The Planet Thieves

by Dan Krokos

  Without warning, the ship accelerated. Hard. It had already been moving, but now the speed had them all bracing their legs for balance. Where were they going? Mason said, “Elizabeth? Location.”

  “We’re in the Coffey system, Captain Stark,” she said in his ear.

  Nori-Blue’s system. Three hundred and two light years from Earth. The Tremist had the gate, and they were going to use it. Things were happening too fast. Mason had to retake the bridge now. “Is the king’s Hawk still nearby?”

  Another pause. “Captain, they’ve deactivated my long-range scanners. I’m blind.”

  The Tremist on the bridge were taking Elizabeth apart piece by piece, it seemed. Soon she’d be under their control completely.

  Time to move.

  “Any questions?” he asked the group.

  “What about the Rhadgast?” Jeremy said.

  Mason clenched his teeth.

  “What?” Jeremy said, glancing around. “I heard Elizabeth talk about it.”

  The cadets instantly appeared shaken, shifting from foot to foot, whispering the word like bad gossip.

  “Sorry,” Elizabeth said.

  Mason held up his hands; the cadets fell silent. “If there is a Rhadgast, we deal with it together. It’s still made out of the same stuff as us.”

  “We don’t know that,” Stellan said helpfully.

  “Everything is made of atoms,” Merrin countered.

  “I heard they steal your soul,” one cadet, a skinny brown-haired boy, said.

  “Yeah! I heard they drink blood, like a vampyre,” said a second year, by the look of her.

  “Space vampyre,” said another.

  “Enough,” Mason said. “If you want to run to an escape shuttle and take your chances in the cold black, I won’t stop you.” He held their gazes one by one, until he was as sure as possible that they’d hold it together. “Are you ESC?”

  “We are, sir,” Merrin said. She winked, because they both knew it was a joke for her to call him sir after all they’d been through together.

  “Then let’s do it,” Mason said. Four buttons were next to the door, three green and one red. He pressed all three green simultaneously, and the door slid open with a blast of air. It took a certain amount of faith to jump out into a room that was nearly as large as the main storage bay. The door opened on nothing but air, and a drop many, many levels down. So high up that the magnetic forklifts at the bottom were tiny, like toys. And where he stood, the gravity was a very real thing. He couldn’t see the upper levels without leaning too far into the bay: there was an overhang above the door that blocked his view.

  But a captain had to go first. Taking a deep breath, Mason grabbed both sides of the door and flung himself into the open space.

  Chapter Sixteen

  As he shot into the bay, Mason’s heart stopped pounding so hard—partly because it no longer had to work against the forces of gravity, and partly from relief. He did not fall: he flew.

  The level the cadets were on was halfway up the side of the bay, which was twenty levels tall like the storage bay. But this bay was narrower, like a rectangle stood on end, and instead of open levels, there were just doors in the walls, and handholds between them for maneuvering. The handholds looked like hundreds of scars in the wall, and they were all a person had to hold on to if gravity was suddenly returned to the bay. A number on the wall across from Mason read 11, so he was eleven levels up from the bottom.

  Mason was flying faster than he’d anticipated, but that wouldn’t be a problem; he simply rotated so his feet would land on the wall he was rushing toward. He bent his knees and absorbed the impact, reaching out for the nearest handhold. There he held on across from the doorway the cadets huddled in, ten levels of empty space below him, nine above him.

  Secured to the wall, he looked straight up.

  At the top of the bay, the three Tremist were assembling the dead crew members in a line, next to a vertical access door built into the ceiling. They hadn’t noticed his entrance. He swallowed, feeling disoriented, because the Tremist were standing on the ceiling like it was the floor. Their heads were closest to him. It made Mason feel, for an instant, like he was hanging upside down. Like the floor with the magnetic forklifts below him was really the ceiling. He shook the illusion as best he could, tried to remember he could make any surface the floor, depending on how he considered it in his mind.

