The sunlight gleaming on her armor, Keeva whipped him again. "Go crawl into your hole, maggot. Ready this hunk of junk for battle." The ashai grinned and licked her teeth. "I look forward to seeing you on the front line. I will enjoy watching your ship explode like a collapsing star when the enemy strikes."
"So . . . no to the cocoa then."
She kicked him into the dust. Her fellow ashai soldiers laughed, spat on him, then turned to leave.
Riff groaned, lying on the ground of the starship lot. He felt too weak to rise, too weak to even crawl the remaining distance toward the Dragon Huntress. The past few hours were hazy, perhaps memories, perhaps feverish dreams. He remembered standing in the gulag, ready to fight whatever other aliens they tossed at him. He remembered the great, golden platform flying in, the royal family of Ashmar standing atop it: the king, the prince . . . and Nova. All pointing at him. All speaking words he could not hear. And then Keeva and the other soldiers dragging him away, tossing him into a vessel, beating him . . . then finally dumping him back here on the starship lot. Bruised. Alone. Alive.
Riff gritted his teeth.
He tried to rise, swayed, and fell.
The Dragon Huntress still stood in the distance, only a hundred meters away, yet so far. Too far for him, for his weakened body, a body the ashais had beaten too many times.
Riff crawled.
Meter by meter, he dragged himself through the dust toward his ship. Because the Dragon Huntress was not just a ship. She was a home. She was the home where his family awaited him. Steel, his brother. Sweet little Twig. Not-as-sweet, not-as-little Romy. And tied up, perhaps still alive, perhaps still needing him, Giga.
Are you there too, Nova? He coughed and crawled another meter forward. Do you await me there too?
A golden woman stood ahead, holding a whip, clad in kaijia armor, hair billowing in the sunlight.
Riff winced, sure it was the cruel Keeva, perhaps one of the others, ready to beat him again, to kill him so close to his home, to cut him with her electric whip. The ashai woman stepped closer, and Riff shuddered, ready for pain, ready for death.
The ashai knelt before him and touched his hair.
"Oh, Riff . . . you look awful."
He blinked up at her.
"Nova," he whispered.
The princess smiled at him, but tears filled her eyes, flowed down her cheeks, and fell onto him. "It's me, Riff. It's your Nova."
"Lovely planet you've got here," he whispered hoarsely. "Always fun to meet the girlfriend's family. But I think it's time to go home. Help me back to the Dragon, will you?"
He struggled to his feet, and she helped him rise. He leaned against her. She lowered her head, weeping now. She embraced him.
"Riff," she whispered. "Sweet Riff. I'm sorry, I . . ." She touched his cheek, and she kissed him.
It was a deep kiss, a kiss they flowed into, bodies pressed together, a kiss that tasted of her tears.
"What is it, Nova?" he whispered, holding her. "Why do you cry? I don't look that bad, do I?"
She laughed softly. She cupped his cheek in her palm. "You are beautiful, Riff. I've always thought you're beautiful."
He stiffened. "Not ruggedly handsome? I prefer ruggedly handsome."
Her tears kept falling. "My ruggedly handsome hero. I'm sorry, Riff. I'm so sorry." Her body trembled. "But . . . I can never return. I can never fly with you again."
Suddenly he missed Keeva's whips.
"Why?" he whispered.
She held him tightly. "I had to make a deal. I had to promise to my father. He'll help us. He'll fly with us to the Singularity. His fleet will attack the machines . . . but only if you fly with us, leading the Dragon Huntress. And only if . . . only if I fly with him, fly as the heiress of Ashmar." She trembled. "Fly without you."
He blinked, not understanding. "Nova, but . . . after the war, when we win, you'll come back, right? Back to the Alien Hunters?"
Tears spiked her lashes. She seemed unable to say anymore. She kissed him again, and this kiss was desperate, trembling, afraid . . . and then she tore away from him. She ran.
"Nova!" he cried. "Nova, come back!"
She leaped into a small scorpion starjet and blasted away. Dust flew in her wake. And she was gone. And he knew she was never coming back.
"Nova," he whispered, reaching out to her, but all that remained of her starjet was a vapor trail in the red sky. "Nova, don't . . ."
