* * *
I woke up choking. The last time I had done that, it had been Eton who had his arms around my neck, so it was fitting that he had led me here this time around.
Unlike last time, however, my attacker wasn’t trying to render me unconscious. His hand grabbed a handful of my hair and twisted my head in the direction of the drone.
“Tell me what your father told you about the drones.” The voice was rough, as though his vocal cords had suffered damage at one point. The hold on my neck loosened the barest fraction, but it wouldn’t have made any difference anyway. The room was still swimming, and my limbs weren’t really responding properly. I took several ragged breaths.
“Next time, reconsider the shoot first, interrogate later method. You can’t always rely on bad aim.” Apparently, my sarcastic bone wasn’t broken. Yet.
He hit me in the face. “You could still have talked without your legs. Again, what do you know about the drones?”
“I wouldn’t consider screaming as talking, but all right.” I spat out some blood. “Why don’t you ask Solara? She has access to more data now than I ever did.” I pawed at his arm ineffectually, trying to get it between him and my neck. The cut on my hand throbbed, pushed open, but I persisted stubbornly.
“Maybe.” The assassin moved his Disruption Blade into view. “But we need to know if your father told you anything else. Anything about their function. So I will cut off parts of you until I’m convinced you’re telling the truth.”
“That seems reasonable,” I gasped. “I’ll tell you what I know.” I pushed on the elbow around my neck with every scrap of strength I had left, curling my body back in the same moment. Slick with blood from my palm, I slid out of his grasp and kicked him away, scrabbling backward. “We don’t understand how they function, as everyone damn well knows. Why does that matter?”
He rose over me, blade held out to the side. “It matters, because everything will open.”
He was making increasingly less sense, and I was out of time. My training told me I should have a plan.
I found I didn’t care. I still wasn’t as angry as I should have been. Hurting him, what little I had, had delivered no satisfaction. Qole, Arjan, Basra, Telu, Eton…they would continue on without me, and all evidence indicated that my absence would be more useful rather than less. Especially in Eton’s case. I still would have preferred to hit the assassin until he stopped breathing, but my body was giving up, the blows to my head taking their toll. I closed my eyes, retreating from the pain, and imagined Qole under the moonlight, laughing.
I heard the whistle of a blade coming down.
After my show of Shadow, it didn’t take much longer for them to decide. The various regional representatives could reach their conclusion at any time on the final day, and so there was only another hour or so of working out the details.
Details that mostly concerned what a refusal of Solara’s terms might look like.
When we all gathered around the black talking stumps for the final time, I felt a thrill go through me. It was somehow anticipation, determination, dread, all folded into one.
Nev. I couldn’t think about Nev.
Since Hiat had begun the meeting and called for a vote, it was his place to close it. “All those in favor of my proposal to cooperate with Queen Solara?”
No hands stirred. The air felt heavy, dust motes hanging in the light of the Shadow lamps. It was day, but only cracks of sunlight shone at the edges of the warehouse.
“Those decided to oppose Queen Solara?”
The heaviness lifted, as did my heart. Hands shot up all around the circle, along with my own. Arjan nudged me from behind in congratulations; Telu squeezed my arm. Jerra grinned at me from across the circle, and the others nodded their approval. The eyes that met mine were proud, and I had to blink against the sting in my own.
…And against the sparks and cracks in my vision.
Because of those, it took me a second to notice that Hiat’s hand had gone up with the others’—that he hadn’t raised it in support of his own proposal. Maybe he just knew to follow the tide. Or maybe I had really won him over.
Jerra adjusted her wheelchair, squaring herself with the talking stump. “I have an additional proposal to make.”
“Ancestors, haven’t we been here long enough?” someone in the crowd grumbled. The warehouse was packed with captains—over five hundred of us. It seemed almost everyone had turned out for this decision. Almost everyone.
Nev, Eton, and Basra were nowhere in sight. Nev’s absence didn’t surprise me, but having the others around would have been nice. Then again, maybe it was better that I didn’t appear to be under the influence of any offworlders. Maybe I didn’t actually need them. Nev, especially.
