Bayne grabbed Wilco’s shirt collar. “I got him,” he said to Hep. “You can let him go.”
Hep didn’t seem to hear him. His eyes were closed. Every vein in his face and neck bulged. His skin was a deep red, nearing purple. He did not let go.
Bayne touched Hep’s shoulder and got closer to his ear. “Let go.”
Hep heard him that time. His grip slackened, and Bayne took the full weight of Wilco’s limp body. As soon Hep let go, he too went limp.
Bayne grabbed Hep with his other arm and pulled the boy toward him, sandwiching both boys against him. He reached over Wilco and grabbed the netting on the other side, securing them all in one big bear hug.
He felt the ligaments in his knees stretch and tear. His joints popped. Pain screamed through his body until his vision began to cloud over. Sweat pooled in his eyes. His grip on the netting began to slip.
“I could…” He could barely force the words out. “Could…use…”
Everything stopped, like time had frozen. He guessed this was what death would be like. Everything just stopping. Ceasing. Consciousness floating in the last moment it experienced, an endless purgatory.
“Patch applied,” Sigurd said.
When Bayne opened his eyes, he was on the floor of the bay, still wrapped in the netting. Hep lay next to him, pale and unconscious. Wilco was motionless as Sigurd pressed on his chest then breathed into his mouth, trying to force his lungs to work.
Bayne tried to speak, to ask Sig if Wilco was alive, if Hep was alive, if he was alive and not looking down on this, if this was the moment his ghost would be frozen in.
“Sir.” Mao’s voice echoed like God through the room. “We need you on the bridge. Immediately.”
Sig said, “Go,” through broken breaths.
Bayne shook free from his purgatory. “Get a medic to the shuttle bay ASAP. I’m on my way.”
11
The frigate passed only kilometers away from the Royal Blue, but, thanks to the interference from the gravity well, it was unaware of the Blue’s presence. At least for now. All it took was an eagle-eyed nav officer and they were blown.
Mao’s instinct told him to scrap the operation. Put the ship in a slow burn in the opposite direction, get out of the Rickard Sea, and find some place to rest and repair. And that was how he knew that Bayne would order the exact opposite.
“Sir?” Graeme said. “The Burning Sun will pass us by in two minutes and thirteen seconds. Twelve seconds. Eleven.”
Mao cleared his throat.
“What is our course of action, sir?” Graeme said.
“Maintain position,” Mao ordered.
“Belay that,” Bayne said, stepping onto the bridge. “Pursue the Burning Sun.”
The order didn’t surprise Mao, it was the plan, but he’d hoped the massive damage to the ship and near-death experience of the last two minutes might have changed Bayne’s mind. “Sir, I would like to suggest an alternative.”
“We aren’t leaving,” Bayne said.
“We can’t continue with the plan as is,” Mao said. “Not with the breach in the hull. We’ve lost significant maneuverability. We won’t be able to disable the Burning Sun before it detects us. If we engage, we risk a head-on fight, and we will not win.”
Instead of flat-out refusal, Bayne considered Mao’s point. The longer he was silent, the higher Mao’s hopes of actually getting through to the captain rose.
Mao felt like a fool for hoping.
“Hail the Burning Sun,” Bayne said. “And patch the call through to the shuttle.”
“Sir,” Mao said, beginning an objection. He realized the futility of it immediately and let it drop. “What of the Blue?”
“Once the shuttle launches, maintain a safe distance from the Burning Sun. I may need cover for the exfil.”
“Exfil?”
Bayne left the bridge, leaving Mao with a headful of questions and a knot in his gut.
Sigurd was standing outside the shuttle bay when Bayne arrived. He was pale and trembling, sweat on his brow, staring at his feet. Seeing the man so shaken was enough to shake Bayne. Of all the members of his crew, Sigurd was the most steadfast. He was young and eager, but never questioned, always gave everything he had, never wavered in a fight.
Bayne stood in front of him, rested his hands on Sig’s shoulders. “You saved our lives in there. Not just me and Hep, but the entire ship. The entire crew. You did more than any man could do in that situation.”