  The dead soldiers were stuck to the ceiling, the black ESC body bags secured somehow. Mason touched the space under his ear. “Elizabeth?”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  Mason waved at the cadets, and they began to pour through the doorway, launching themselves into the room one after another. “Do they have the gravity turned on up top or are they using magnets?” The Tremist still had their feet on the ceiling. One was staring at him, and as he watched, the other two took notice of the cadets flying into the room and rebounding off walls. This was it. The Tremist wouldn’t leave a bunch of flying ESC cadets to roam free.

  “Pick targets!” Tom called out.

  The three Tremist were pulling the talons off their backs, in what felt like slow motion. Mason prayed they wouldn’t work. He had to trust they wouldn’t work. If they did, it would only take seconds for them to bisect the cadets, who continued to move, bounding from wall to wall between levels nine and thirteen, appearing like flies caught in a glass cylinder.

  “They’re using gravity to hold themselves to the ceiling, and magnets for the body bags,” Elizabeth said. “Sir! Talons are cycling. If they find an open frequency their weapons will be able to fire in the bay!”

  “I thought you said—” He stopped himself. Adjust, adapt … don’t dwell. “Tom! Merrin!”

  Tom and Merrin were across the bay. Merrin nodded at Tom, who pushed off in Mason’s direction. Mason stole a quick look above: the Tremist were trying to figure out why their weapons weren’t firing.

  “Cycling!” Elizabeth said. “They’ll have weapons in six to nine seconds!”

  Tom hit the wall next to Mason, dataslate in one hand. “What?”

  “Turn off the ceiling’s gravity!”

  “Handholds!” Jeremy shouted to everyone. The cadets stopped their wild circular dash from wall to wall and clung to the nearest handhold. They spaced themselves evenly so as not to cluster targets.

  Tom had already pulled up the gravity-free bay controls on his slate, and thumbed a few icons. Two seconds later, the Tremist were floating free but the body bags remained in place, held fast by the magnets.

  “Fire!” Merrin shouted.

  As they surely realized that floating in the open would make them easy to burn, the three Tremist jumped off the ceiling in unison, flying down in a dive, right toward the cadets below them.

  The cadets, all of them clinging to the handholds with one hand and both feet, opened fire with their P-cannons. The balls of light the P-cannons produced were greenish-white now. They sped across the room, angled toward the ceiling, and splashed on the walls, leaving behind smoking patches the size of fists. But the Tremist were diving too fast, heading right for them. Mason watched as a few of the braver and bigger cadets collided with two of them in midair, trading punches and kicks. He tracked the third with his gun but didn’t want to risk hitting one of the cadets; the Tremist were fully mixed among them now, sharing levels nine through thirteen halfway up the walls.

  It was no good. They’d blown their chance, when the Tremist had been at a safe distance. And Mason would not accept any casualties. There was another play.

  “No!” he screamed. “Break away! Break away! Head for the walls! Stop firing!”

  They didn’t hesitate. Any cadet not already on the wall pushed off the Tremist they were engaged with and grabbed a handhold. One cadet slammed into Tom by accident, and his dataslate went spinning upward, Tom making panicked grabs for it.

  The Tremist were tumbling in space now, drifting. Two looked unharmed, but the third’s mirror-mask was cracked along the jaw.r />
  And all of them still had their talons.

  “Talon cycle complete!” Elizabeth said. “They can fire!”

  Mason watched as all three talons crackled to life, bristling with green energy.

  “Hang on!” Mason screamed. Once he saw each of the cadets secured to the wall, some above him and some below, he said, “Merrin! Gravity!”

  Merrin operated her slate, tongue between her teeth, as a green talon beam began to etch the wall next to Mason’s head. Mason flinched away, holding on, not daring to try for another handhold.

  “Any time would be good!” His whole body was tense, expecting to feel the hot, deadly bite in the next second.

  Instead, gravity resumed.

  The once-weightless blood in his body sank, and he was hanging on the wall now, as were the other cadets.

  But the Tremist had nothing to hold on to. They fell ten levels to the floor far below, never crying out or waving their arms, just dropping like stones. Mason watched as they hit the ground among the forklifts, felt each thump reverberate through the walls. A ragged cheer went up, as the cadets held on for dear life.

  “Take gravity away,” Mason said, “but secure the Tremist with magnets.” He kept his eyes on the Tremist, expecting them to move, but they didn’t. No one could survive a fall from over ten levels. Not even space vampyres.

