest of the Rejects, a hint of amusement rippling across her scaly face. “Quite a collection.”
“We do our best,” Abbey said.
“Follow me.”
They dropped their equipment where Nilin had pointed and trailed behind Pellem, out of the hangar and into a wide corridor. There were other crew members present, moving from one place to another on the ship. It didn’t take long for Abbey to notice that none of them were human.
“The Haulers don't like Terrans?” Abbey asked, curious.
“Excuse me?”
“I noticed there are no humans onboard. I admit we haven’t seen much of the ship or the crew yet, but standard rosters are eighty percent homo sapiens or more.”
“A keen eye. No Crescent humans on the Destructor. Captain doesn’t approve.”
“Why not?”
“Unreliable.”
“What do you mean?”
“Terrans are unreliable. Accustomed to being above. Use status to do less.”
“You tell it, sister,” Pik said from the back.
Abbey looked back at him.
“What? You did notice I’m the one dragging the locker around, right?”
“You did notice you’re three times the size of any of us, right?” Abbey replied.
“I’m just saying.”
“Who saved your life on Drune?”
Pik laughed. “Yeah, but you aren’t human. Not exactly. Not anymore.”
Abbey paused. He was right, even if his presentation of the facts sucked.
“Not human?” Pellem asked.
“Long story,” Abbey replied, matching the Skink’s verbal pattern. “Rough week.”
“That’s the understatement of the eon,” Benhil said. “If we can go ten hours without being shot at or nearly killed, I’ll be a very happy man.”
“Fugitives, yes,” Pellem said. “Republic wants you. Saw it on the Milnet.”
“Have access to the Milnet?” Abbey asked.
“Haulers have access to everything. A web of trust. Do not concern. Will not tell.” She hissed and stuck out her tongue, a sound Abbey’s translator told her was equivalent to a smile.
“I heard we’re going to the mess. What kind of grub do you have on this boat?” Benhil asked. “Seeing as how there are no Terrans on board.”
“Many good things,” Pellem said. “Baked Skaluve Worms. Drugrum from Ganemant. Fizzig Al’kappa stew.”
“I’ve never heard of any of that,” Bastion said.
“Me neither,” Benhil said. “Worms? Gross. Drugrum? Sounds like something that comes out of my backside.”
“The stew might be decent,” Airi said.
“I’ve had Al’kappa stew,” Erlan said. “It isn’t.”
“Heh, you guys,” Pik said. “Different papillae for different species.”
“Papillae?” Bastion said.
“Taste buds,” Abbey said.
“Where the hell did you learn a word like papillae?” Bastion asked.
“Just because I’m a Trover doesn’t mean I’m uneducated.”
“Yeah, it usually does. Your kind isn’t known for its STEM aptitude.”
“Frag you.”
“I bet you saw it on a stream somewhere,” Benhil said. “Didn’t you?”
“No,” Pik replied. Then he smiled. “Yes.”
“Ha. I knew it.”
“Do not worry,” Pellem said. “Have cook synth.”
They entered the Destructor’s mess. There were seven or eight tables inside, most of them empty. A pair of Skinks were sitting in the center of the room, while a single Curlatin was at the table in the corner, his back to them.
“How may I serve you?” the synth asked, walking over to them. Like all synths, it had a human form. It appeared to be an older model, the synthetic flesh slightly worn and rubbery.
“Do you have anything good to eat?” Benhil asked.
“Something that won’t repulse human papillae?” Bastion added.
“Our inventory of Terran sourced dishes is limited,” the synth replied. “We do have a small supply of standard nutrient rations, if that is acceptable.”
“It figures,” Bastion said. “We’ve been off of Hell for what, four weeks now? I still haven’t had anything to eat but fragging nutrient bars.”
“They’re good for you,” Abbey said.
“Easy for you to say, Queenie,” Benhil said. “You’re eating them like you’re preggers.”
“Sometimes I feel like I’m eating for two million.”
“Hey, Cookie,” Pik said. “I’ll take the Al’kappa.”
“Of course, sir. Coming right up.”
“Make it two,” Airi said, drawing a look of curiosity from Pik. “What? My mother said never to say no to anything unless you’ve tried it.”
“Have you ever been with a Trover?” Pik asked.
“No,” Airi replied. “But I don’t do everything my mother says.”
“Smooth, Pik,” Bastion said, laughing.
“Shut up. It’s Queenie’s fault anyway. She won’t let us play with Ruby.”
“She isn’t a toy,” Abbey said.
“She was made to be a toy,” Benhil said. “She’s programmed to like it.”
“Forget it,” Abbey said. “Not another word about Ruby, or I’ll make sure that even if you could, you can’t.”
Abbey raised her eyebrow at Benhil, who put his hands up in submission.
“Lieutenant Cage?”
Abbey turned her head to the sound of her name, finding the Curlatin in the corner. He was on his feet, facing her way. Abbey stared at him. One of his large eyes was tinged with red and purple, like the entire thing was one massive bruise.