She left me. She left us. The pain clutched his chest. For our war. For the cosmos.
His eyes stung. There was hope now. Ashmar would fight. Fleets would attack the Singularity. Life would rise against the machines. But Nova was gone, and the cosmos seemed darker than ever before.
Riff stumbled across the dust toward the Dragon Huntress, his dented, charred, beautiful, empty starship. A ship that would never feel the same.
He tugged the door open, struggled up the stairs, and stepped onto the main deck.
Romy leaped up from the couch, scattering dinosaur vitamins.
"Riff!" The demon's eyes filled with tears, and she ran toward him. "Riff, what happened to you? I was so scared!"
Steel rushed onto the deck, and soon Twig joined him, and they guided Riff to the couch, began bandaging his wounds, crying, laughing, bombarding him with questions.
Riff could barely answer. The world seemed to sway around him.
I'm home, he thought. I'm home but Nova is gone, and Piston is gone, and Giga is broken, and I don't know how to bring them back.
* * * * *
Nova stood on the bridge of the starstriker, a warrior-princess in armor, her whip in her hand, an army at her call, and she felt hollow. She felt alone.
Engines roared as the starstriker rose from the spaceport. The control bridge, a massive chamber of metal and glass, thrummed around her. Ashai officers filled the place, some at control panels, some bustling about, and others standing at portholes, staring outside at the fire and red dust rising around them.
Through the storm, Nova saw nine other starstrikers rising from the planet. Each was massive, a starship the size of a town, two kilometers from prow to stern. They were flat, golden vessels, sleek and gleaming, roaring out fire. Each carried on its back five hundred scorpion starjets, tiny assault vessels of fury. These small, single-seater jets could not survive the depths of open space. The starstrikers, gargantuan warships that could topple planets, would carry them to their destination like a mother scorpion carrying her eggs.
We fly to the Achernar star, she thought. To the planet Antikythera, home of the Singularity. We fly to war, to glory, perhaps to death. Nova lowered her head. And I fly without them.
The ten starstrikers kept roaring up through the atmosphere of Ashmar, blasting down their fire. Looking out the viewpanes of the Bronze Blade, flagship of the armada, Nova could soon see the entire city below. The towers like swords, the labyrinth of streets, even the palace seemed so small from up here. The fleet kept rising until Nova could see the wilderness of Ashmar beyond the city: barren mountains, red valleys, snaking canyons. A harsh land. A land of warriors. The land she had chosen to return to, swapping the man she loved for this fleet of fury.
And there, flying among the starstrikers, she saw his vessel.
The HMS Dragon Huntress roared through the air, blasting out flames. The dragon starship seemed so small by the starstrikers, no larger than a gnat among lions.
You're there, flying it, Nova thought, staring down at the dragon. Her throat tightened. She would never see him again, the man who had stolen her off her planet, had stolen her heart, only to break and mend it. She would never see her friends again. Steel Starfire, stern and proud, her brother-in-arms, the man she had fought so many enemies with. Twig, small and brilliant, a little miracle worker. Romy—silly Romy with her board games, dolls, the laughter Nova had thought annoying but now missed.
I even miss Giga, Nova thought, lowering her head. Giga who fell to the Singularity, whom maybe . . . maybe I can still
save.
The roar of the engines faded to a hum as the fleets soared through the last few kilometers of atmosphere. They emerged into open space. The stars spread around them, and Planet Ashmar rolled below, red and silent. It seemed almost peaceful from up here, no longer that land of pain, betrayal, death, blood . . . just a reddish ball in the darkness. The ten starstrikers arranged themselves in formation, heading away from their world. Five thousand scorpion jets perched on their backs. Among them all, a mote of dust in a sunbeam, flew the Dragon Huntress.
"He's going to die, you know." The voice rose behind her. "He'll be first to die."
Nova spun around from the viewpane to see her brother approach her.
Senka wore his battle armor today; above his thin suit of kaijia he sported thick, burnished plates. His whip hung on his left hip, his gun on his right. His hair hung down his back, as golden and bright as his armor, and his eyes shone, purest emeralds. Nova had spent her time with the Alien Hunters fighting in the muck—covered in mud, in the blood of her enemies and friends, cut and bruised. She knew that war was ugly, dirty, a thing of fire and guts and flesh ripping apart. But to Senka, war was still pretty, still more of ceremony than death.