  Merrin nodded. “Done.”

  A second later Mason pushed off the wall. The others did the same, spinning around, tumbling, doing backflips or frontflips. They still had a bridge to retake, currently held by eight other Tremist, but the victory felt good. He counted quickly: all the cadets were accounted for.

  After a few seconds, the cheers turned to gasps. Mason pushed off diagonal from the wall, not crossing the bay, but landing on the adjacent wall, where Merrin and Tom clung. They had their heads tilted back, eyes on the ceiling.

  Mason followed their gaze.

  And saw the Rhadgast dive through the ceiling door and into the bay.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Grab the wall!” Mason shouted, and heard it echo among the recruits: Grab the wall grabthewall! They scrambled through space, reaching out for the nearest handhold. Mason only barely registered the movement around him. His eyes were on the Rhadgast descending toward them.

  The Tremist wizard seemed to slow under his own power, drifting down, righting himself in the air so he came feet first. He was cloaked in a billowing black robe that flowed away from his body, expanding like wings. The mask was typical Tremist, but instead of a mirror, his blank oval face throbbed with violet light. Looking directly into the mask burned Mason to his core. It was like staring into the face of a demon. Mason was no longer captain of the SS Egypt; he was just another cadet out of his league.

  The Rhadgast wore purple gloves up to his elbows. Gloves that crackled with violet electricity. Bright tendrils of it crawled up and down the sleeves. As the Rhadgast flowed down in a controlled descent, a sudden burst of light filled the room, emanating from the gloves. The electricity lanced out, snapping through space, and shocked the nearest cadet, sending him into spasms. Someone screamed; Mason hoped it wasn’t him. It only lasted a second, but when he blinked the zapped cadet was crying, his uniform smoking. It knocked Mason back to reality, the injury of one of his soldiers sharpening his senses and turning the anger into something he could use.

  “Release your weapons!” the Rhadgast hissed, sounding part machine and part snake.

  “Yeah, right,” Merrin muttered.

  “Fire!” Mason screamed in response.

  All at once, P-cannon fire lit up the bay. The Rhadgast flew around impossibly, turning tight loops and diving and rising again, like a shark that swam through air, avoiding the photon balls that seemed slow in comparison.

  The Rhadgast zapped another cadet. This one’s leg caught fire. Mason didn’t stop shooting, but saw in the corner of his eye as the boy beat at his leg. Luckily Stellan was right there to help smother it. He tried to anticipate the Rhadgast’s movements, but none of the photon balls came close. It was useless, and soon their weapons would be overheated, and they would be at the monster’s mercy.

  Mason knew what he had to do. The Rhadgast would either kill them or disarm them, and neither of those was an option.

  What would Susan do? What did she do for us already?

  “Be ready, Tom!” he said. He couldn’t say more, lest the Rhadgast know Mason’s plan. He just had to hope Tom was as quick as everyone thought. He didn’t ask Merrin, because he knew she wouldn’t do it. Not a chance.

  Tom understood. There was new respect in his eyes, for Mason and the sacrifice he had to make. “Aye, Captain…” Tom said back.

  “Hey!” Mason shouted.

  The Rhadgast spun in space. Mason wondered if he had some kind of propulsion system layered into his robe, maybe a belt that allowed him to control gravity when there was none. Or maybe it was dark magic; maybe he was a ghost. The way his faceplate glowed like a supernova, the way his robe seemed alive, lashing like a tapestry of snakes, Mason feared it was the latter possibilities.

  The Rhadgast’s gloves buzzed with electricity, the same sound they made seconds before firing. Mason tucked, then pushed off hard with both legs, rising a level and avoiding a blast on the wall where he’d just been. He felt static wash over him from behind, tickling the skin under his armor.

  His heart sang with the near miss, but he still had to keep the Rhadgast’s attention. “Nice shot!” he yelled from his new spot on the opposite wall. Hey, there wasn’t time to think of a proper comeback.

  Mason was buying time, because it was too soon to do what he had to do. It hurt him, because he didn’t want to leave anyone behind. But at the same time, maybe he would see Mom and Dad again, and they would remember him. Maybe he would see his sister. And no matter what, he would never have to be afraid again.