My heart lurched inside, swooping like an injured vessel in flight.
Jerra waited for the murmur to die down, then tossed her purple-streaked, spiky head. “We won’t be here much longer, since I imagine this decision will be quick.” She paused as all attention focused on her. “For the duration of our resistance, and as long as we see no reason to reconvene and vote otherwise before then, I propose that Qole Uvgamut be the primary decision maker for the fishermen of Alaxak, provided she gives a fair ear to the regional representatives’ council. That way, we don’t have to do this every single time a problem arises.”
For a second, there was a silence like a frozen lake, weighty, smooth, and impenetrable. I didn’t even know what to think. But then the ice cracked—someone chuckled, another snorted, and others murmured in agreement.
“All decided?” Jerra raised her hand.
As before, every representative’s hand rose. Not immediately or in unison; Hiat’s nearly last. But they rose.
I exhaled and remembered that my vote counted too. My own hand lifted.
Somehow, I was now the provisional leader of Alaxak. Before I could wonder how the blasted hell this had happened, there was a beep at my comm. It was the signal my crew and I used for emergencies.
As people began to chatter excitedly and mill in the meeting hall, I put a hand to my ear. “What?”
“Captain, Basra. A rather large ship, Dracorte by the looks of it, just showed up in orbit around Alaxak. Their signals are masked, or else I would have noticed them sooner.” That was why Basra wasn’t here. He was on the Kaitan monitoring the comms. Doing his job. “An advance shuttle, stealth-grade, just landed in the center of Chorda. I would bet they’re headed right for you—and that they’re armed.”
It was a solid bet if Basra was making it. Sure enough, before I could even respond, there was a thunderous banging against the warehouse doors. Everyone froze, falling silent, hundreds of us turning as one to look at the entrance.
“Keep monitoring the situation,” I whispered to Basra, “and get ready. I’ll get back to the Kaitan as soon as possible. We need to stop that ship before it can attack.”
“Captain, I’m not sure we can—”
The doors blew inward, interrupting our comm. I closed the channel and blinked against the weak sunlight as my eyes made out the new arrivals.
A squadron stood framed in the entryway. Two dozen or so troops wore Dracorte military fatigues and body armor and wielded photon rifles. Another member of the party had that strange segmented armor and almost casually carried a sword gleaming with a white stripe of energy. A Bladeguard.
Worse, what looked like a metal spider, twice as tall as a human and bristling with gun and rocket barrels, crouched behind all of them, weapons trained on us. It was a mechbot and, aside from the Bladeguards, was more formidable than all the troops combined. I’d only heard stories about them. They were usually reserved for activities like invading planets and meeting armies on land. They were too destructive in palaces or cities that one wished to inhabit afterward.
These guys obviously didn’t care too much about Ch
orda. Where in the blazes was Eton? We could have used him right about now.
Hundreds of us versus two dozen soldiers, a Bladeguard, and a mechbot. We might as well be outnumbered.
I bit off a curse and muttered to Arjan, “You have your two knives, right?” He was skilled in knife fighting, at least as these things were considered on Alaxak, and he didn’t usually travel unarmed.
“Four,” he said under his breath.
I already knew Telu had her infopads. “Telu, take cover and try to bring down their comms to make sure word of this doesn’t reach their fleet.” She inhaled sharply at the mention of fleet. “Second priority is to get the mechbot’s artillery offline.”
If I couldn’t simply take it down from here. As Telu began to slip away through the crowd, I tried to dredge up the Shadow inside me, but my vision shuddered so violently, I had to close my eyes and clutch my stomach to keep from vomiting. Useless was what I would be, if I fainted or died—or worse, if I came apart at the seams and went mad. Silently cursing Nev for forcing me to display such power earlier, I swallowed and shoved the Shadow back down. I would have to make do with standard weapons.