That perfect, polished armor of yours will crack and leak your blood, she thought. You won't be so pretty then.
"Don't be so quick to discount the humans." She spoke softly. "Earth's history is full of conquests in war, no less than ours, some would say more."
Senka snorted. "An ape may claim victory after slaying a monkey in a forest. Look at the humans!" He gestured out into space. "Flying in a rusted tin can while we fly here in glory." He stepped closer, grabbed Nova's arm, and snarled. "Do not think I'm fooled like Father. I know who you are. Nothing but a filthy human-lover."
She tugged her arm free and raised an eyebrow. "And yet I'm heiress to this empire. And you, my brother, are nothing at all."
"We shall see." Eyes blazing with fury, he spun around and marched off the bridge.
Nova walked closer to the viewpanes. The glass stretched from floor to ceiling, several times her height, affording a view of the ashai fleet. The starstrikers turned toward open space, and the red planet faded from view. Nova stared at the stars. One of those stars, many light-years away, was Achernar.
"There you wait for me," she whispered. "The Singularity."
She turned toward her officers. The men and women stared back, eyes hard. Nova nodded.
The starstrikers of Ashmar thrummed, hyperdrive engines heating up. With blasts of light, they burst forward. The stars streaked around them, and colors floated as spacetime curved. They shot forward, moving at many times the speed of light.
Among them, almost too small to see, flew the Dragon Huntress, the ship Nova would never enter again.
I fly to war. I fly to a new life. I fly away from you, Riff.
She stood for a long time on the bridge, staring out at the stars.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:
SPACE ON FIRE
Riff sat alone in the Dragon Huntress's bridge, staring out into hyperspace.
I'm on my ship. But is this still home?
The lights streamed ahead, lines of white and blue, and between them floated splotches of light. The ship was quiet. Steel was back in crew quarters, silently praying before the battle ahead. Twig was down in the engine room, fixing a loose coil in the thruster engines, perhaps simply avoiding him. Giga was locked up, and Nova . . .
Riff looked at the starstrikers that flew ahead, colossal starships that dwarfed his own. Each of the flat, golden vessels carried hundreds of scorpion fighters on its back. Each carried an army that could destroy most planets.
"You're on one of those ships, Nova." His voice was soft. "Are you thinking of me? Or are you busy commanding troops, preparing for war, fulfilling your destiny . . . the destiny I had kept from you for so many years?"
Riff lowered his head. He missed her. He missed her so much he ached.
He turned away from the view, and he looked at the doorway leading to the dark staircase. Down there, in the belly of the ship, the second woman of his life sat in chains. Perhaps forever gone from him too.
And I miss you too, Giga.
Suddenly this whole damn war felt pointless. What was he fighting for? He had lost everything. His home. The woman he loved. His dearest companion. What did he have left that was worth fighting for?
He clenched his fists, closed his eyes, and tightened his jaw.
You're acting like a child, he told himself. A spoiled, petulant child.
Perhaps he had lost everything else, but he still had this ship. He still had his brother. He still had his crew.
"I will fight for you," he whispered. "Always."
Somebody gasped. "For me?"
Riff opened his eyes and saw fire burn in the corridor. Romy stepped into the bridge, her hair of flame crackling. The firelight shone upon her red skin, fangs and claws, and purple dinosaur pajamas. She held her beloved teddy bear.
Riff nodded. "For you, Romy."
He expected her to laugh, to run forward and embrace him, to ask him to play counter-squares or wrestle. But the demon only approached hesitantly, eyes lowered. A tear gleamed on her cheek.
"Romy, what's wrong?"
She stepped closer to him. They stood together on the bridge as the lights of hyperspace streamed around them.
"Captain, I . . ." She sniffed, then suddenly burst into tears. "I caused this all! It's all my fault."
"Romy!" He held her. "None of this is your fault. Enough of that."