  By now most of the cadets had found handholds on the wall. Only a few stragglers remained, but they’d be on the wall in a few seconds. His heart pounded so hard it hurt. If he could take out the Rhadgast, Tom and Merrin would be able to retake the bridge. He knew they would. They were brave, and they knew what was at stake. His death would be worth it.

  The Rhadgast studied him now, like he was impressed Mason dodged one of his lightning attacks. Which was good. But Mason had to move now. He could only hope everyone had a good grip.

  “What are you doing?” Merrin said. “Mason, no!”

  He coiled his legs, then launched himself straight off the wall horizontally.

  The Rhadgast was about to blast him, but had to raise his hands instead to catch Mason as they collided.

  “Now, Tom!”

  Tom knew what to do. The gravity came back, and they were no longer tumbling sideways, but falling, the same way the three Tremist had fallen. The Rhadgast growled and tried to peel Mason off, but Mason held on, squeezing his eyes shut. He hoped the ground wouldn’t hurt much.

  The air roared in his ears and he heard Merrin shout “Mason!” at the top of her lungs.

  The Rhadgast began to shock him with both hands, and the current made Mason’s jaw slam shut. His skin was alive, crawling with hot bees that buzzed in his skin and stung every inch of him. His tongue got in the way of his teeth, and his mouth filled with hot blood. Mustering all his strength, he rotated in the Rhadgast’s grip until he could tuck his knees up against the Rhadgast’s chest. The numbers on each level rushed by. He saw 6, then 5. Moments to live. Almost two seconds had passed, maybe more, but it felt like his whole life. The calm came over him as level 4 blurred past, and Mason rejected it. He didn’t want to feel calm, in that instant. He didn’t want to accept anything, and he didn’t want to die in the enemy’s grasp.

  Mason screamed, pistoning off with his hands and knees, trying to leap off the Rhadgast’s chest. He tore free, kicking at the same time, the way he would kick off the bottom of a pool to reach the surface. He was falling too fast to see numbers now, but level four seemed so long a
go.

  In the next instant, he heard the Rhadgast slam into the ground—

  And gravity disappeared.

  The ground still rushed at him, but Mason’s legs were already pointed down. He fell to his knees hard and tumbled across the floor until his back banged into one of the magnetic forklifts. He drifted upward again, shaken and bruised, but the impact was only a fraction of if he’d hit full force.

  “You’re welcome!” someone called from high, high above.

  Mason blinked rapidly, clearing his head, and looked up. Tom clung to the wall still, holding his dataslate high. He’d removed gravity as soon as the Rhadgast hit. A window of less than a second. Tom had saved him.

  Mason was torn between wanting to cry and laugh. He was alive. He was still here, still able to fight. And so were the other cadets.

  The pain from the drop was fading but left behind aches. He double-checked to make sure no bones had snapped. “Report…” he said groggily. This close to the bottom, Mason looked at the now four fallen Tremist stuck to the floor. Their masks caught the light strangely, but none of them so much as twitched. His plans for questioning one would have to wait. Hopefully they could retake the bridge without killing the rest. Mason found he had no satisfaction from it, just a grim coldness in his chest. A terrible voice that said It was you or them.

  “The starboard side is now secure,” Elizabeth said, not seeming to notice how close he’d come to dying. “The eight Tremist on the bridge are now aware of your presence, but I predict they won’t leave to pursue you, since the bridge is an excellent defensive position.”

  High above, the cadets began to pull themselves down the wall. They knew better than to cheer and congratulate each other, since a Rhadgast cut their last victory dance short, but they did smile. And Mason smiled back at them. A tiny droplet of blood floated out of his mouth.

  Tom reached him first, and actually held out his fist for Mason to hit. “Nice work, Stark,” he said. The cadets were on the ground now, so Tom reinstated gravity and removed the magnets under the Tremist. Mason dropped a few inches to his feet. The cadets the Rhadgast had electrified were shaken and upset, but not mortally wounded. It seemed the Rhadgast hadn’t been shooting to kill, but to capture.