“There are the nano-spore inoculations. Sorry I haven’t had time to make more.” said Zoe.
“Did you give yourself one?” asked Zoe.
“Yes, Ma’am. Right before I came up here.”
“Good. Once we’re all done up here, it’ll be up to you who gets the next batch.”
“I should have enough to get the rest of the crew before lunchtime tomorrow.”
She went around the compartment had injected the shots into our necks. The nanites within the shot should attack any of the nano-spores that one of the warheads can use. These nasty rounds will continue on their paths and act much like a kinetic warhead, only in their way they leave behind nanoscopic spores that reproduce much like regular nanites. These nanites will seek out living tissue and convert themselves in to one of several deadly or debilitating viruses. Tac had told us that they are used on planetary populations occasionally elsewhere in the galaxy. They were border line Class 4 weapons, one of the nastier weapons in the Votus-Eridani Network.
Captain, the shell is approaching convergence. 3 minutes until it reaches our sensor net.
“Okay, Zoe, time to get down below and strap yourself in. Chop chop!” ordered Max. She left without a word and Max called after her to turn her shield on.
“Beamer target acquired, tracking. Solid lock.” I reported.
“Sensors still not conclusive.” came Fel’s report.
“Wait for it…thirty seconds…” said Max.
“There! It’s Xendrite!” called Fel.
“Initiate standard course deviation, two clicks to starboard!” called Max. I juked the dreaming to the right, swinging two kilometres wide of the shell to throw off its internal guidance. The shell detonated, spreading a wave of…something about local space. Suddenly, I felt light headed and gained tunnel vision, my hands began to shake on the control yoke and I thought for a moment I was having another panic attack. I was breathing heavily when I came around, and realised that we’d all suffered a similar attack. Fel was panting as if he’d just run a sprinting race, and Maxine was red faced and sweating.
“What the fuck was that?” I managed to say.
I believe you just experienced a Xendrite wave.
“I thought the polycrete was supposed to stop that?” said Max.
There have been no fatalities reported in the ship, Captain. The polycrete foam lattice was successful in inhibiting the waves from permanently affecting the crew.
“I feel like I’ve been holding my breath for ages!” she said.
“Yeah I thought I was having a panic attack.” I added.
“It was rather unpleasant,” said Fel, “let’s hope they don’t try that too often.”
“I second that.” I said.
“Weapons release detected!” called Fel.
“The bastards are probably hoping we’re all dead, this is probably going to be a boarding pod like the last time. Take it out with the beamer when it gets in range. No nuke blasts to blind us. Should be a clean shot.”
“It would be a pleasure, Captain.” I said.
No need to give up our condition just yet. I just wish I could see the look on the boarding pod occupants faces when they realise we’re still alive and are firing on their pod.
They’ll know then that they can’t get us with that type of shell. I was guessing they wouldn’t be too fussed, they had plenty of other types to screw us sideways.
43.
Life on board the Dreaming once more became a routine. The Blade of Xerxes didn’t fire again for some time, having learnt their lesson when we pulverised the boarding pod they sent following the Xendrite shell. We figured the Captain of the Xerxes was tired of wasting resources on long range shots. The next few would most likely be at mid-range, somewhere between 25 minutes and 35 minutes of lead time. The crew spent that time trying to maintain a semblance of casual awareness. We still kept double shifts on the bridge, and we still kept everything ready in case the Xerxes wanted to test its luck once more, but for the most part we were able to relax somewhat.
I spent my time between visiting Crege and Zoe in med lab to training in the forward cargo hold with Artemis. She’d offered herself as a sparring partner, to fill in for Crege, and as I’d seen her fight I knew she would be a decent replacement for the skilled warrior that Crege was.
Putting Eric to rest was a sombre, but much needed event. As a whole, the crew was doing much better with their morale, but there was still a pall of disquiet among us. The difference now was that we were getting used to it, we were resigned to our fates, whatever that may be. Our attitudes toward Artemis even improved, as if we’d accepted her role in Eric’s death as an unfortunate accident. I knew that was an inaccurate analogy, but I couldn’t find it in me to hate her as much as I knew I should. She’d shared enough danger on this voyage that it was hard to think of her as anything other than a temporary crew member. I could tell that our survival may very well depend on her at some point, it didn’t hurt to ensure she would want us to survive if that time ever came.
The second day after Eric’s ceremony I was in the forward hold sparring with Artemis, and remembered something she had said right before the synthetics had boarded us a few days ago. We were facing off using swords, the standard ship stock that were neither fancy nor refined. They were simple blades with hardened edges, with sturdy hand guards.
I thought that if I could distract her enough with banter I’d be able to get some clean blows against her. The aim wasn’t to kill or maim each other, of course, just to land a blow close enough to give the other pause or to disarm the other.
“So, care to explain what you meant when we were talking in the armoury a few days ago?”
“What do you mean?” she said, as we traded a few strikes, probing our stances and balance.
“You said ‘I wish I could tell you everything.’ What did you mean by that?”
“Did I?” I parried a trio of high strikes from her, then tried to sweep her legs out from under her. She nimbly danced backwards out of reach.