“Coli?”
The universe had never felt so fragging small.
22
“Funny you should be here, Lieutenant,” Coli said.
“Me?” Abbey replied. “You’re supposed to be on Hell.”
“So are you.”
“You know this Curlatin?” Pik said.
“What are you doing here?” Abbey said, ignoring him. There was nothing good about Coli being here. Nothing.
“Overseeing the recovery,” Coli said. “For General Thraven.”
The name got the attention of all of the Rejects. They stiffened up, turning to face Coli.
“You work for Thraven?" Abbey said, not sure whether to laugh or just punch him in the other eye. "Seriously? What the frag was with the waterworks when they picked us up? You acted like the biggest pansy I’ve ever seen.
How’s your eye, by the way? It looks like shit.”
Coli huffed. “I thought he was going to screw me after we made a deal. He never said anything about getting busted or Hell. Pick up the mainframe. That was the mission. But he got us out of there real quick. Some of us in one piece. Well, me. Mostly.” He put his hand near his eye. “You fragging blinded me, you bitch. You have to know how sensitive a Curlatin’s eyes are. Fragging low blow. The other members of the Fifth are here, though. Eighteenth Platoon, now.” His big mouth spread in a toothy smile. “You want a reunion?”
Abbey glanced back at Pellem. The Skink was clearly confused.
“High-value cargo,” she said. “Always send platoon to guard.”
“It didn’t seem odd to you that debris would be considered high-value?” Benhil said.
“Haulers don’t ask. Don’t tell.”
“Yeah, right. Well, I highly recommend calling for whatever backup you have on this tug, right now.”
The door to the mess opened. Five members of Fifth Platoon walked in. The good news was that they were in standard utilities instead of armor.
The bad news was that their eyes were all a dark, silvery-gray.
“Ah, frag me,” Airi said, recognizing the look as she lifted her sword from her back. “Good thing I brought this along.”
“I have a feeling I shouldn’t have left the locker back in the hangar,” Pik said.
Abbey looked back at Coli, her prior anger at the Sergeant exploding. It had been one thing when she thought the Fifth had gotten busted for smuggling. Knowing Coli was working with Thraven on the job?
She growled softly, ready to jump Coli and blind him in his other eye. There was no time for that, yet. She moved in front of the Rejects, putting up her hand, feeling the Gift flowing through her. The Fifth attacked, a line of plasma launching from their rifles, the bolts charging toward them and shattering against an invisible shield.
“Remember,” Abbey said. “You need to take the heads.”
“Fury, that means you,” Bastion said.
Abbey bounced forward, launching herself into the lead soldier. Dis. She remembered the woman from Grudin as she slammed into her, knocking her back. She spun and caught an incoming fist, grunting as a plasma bolt struck her in the leg. She turned and kicked, catching another soldier in the hip and knocking them off-balance.
Then the Rejects were there with her. Pik grabbed Dis by the shoulders, throwing her against the wall. She hit it without complaint, bouncing off and coming back. Pik closed again, throwing a heavy punch at her head. She brought her hand up, and the fist hit an invisible wall, his arm bouncing off, the Gift throwing him to the ground.
“Frag,” he shouted, rolling to his feet.
Bastion was on Abbey’s other side. He had produced a knife from somewhere, and he used it to slash one of the Convert’s arms, leaving a nasty gash at the wrist. He sidestepped one punch, ducked under a second, and stabbed the soldier in the chest before being thrown backward.
Red klaxons started flashing in the mess as the ship’s alert system was triggered.
“What’s happening?” Abbey said, throwing the Gift out and into Dis, slamming her into the bulkhead so hard she could hear her spine break.
“Soldiers attacking crew,” Pellem replied. “Red alert.”
Abbey turned back to Coli. “Thraven isn’t going to like this.”
“Some opportunities are too good to pass up.”
“Worth starting a war with the Haulers?”
“Don’t worry about that. The media will say the fugitives from Hell were responsible. After all, you were last seen in this area.”
“You son of a bitch.”
“So I’ve heard. Next time maybe you’ll want to think twice before you punch a Curlatin in the eye.”
“You’re right. Next time I’ll take both of them and save myself the trouble.”
She burst toward him, the Gift burning beneath her skin.
He drew his sidearm; a simple pistol sized for his large hands. He aimed it at her, holding the shot as she approached. She lunged at him, noticing her fingers changing as she did, stretching into silvery claws.
He pulled the trigger.
The bullet hit between her breasts, the crack of her bones almost as loud as the shot itself. The force pushed her off course, and Coli ducked to the side as she fell to the ground and rolled to a stop, the pain almost unbearable.
“I don’t understand why Thraven’s been having so much trouble with you,” he said.
Abbey pushed herself up on her hands, finding the Rejects on the other side of the room. Bastion was down. Dead? Pik was still fighting, but his left hand was a bloody mess. Airi was holding her own, her sword able to do what the others couldn’t. Two headless Converts were nearby.
Pellem was on the ground, a pool of blood beneath her.