I had only a single dagger strapped to my belt, along with a plasma pistol that had once belonged to Nev, an XR-Something that could blast through the hull of a ship. It should suffice for the mechbot.
The Bladeguard stepped forward, clearly the leader of the bunch, his voice carrying into the huge space. “This is a cease-and-disperse order from Artur Rexius, the newly appointed governor of Alaxak, given in the name of Our Majesty, Queen Solara Ysandrei Rezanna Verasia Dracorte.”
I leaned toward Arjan, pitching my voice as low as possible. “Do you think you can distract the Bladeguard long enough for me to get by him?”
I felt more than saw Arjan’s nod at my shoulder. I glanced at him to see blackness already seeping into the corner of his eye. For once, I wished I could do the same. I felt nearly helpless without it. Powerless to protect my brother, my crew.
“You are meeting without permission on government property,” the Bladeguard continued as troops began to file in around him, fanning to the edges of the warehouse.
“Get away from him after that,” I breathed quietly to Arjan. “Don’t let him close.”
“I think it’s him who’ll have to worry.”
I couldn’t waste any more words; I could only hope my brother’s bravado wouldn’t get him killed by a Bladeguard. Unholstering both the pistol and the dagger at my hip, I held them both low at my side and pretended to listen to what the Bladeguard was saying.
“Everyone line up outside now. Once we check your papers, you will be allowed to leave on your ships. You’ll only receive a warning in your files. Further unauthorized meetings will incur heavy fines and possible confinement.”
“How sweet of you,” Jerra snapped, her voice cutting the air. She was the first to speak directly to him. Afterward, she glanced at me, and I gave her the barest nod.
“Excuse me?” the Bladeguard said, his voice low. “Are you challenging my authority here?”
In response, Jerra pivoted in her chair and uppercut one of the troops standing next to her in the crotch. He folded like a dead sapling in a gale. She relieved him of his photon rifle in nearly the same motion, then deftly cracked the back of his head with the butt, under the base of his helmet. He fell limp.
Everything happened at once after that.
The mechbot hummed and whirred as it locked onto multiple targets. The Bladeguard sprang toward Jerra, only to have to leap back when one of Arjan’s daggers streaked out and nearly took him in the neck. He batted it aside and lunged toward Arjan instead. Fishermen and soldiers alike exploded into motion.
I had no time myself to watch what was happening around me. I couldn’t try to spot Telu in the chaos to see if she was succeeding at her task. I couldn’t make sure Arjan avoided the Disruption Blade.
I had to make it to the mechbot. Especially since it started firing.
I dodged behind a tussle involving Dracorte troops. At least, for now, the mechbot didn’t seem to be firing into its own men. It was using precision, and several fishermen fell. Its rapid-fire photon blasts were as slender as fingers—glowing fingers that left sizzling holes in your chest when they poked you.
Behind the troops, I swiped the safety off on my plasma pistol with a fingerprint. A heavy hand fell over the top of mine as I did, trying to crush my bones between his grip and the gun.
I flicked a glance at my attacker long enough to be sure it was a soldier, then brought my other hand up, plunging the dagger into his neck. Blood sprayed my cheek as I wrenched it out.
I raised the pistol and aimed.
“Qole, behind you!” Arjan called.
I barely threw myself down fast enough before the Disruption Blade came whistling over my head. I flipped around to see the Bladeguard standing above me, his blade whipping back into position, ready to come down.
Arjan was on him before it could, daggers in either hand. He parried the blow, and then another that was turned on him. Another. The white light of the Disruption Blade streaked the dimness in a blurring flurry, and yet Arjan matched every blow. I’d never seen him move so fast.
His eye was completely black.
Even so, he couldn’t keep it up. Not against a Bladeguard, someone who’d trained to fight most of their life. Not with one eye. Not with knives. First one knife went spinning away. And then the other. He planted the third—his last—into the Bladeguard’s armpit, in the chink between plates of armor. A pity it wasn’t the man’s sword arm. He raised his blade, just as the black drained from Arjan’s eye and the blood from his face.