“You did.” I pushed my attack, trading strength for speed, striking high – low – high then thrusting forward with my blade. She parried each and pivoted at the last moment as my tip passed through where she had just been. I swear it snagged a piece of her jump suit.
“What can I say? I say things when the battle nerves hit me.”
“So you do get battle nerves?” I swung wide, she ducked and came up inside my guard with a palm strike that rocked my head back. I disengaged and parried a follow-through attack from Artemis.
“Sometimes. Don’t you?”
“Of course.” I feinted right, and managed to catch her off-guard, clipping her across the side of the head with my pommel. She tumbled back and as I followed a foot caught me under the chin and I saw stars briefly. She didn’t press the attack, luckily, she appeared stunned as well as I.
“That was a cheap shot.” she said, rubbing her temple. We began to circle each other once more.
“So are you going to answer the question?” I said, shifting my feet into a more adaptable stance.
“I guess I meant what I said.” I watched her twist her hips ever so slightly, and shift her grip on her blade in response to my stance changing. I could tell she saw what I was planning, so I switched stance again, putting the balance of my weight further back. This seemed to baffle her, and before she could adjust her own counter I threw myself at her, savagely beating a heavy double strike low enough to cause her to back away stumbling. I almost managed to knock her sword free of her hand, but she was quick. She darted to the side and rolled right, coming up on one knee and almost skewering my thigh as I struggled to shift my direction to compensate. Instead of falling back, like she expected me to, I continued my charge and drove a knee up into her chest. She flew backwards and crashed into a stack of crates. I was a ballsy move, and could have easily been the end of me if I hadn’t judged correctly. I’d been watching how she changed tactics, and saw that she almost always expects her o
pponent to hesitate when struck, or when they almost make a mistake. I could tell she’d faced many living opponents, but found synthetics more difficult to fight since they rarely fell back when pressed or gave up when out manoeuvred.
Her sword clattered to the deck as she fell heavily into the crates, arms flailing wildly. I couldn’t contain a laugh. I lowered my sword and offer a hand. She gripped my wrist and hauled herself upright. She was breathing shallowly, as if I’d winded her.
“What do you mean, you meant what you said?”
“That I’m not your enemy, despite what you may think of me. I wasn’t the engineer of this mission.”
I eyed her, as she struggled to catch her breath.
“Where did you get your training?”
“All over.”
“Back on the Viridian March, you mentioned you knew about Primacy Star Marine formations. You don’t get that kind of knowledge from ‘all over’.”
“I was a military enthusiast. So what?”
“Bullshit. I’ve seen you fight. You know battlefield triage as well.”
“Careful, you’re in danger of exposing me as a skilled active.” She was referring to the galactic slang term for active operators, like myself and my father. Actives was a term that was used interchangeably with Mercenaries, Bounty Hunters and Couriers, or pretty much anyone who makes a living by putting themselves in the path of danger. Modern day adventurers who ply the star lanes.
“There’s something with this job, and don’t think I didn’t catch you calling it a mission, that stinks of more than just a crime lord’s bid to rescue their long lost uncle.”
“You fight dirty. I like that. I’ll remember next time.”
“Don’t change the subject.”
“Look, I like you. I really do. I wish we’d met under different circumstances, but I have a job to do. I’m good at what I do and I’ll do what’s necessary to get it done. It was a stupid moment of weakness, and I got sentimental. It was sloppy of me, and we both know that that kind of emotional slip can get you killed.”
“Then give me something. Call me curious. I’m a dog with a bone, here.”
She looked at me, and shrugged while sighing. “You can already guess I’ve had military training. I wasn’t always Benedict’s agent, I’m also not exclusively his.”
“Freelancer?”
“Sometimes. Let’s just say that I’m very particular about who pays my bills.”
“That’s not much to go on.”
“Too bad, loverboy, it’s all you’re getting for now.”
“Okay, up for round two?” I sent my nanites into my blood, and activated my Repair paradigm. I felt invigorated, and a slight itching in my leg caused me to look down where Art’s blade had caught me at the end. A bright red stain had started to spread down my leg, at first shocking me. A closer look proved that it was just a long scratch, and had bled more than usual. The paradigm knitted the small wound closed and in no time it was completely healed.
“Got any juice for me?” said Art. I took her hands in mine and sent my nanites into her. She gasped as her blood was enriched and she suddenly got a second wind. “Oh, that is fantastic!”
“Easy, don’t go getting any ideas.”
“Do you realise you could use that to really have some long time fun in bed? You could keep yourself going on and on, all night with that.”
“Yeah, I tend to keep the bedroom and science lab separate.”
“Zoe is a lucky girl.” She was giggling now, as my face got redder.
“I’m not going to discuss my sex life with you.”
“Well, if you’re ever looking for a second partner one night, you know where I bunk.”
“Thanks, but no thanks.”
“Aw…you’re so cute when you go bright red.”
“Look, I’m here to train. You want to duel again or not?”