"But it is!" She looked at him with wet eyes. "When you were outside on Haven, I insulted Giga. By accident! I was talking to the robotic isopods, that's all. I said that they're stupid robots, that I hate robots. And Giga heard me. She ran off, thinking I meant her. And . . . when I saw her again, she was all evil. With red eyes. Trying to kill me, to kill everyone. And she burned the halflings, and . . ." Romy sobbed. "It's all my fault."
"Romy . . ." Riff embraced her and smoothed her flaming hair—soft, warm flames that did not burn him. "None of this is your fault. What happened to Giga is nobody's fault. Nobody but the people who built these machines, who let these robots get out of hand." He looked into Romy's eyes. "Do you understand?"
She nodded. "Really?"
"Really."
She sniffed, then tugged up Riff's shirt and blew her nose right onto it. A grin split her face. "Okay. Thank you!"
Riff grimaced, his shirt dripping demon-mucus. "There are tissues right over there, Romy."
"Why, you need some?" She squared her shoulders and raised her chin. "Captain, I want to make you a promise. I know that I'm childish. I know that I'm silly and stupid. Nova is the strong one, but she's away now. Piston is the smart one, but he's retired. Giga is the loyal one, but she's broken. So I'm going to promise you this, Captain. That I'll be a heroine. I'll be as strong, loyal, and smart as I can be, and I'll look after you. I'll protect you the way Nova and Giga and Piston used to."
"Well . . ." He cleared his throat. "You know, I'm not completely useless without them."
"Don't try to be brave! No need for a show, sir. You have me now. Cadet Romy, reporting to duty, sir." She saluted, her elbow knocking into a joystick. The ship lurched and Riff had to grab the controls and yank it away from a starstriker.
"That's wonderful, Romy." Riff patted her head. "Now, if you could just report to duty in the attic . . ."
"Yes, sir!" She grinned, and her wagging tail slapped a control panel. Plasma roared out of the Dragon Huntress's mouth into space.
Riff winced. "Romy . . . now."
She skipped off the bridge, singing a song about spiders and scorpions, then wailed as she tumbled down the stairs.
Riff sighed and sat back in his seat.
I'm not alone, he thought. Not while I have my crew.
The fleet kept sailing through the darkness, heading to the land of the machines.
* * * * *
Nova was standing o
n the bridge of the Bronze Blaze, the flagship of her fleet, when the enemy ships soared into hyperspace and charged toward her.
For just one instant—a single heartbeat—Nova stared in terror, frozen.
A thousand of the enemy ships popped into existence around her, streaming forth, leaving wakes of fire. She knew they were Singularity ships, flying machines without life within them. They had no cockpits, no windows. They were shaped like iron stars, jagged, spikey, great sea urchins the size of buildings. They pulsed out light and energy that slammed against the Bronze Blade, thrumming, shrieking, screaming.
Screaming for her death. For the death of all life.
The instant of terror ended.
Nova sprang into action.
"All pilots, to the scorpions!" she shouted into the intercom. "All pilots to—"
Yet as she shouted into the microphone, it was not her voice that emerged from the speakers, booming across the starstriker. It was the voice of the Singularity.
"Hello, sacks of flesh. Hello, living bags of rot." The spiky iron ships zoomed outside, leaving wakes of fire. "Welcome to your death. Welcome to the rise of the machines."
The voice began to cackle, then to scream, a metallic screech, deafening. Across the bridge, the ashai commanders covered their ears and doubled over. One man who stood near the speakers cried out, his voice lost under the screech. Blood dripped from his ears.
"Turn it off!" Nova shouted. "Cut all communication channels!"
She stumbled toward the controls. Outside the viewpanes, starstrikers were listing, tumbling. The jagged Singularity ships flew toward them, slamming into hulls. Explosions rocked space as the spiky urchins tore into Ashmar's golden fleet. The scorpion fighter jets remained idle upon the starstrikers. The screeching continued, rising louder and louder. Another ashai fell, eardrums pierced. Cracks raced along the viewpanes.
Gods damn it.
Nova swung her whip. The lash slammed into the control panel, shattering it, cutting off the speakers. The sound died at once. Her ears rang, feeling so heavy, full of fluid. Her head spun. Nova felt as if two meaty gruffle fists had slammed into her temples.
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