And just as I raised my pistol.
Arjan’s gaze flicked to me in desperate hope, but the Bladeguard saw and pivoted, Disruption Blade carving the air in the same fluid motion, straight toward my hand. The sword connected with the barrel of my gun a split second after I pulled the trigger.
But the sword didn’t stop the blast. Neither did the Bladeguard’s armor, or his chest, or the roof above him. The white burst of plasma left a head-sized hole through everything between me and the stars. It might not have been too much to hope that it hit one of the Dracorte ships in orbit.
Maybe the pistol was worth whatever astronomical amount Nev had paid for it. Or maybe it was a waste, since half of the Disruption Blade—the half I’d parted from the hilt with my shot—was now fused to it in a melted lump, completely blocking the barrel. If I fired it now, I might as well be pointing it at myself.
Still, it had bought us our lives, whatever those were worth.
Only seconds after the Bladeguard collapsed in a sizzling heap next to me, Arjan hauled me to my feet, tearing the thing out of my hand in the same motion. “Ancestors, Qole. Are you all right?”
I smelled ozone, cooked meat, blood, and I tried not to gag as I nodded.
I didn’t so much care about myself as everyone else. Now that I knew Arjan was all right, I quickly scanned the warehouse. We seemed to be winning based on our sheer numbers alone. But there were bodies on the ground, many that didn’t wear Dracorte fatigues. And more were falling as the mechbot kept firing.
“We have to stop that thing, Arjan,” I gasped, lurching toward it. I slipped in something, and I didn’t look down to see what it was. I didn’t want to know.
Arjan caught my arm and hauled me back. “With what? Our bare hands?”
Wul, the long-haired representative who had supported me at the stumps, dodged forward, trying to get close to the mechbot with a plasma grenade. It took the thing half a second to readjust its target and shoot three photon blasts through his head, chest, and stomach.
A horrible cry caught in my throat. I had to stop this. Even if it meant using Shadow to destroy it—and maybe myself. “We need to do some—”
That something cu
t off my shout with the force of cannon fire and sent the mechbot staggering drunkenly. It was a cannon, I realized, when I saw the charred debris that had been made of one of its appendages. The mechbot clanked and rattled as it pivoted, now uneven on its spider legs, to face the new threat, but another few massive blasts scattered the entire thing into flying, flaming chunks.
I knew only one person who wielded plasma cannons like one would a rifle. I staggered out of the warehouse into the smoke-hazed sunlight. I almost expected Eton to be grinning at me behind his energy shield and over the steaming barrels of Verta, his lovingly named pair of cannons on swiveling mechanical arms, strapped to his body by a heavy harness. He usually enjoyed using the contraption to such an extent, even to kill, but his face this time was stone.
Before I could thank him, or say anything at all, he dove into the fray inside. In less than thirty seconds, it was over. Eton and Verta, together, were more deadly than a mechbot.
* * *
The final tally was grisly, if not the very worst I’d feared. All twenty-four Dracorte soldiers—twenty-five, including the Bladeguard—were down, dead or dying. We’d lost forty-one out of several hundred, and dozens were injured, bad burns from photon rifles marring legs and arms.
Forty-one dead. Captain Wul, a regional representative. Captain Puya, a woman I’d known since I was a child, who’d been friendly with my mother. Another captain from Gamut, as well as a young man named Mati—a crewmember of Hiat’s, who’d tried to flirt with me a couple years ago, before Eton had nearly knocked him out. Gone.
I hated to think it, but it was a shame most of the deceased were captains. A few first mates might be able to take over flying those ships, but not all of them had the necessary skills. We would need every pilot we had.
Jerra was alive and unscathed, and so was Hiat…of course. Arjan was nicked and scratched, bleeding in a few places, but otherwise fine, thank the ancestors, and Telu surfaced from the shadows, uninjured, gripping her infopads and blinking tears out of her eyes, from the smoke or the carnage, I wasn’t sure.
Shadow Call Page 12