She kept laughing as she scooped up her blade and began stretching again. In a few moments we were circling each other once more. This time, she was grinning at me like she used to a few weeks back, before things got really serious on board. In a way, it was comforting. Sure, she was a manipulative bitch, and most definitely not a friend, but she had a confidence about her that was alluring. I strangely found that I’d missed her teasing and innuendo. It was right about then, during that train of thought, that I realised she’d undone her jump suit slightly so that a fairly decent amount of cleavage was showing. It was a moment after I realised it that she struck.
Her first blow put me right on the defensive, a low thrust the came as I was mid step. I tried to adjust my balance to counter but she was too fast. I only barely managed to get my guard up in time to parry another lightning fast strike, this time I was on my back foot and off balance. She pushed hard and rammed a shoulder into my chest, and as I fell backwards I saw a neatly executed roundhouse kick soar through the air at my baffled face. It struck me right in the mouth, and sent stars exploding in my vision. I felt, more than heard, my sword clatter to the deck moments before I hit the deck as well. It took a few moments for me to come around.
“Now we’re even.” She said, an evil smirk on her face as she zipped up her jump suit.
“Wow, that was low.”
“What was it that Crege says? It’s not the fanciest warrior who is superior, it’s the one who walks away.”
“Yeah, something like that.” I said as I spat out a mouthful of blood. I think I cracked a tooth as well. I put my nanites to work again, and although my head was still ringing, my fat lip had gone down and the cut inside my mouth was healed.
“Best of three?” she said, still grinning.
“Okay. Now we’ve both had our fun, let’s put a few more twists on the fight.”
“What are you suggesting?” she said, zipping her zipper up and down suggestively.
“No body checks, martial arts or physical contact at all. Steel only.”
“But my body is one of my best advantages.” This time she unzipped right to her belly button.
“But it’s not your only advantage. Put it away, you’re going to get me in trouble, and Zoe won’t let me train with you anymore.”
She made a whip cracking motion with her sword, laughing, but she zipped up anyway. Phew! I though, Focus, Seth! We once more faced off in an imaginary circle. We side stepped and stalked each other, applying subtle shifts in balance and bearing, each of us patiently awaiting the other to betray a hint of their first strike.
Just when I was thinking I was about to make my move, she launched herself at me with a loud cry. I rolled under her as she sailed overhead, I came up, pivoted and swung my blade out in a snaking strike. She met my blade on hers and followed up with three fast thrusts that saw me back pedalling again. I rolled to the left and came up on one knee to meet a downward chop that turned into several repeated strikes and forced me to once again roll backwards. I came up immediately and side stepped, then darted sideways once more as she came in at me with a savage tempo. I could see she planned to keep on the offensive this time, not giving me a moment to thinking about a counter offensive. I changed my defence several times, first evading, then parrying, then rolling right out of the way. She never let up. I watched her attacks for a pattern, a sign that would let me see her next blow, her end game attack. She was good. Maybe better than me, but I had one thing that was clear after several minutes of this. I had experience. Although each attack was executed nearly flawlessly, soon she was running out of different ways to strike at me. My constant drilling and sparing with a far better swordsman than I was paying off.
Then she made a mistake. She used the same attack three times in a row, two high then one thrust. I made sure to meet each one with seemingly weakening resolve, until she began her third attempt. I waiting until her last thrust and pivoted neatly to the side completely evading what before I had clumsily parried. A solid blow to her hand guard and she cried out in pain and stumbled as her sword was knocked out of her grip. I brought my sword up to her throat
and pressed the tip to her chin. She was wild eyed and we were both panting.
There was something primeval in her look. Violence and sex had always been deep rooted concepts that seemed to orbit each other, and there was a raw vitality to our exertions that right then at that moment, I could see us tearing ourselves free of the sweat soaked jumpsuits and feeding the lust that rose up in us. At that moment I was glad that Zoe and I were together, for I knew that I would forever regret what my lizard brain was contemplating. I regained control of my senses and lowered my blade, stepping aside to let her retrieve her sword.
“Well done.” She said, respectively.
“You were pretty decent, yourself.”
“Those weren’t Star Marine moves you pulled.”
“No, they were Garz’a lurzak manoeuvres. Crege’s been teaching me for a few years now.”
“If you were using a real lurzak blade that last blow would have removed my whole arm.”
“Probably. I recognised a few of your own moves. Not too many military schools teach those styles. Eridanian?”
“This again?”
“Dog with a bone, remember?”
“Okay, you beat me, you deserve something.”
“Hit me.”
“Esper Royal Guard, then a few more specialised roles in the Esper Royal Service.”
“Huh. That’s how you knew about the Coil Wraith and those synthetics on the Viridian March?”
“Yeah, been a while since I was a Royalist though.”
“What made you leave?”
“Politics.”
I laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“The only reason we ever enter, and then leave the service. Politics.”
“I thought you drummed out medically?”
“Nope. They wanted to parade me around as the hero of the Push. Sole survivor and all that rubbish.”
“Yeah, that would suck. Being a famous hero and all.”
“I’m no hero, Art. I’m just the lucky son of a bitch who made it back alive.”
“And here we are, dragging your heroic arse back into it.”
“Here we are.”
Dreaming of Atmosphere Page 36