She picked herself up, getting to her feet. Her head was thumping in rhythm to her heart, the Gift moving to a matching beat. Her breath was steady, and she opened her mouth, snarling in fury and walking toward Coli. She didn’t give a shit who or what Thraven had turned the Fifth into. She wasn’t going to let her team die.
Coli pointed his sidearm and fired, the bullet hitting Abbey in the chest a second time. She felt the sting of it, but when she glanced down there was no damage. No wound. He shot her again, and again. She kept coming, kept moving, walking toward him.
His sidearm clicked as she reached him, the magazine empty. She reached out almost casually, grabbing him as he tried to back away and pulling him down to her height. She brought her other hand down and across, her fingers slashing across his good eye. He howled in pain for a second time as he crumbled to the ground.
She didn’t kill him. Instead, she continued forward to where Pik was tangling with Sergeant Ray, trying to defend himself from the Convert’s attacks. Each punch slammed hard into the Trover, and she could tell he was on the defensive as he tried to back away.
A plasma bolt caught Ray in the face, blasting half of it off. Ray froze for a moment, and Abbey watched as silver liquid filled the space, taking the place of the damage and allowing the Sergeant to move again.
What the frag?
Ray grabbed at Pik’s bloody arm, hands wrapping around it and twisting. A sharp snap and Pik bellowed in pain, using his other hand to hit Ray and sending him flopping across the floor. Airi was on him in an instant, her sword dropping through Ray's neck.
“My eyes,” Coli whined behind her. “My fragging eyes.”
“Okay, are you okay?” Abbey said, ignoring him, heading over to her team.
“Hurts like a mother,” he replied. “Arm’s broken, and they shot my fragging hand.” He held it up. Three of his four fingers were missing. He didn’t seem to know it until then. “Fragging son of a bitch. Damn it.”
“The ones in here are all dead, Queenie,” Benhil said. “But the rest of the ship? If it’s a platoon, there are at least ten more.”
“Nine,” Abbey said. “Illiard never made it out with them, probably because he got hurt. They’re going to be killing the crew.”
“And blaming it on you,” Coli said between cries of pain.
“Lucifer,” Abbey said, dropping next to the pilot. His eyes were open. Blinking. He looked dazed.
“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Pik said, grabbing Ray’s rifle in his good hand. “Go take care of the rest of this trash.”
Abbey looked over at Benhil, Erlan, and Airi. “Grab a rifle, let’s go.”
They picked up rifles from the downed soldiers, following Abbey out into the hall. She didn’t know the layout of the ship beyond the path from the hangar to the mess, but it usually wasn’t that hard to find the bridge.
“Trouble seems to follow you wherever you go, Queenie,” Benhil said.
“Thraven seems to be wherever I go,” Abbey replied. “It’s okay. It only makes me want to kill him that much more.”
“Roger that.”
“Stay alert. They might not have ar
mor, but they have some amount of the Gift.”
“Not as much as you do,” Airi said.
“I didn’t see you getting tossed around back there, Fury,” Benhil said.
“Anger and hate, Jester,” Airi replied. “It’s an effective counter.”
“Even for regular humans?”
“It seems to be.”
“Shut it,” Abbey said. They were nearing an intersection in the corridors. “I’ll take point, be ready to cover me.”
“Roger.”
She reached the corridor and stepped out into it. A few dead crew members were scattered along the length of it, most of them shot in the head.
“Damn it,” she said. When Trillisin and Nilin came back, would they blame the Rejects for the attack? They had every reason to.
“Eww,” Benhil said. “Dead Skinks smell worse than dead humans, I think.”
“What does shut it mean to you, Jester?” Abbey asked.
“Sorry, ma’am.”
They made their way past the corpses. Abbey listened for the sound of gunfire, but the ship was eerily quiet.
“How do you think they do it?” Airi said. “Soldiers that can’t be killed I mean?”
“Olus said that they’re using some kind of lost technology,” Abbey replied. “Tech that predates humankind.”
“What?” Benhil said. “As in, there were spacefaring races before Terrans?”
“Yes.”
“Where the hell have they been hiding?”
“Good question.”
“I don’t mean so we can find them. I mean so we can stay the frag away. Things are already bad enough.”
“You’re going to be a hero, Jester.”
“A hero? The Republic is after us. The Outworlds are after us. Thraven is after us, and within the next ten minutes, the damned Crescent Haulers will be after us, too. Correct me if I’m wrong, Queenie, but having half the galaxy trying to kill me is not my definition of a hero.”
“No. But fighting to save the innocent is, and that’s what we’re doing.”
“Not by choice. I’d rather be on Huli, swimming in the clear blue sea and sipping Rudin Brzlach.”
Abbey put her hand up, registering the sound of boots ahead. She looked back at Airi, pointing to her sword. At first, Airi seemed reluctant to part with it, but an angry look convinced her. Abbey took the blade, closing her eyes. She breathed in. She could almost smell the soldiers. She could sense the Gift within them.