Sig looked up, his expression morphing from shock to something else—a mix of anger and confusion. “He’s alive.”
Bayne cocked his head.
Sig’s expression solidified in disbelief. “Wilco. He’s not dead.”
Bayne understood Sig’s response. He thought Bayne didn’t care about the boy. He thought Bayne assumed Wilco was dead and was ready to move on. And he was right. Bayne wanted to slap Sig for faulting him the response any captain had when losing a sailor in the heat of battle, but he didn’t have the time.
“Then you saved everyone,” Bayne said, his voice lacking a tone of congratulations. “Well done.” He nodded toward the shuttle bay door behind Sig. “Now, with me.”
Sig’s expression didn’t change, but he followed Bayne without question. Without outward question, at least. Bayne was not so blind as to not see it in Sig’s eyes of late. He saw it in everyone’s eyes.
The medics had both Hep and Wilco on stretchers when Bayne and Sig entered the bay. The boys were breathing deep from oxygen masks, color yet to return to their faces. Bayne cast a glance at them as he passed, knowing that more would invest time that he didn’t have. Their eyes were unfocused. They looked to have only just recovered from their unconscious states.
Bayne didn’t allow himself to focus on how young they both looked. Young and scared.
He and Sig both put on spacewalk suits and armed themselves. Sig took his trusty blaster rifle, Bayne, his swords and a pair of blaster pistols. They entered the shuttle and, once the bay had been cleared, exited the ship.
“You mind letting me in on the plan, sir?” Sig’s voice was tight.
Bayne missed the jovial tone, the excitement. He thought Sigurd would have appreciated the freedom from the oversight of Central, the freedom to move and do as they liked, engage the enemy without restriction. But, as he had quickly learned, Bayne didn’t know his crew as well as he thought.
He didn’t have the time to run the new plan by the crew. The old plan was to outmaneuver the Burning Sun, disable it, and board. Their ship was more powerful than the Blue, but its crew was not more formidable. A large portion was administrative staff. Those that could fight were corporate security—highly paid, highly trained, but inexperienced. Most had probably never seen a fight.
But with the damage to the ship, they lost the ability to outmaneuver the Burning Sun. The frigate had stronger armor and more guns. It would have blown them apart. The shuttle could still outmaneuver the frigate, but not disable it. They needed to board. And to do that, they needed help.
“Where’s my hail to the Burning Sun?” Bayne said to the bridge.
“Open,” Mao said. “And ready. You’ve got a general comm connection.”
“This is Captain Drummond Bayne of the Royal Blue. No doubt you’ve heard of me.” He wanted some ego to shine through, but he told himself it was an intentional ruse, part of the persona that Central had created for him. They made him the most wanted man in the system, so why not use that reputation? Though it would have been a lie to say he didn’t enjoy it.
“I have your ship in my sights,” Bayne said. “But I have no desire to destroy it. I only desire one thing: Jaxwell Byers.”
A moment of static filled the shuttle. Bayne’s breath froze in his chest as he imagined all the ways this plan could go bad in the flash of a blaster. Then the static died as someone on the opposite end of the comm answered.
“Did you think you’d incite mutiny by addressing that to the whole ship?” The voice was fu
ll of bravado, though it sounded forced, as much a persona as what Bayne had adopted. “Have you any idea what I pay these people? The lowest grade employee on my administrative staff makes more than you do in two years.” He laughed. “Should I say, more than what a captain makes, as I understand you no longer are one?”
“Tell that to the ship I got pointed at you right now.” He felt his ego creep up on him. No sense embracing the persona if it got him killed. “Anyway, that’s not why I called. I have no need to incite a ship-wide mutiny. I only need a mutiny of one. This message is for that one person. Proceed with the Lemire Protocol.”
Silence again. Followed by a slow-building laugh. Deep, the kind that stems from shock and disbelief.
“You are as bold as your reputation says,” Jaxwell said. “I’m amazed it hasn’t gotten you killed yet.”
“It’s come close,” Bayne said.
Jaxwell sighed like he’d just come to the end of a fit of laughter. “Well, I can’t say it’s been a pleasure, but it’s been interesting.” His voice grew faint as he turned away from the comm and addressed someone else. “Do you have a lock on them yet, Captain?”
Sigurd reached across the panel and muted the comm. “Sir, can I ask what’s going on? Who are you talking to? This some kind of bluff?”
If nothing else, Bayne was happy to hear a sense of wonderment in Sig’s voice again. “No, it’s not a bluff.” Though it felt like one. Bayne’s heart raced, and his cheeks went hot as he listened and waited.
Jaxwell’s voice came through the comm again, still full of bluster, but with more effort than before. “Captain Bayne, if you’d be so kind as to poke your nose out from wherever you’re hiding, I’d be happy to blast it off your face.”
Sigurd’s hand was clapped over the comm’s mute button. Bayne met his gaze with a sly smile, disarming Sig’s defensiveness. Sig slid his hand away, allowing Bayne to press it.
“Mister Byers,” Bayne said, “You have a lot to learn about life out here in the Deep Black.”
Jaxwell laughed into the comm. “I think I’ve figured it out fine enough. Frontiers draw a certain sort of people. And I know people.”
Bayne was about to answer when he heard a commotion on the other side of the comm. A knot of voices all hollering over each other. Then it went dead.
Sigurd tensed. He gripped the controls, ready to abandon the approach and head back to the ship.
Bayne rested his hand on Sig’s shoulder. “Wait.” He sounded calm.
A minute passed. Then five. It felt like an eternity. Every second could have been the moment the frigate spotted either the shuttle or the Blue and blasted them both to nothingness.
Mao’s voice broke the silence. “Sir, we’ve just received a black channel message. It says to head for the docking bay at the rear of the frigate. A woman called Elsa Torvul.”
“Roger that, XO,” Bayne said. “Keep the engine running. We’ll be back in a minute and in need of a quick getaway.”
Sig had yet to move the shuttle. He looked at Bayne with concern in his eyes.
“Chief,” Bayne said. “Take us in.”
“Who is Elsa Torvul, sir? How could you possibly have someone aboard the Burning Sun?”
Bayne’s eyes narrowed. “Take us in, Chief.”
Sig clenched his jaw and prodded the shuttle forward.
The frigate didn’t react. Bayne didn’t expect it to. He had complete faith in the Lemire Protocol because he had complete faith in the person who wrote it. As they neared the docking bay, the gun batteries along the port side of the frigate became like the glaring eyes of a space god staring them down. They passed closer to final judgement with every inch of empty black void they crossed.
Those eyes never blinked. But neither did they flare. Only the space god’s mouth moved, the docking bay opening, ready to swallow them whole. Sig cast Bayne a skeptical glance, but Bayne silently urged him forward.
They entered the frigate and landed without issue. The docking bay was surprisingly empty. A small contingent of soldiers stood a hundred meters away, maybe twenty of them. Their blasters were at the ready, not raised but still pointed at the two figures halfway between them and the ship.
Those two figures backed slowly toward the shuttle. As they neared, Bayne could see that only one of them came of their own free will. The other, a man in a finely-tailored, three-piece suit, was being pulled along at gunpoint.
“Open the doors,” Bayne said to Sig. With a hiss, the shuttle depressurized, and its landing platform opened.
The two continued to back up until they disappeared under the bow of the shuttle. They reappeared inside a moment later.
“You are going to regret this,” Jaxwell said.
“Perhaps,” said Bayne. “But I don’t yet. Until then, welcome aboard, Mister Byers. And you, Miss Torvul.”
Sig turned in his chair to look at the newcomers and was surprised to see that he recognized one of them.
“Thanks, Captain,” Elsa Torvul said. “But I prefer Delphyne.”
12
The ride back to the Blue was uncomfortable for several reasons. The kidnapped trust fund brat was chief among them. He hadn’t stopped talking since he came aboard.
“I can’t believe how stupid you people are. Defying the clan is stupid enough. Taking Ore Town. Attacking Triseca. But this, coming after me? That’s next-level stupid.”
Bayne looked unimpressed. “First, none of those things were me. But you’ve already begun to prove useful. I need to know what the clan knows. In learning what you know, seeing how you’re so critical to the success of the Byers operation, I learn what the clan knows and where their information is coming from. Maybe I learn a little about the endgame.”
“I’m not going to tell you anything,” Jaxwell said, doing his best impression of a brave man.
Bayne smiled and leaned in a little. “Yes, you will. Because you’re a self-righteous cur, and you’ll break before I’ve even had the chance to smell your blood.” Bayne smiled wider as he watched Jaxwell squirm.
After the irritation that was Jaxwell Byers the man, there was the complication that was Jaxwell Byers the prisoner. The original plan was to occupy the Burning Sun, question Byers, and then leave. They never intended to take prisoners. Bayne knew that Mao would object, and the XO had good reason to. Taking such a high-value target prisoner only broadened the target already on their back.
Ore Town and Triseca, as incorrectly attributed to Bayne as they were, were seen as attacks against the entity, the conglomerate. The clan was used to that. They were attacked by pirates regularly. But this would be seen as a personal affront, an attack on the Byers family. This would bring down the full wrath of Jasper Byers, the clan patriarch, and a man with a longstanding reputation for ruthlessness.
But this was the only way to get the information they needed to clear their names and this mess they’d found themselves in the middle of. Not that that would assuage Mao at all. Bayne loathed the coming confrontation. It seemed that was the only form of interaction Bayne and Mao had nowadays. He wasn’t sure he’d ever have considered Mao a friend, that kind of personal relationship was tricky between commanding officers and subordinates, but he’d always respected Mao and his counsel. Lately, he just wanted Mao to stay out of his way.
The last, but certainly not the least, contributing factor to the tension on the shuttle was Delphyne. They’d made quite a show of her exit. None on the crew were sure they’d ever see her again. Sigurd was affected more than most. He and Delphyne were close. Bayne long suspected a romantic relationship between the two, or at least a budding one, but that didn’t matter. This was a betrayal regardless of their relationship. She’d lied to him and all the others. She colluded with Bayne to deceive them. It didn’t matter how she or Bayne spun that, the only reason that mattered was because they couldn’t be trusted.
As blunt as that was, it was true. Tirseer had already gotten to Hep. Bayne didn’t know who else she may have gotten to. He nee
ded eyes on the clan, and he needed to keep the circle of people who knew small.
There was little they could do to soothe that transgression. Especially when time didn’t allow for the effort. Bayne had other things to focus on than social niceties. Again, he found himself missing the enforced rigidity of the Navy. Countless times he questioned the orders of his superior, and his subordinates questioned his, but they accepted them as law. Now, he somehow found his order up for debate.
But Delphyne didn’t have that context. In her heart, she’d betrayed her friends.
Judging by Sigurd’s tense shoulders, he viewed it the same. He never once cast a glance over his shoulder at the friend he thought he might never see again.
“Captain?” Mao’s voice was pregnant with accusation. “What did you do?”
“Don’t know to what you are referring,” Bayne said. He pointed his blaster at Jaxwell’s face as soon as the prisoner opened his mouth to speak.
“We’re picking up a lot of interesting chatter over the Byers Clan network,” Mao said. “Something about an abduction.”
“I’ll debrief you as soon as we dock,” Bayne said.
“That may need to wait,” Mao said. “The Burning Sun is mobilizing short-range fighters and assault units. They seem rather agitated by this alleged kidnapping.”
“Spool up the engines,” Bayne ordered. “Prep a hard burn out of the Rickard Sea. I want as much space between us and the Burning Sun as possible in the next hour.”
The shuttle was silent until it docked with the Royal Blue. It wasn’t until the landing platform lowered and the shuttle bay came into view that Bayne realized he hadn’t alerted the crew as to the second person that joined from the Burning Sun. The looks on the crew’s faces was enough of a reminder.
Wilco was the first to welcome them aboard. He had become Sig’s de facto second-in-command on the security force. When Sig was on away missions, Wilco took it upon himself to secure the shuttle bay. He greeted Jaxwell with fire in his eyes. Wilco had nothing but disdain for those running things. A man of such wealth and influence as Byers was exceptionally loathed.
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