by M. R. Forbes
There was a second stairwell on the opposite side of the garage. The door to it opened at the same time Olus climbed into the car, a squad of soldiers in black pouring into the space.
“Too late,” Olus said, tapping the controls for the car.
The Presser coils beneath the vehicle made a sizzling noise as they came to life, the electric motors emitting a soft whine. The skids retracted, and Olus guided the vehicle forward, accelerating toward the currently closed exit.
The soldiers began shooting, the bullets pinging against the armored shell of the car. Olus guided it with one hand, using the other to reach the gate controls. He pressed his hand against the screen to enter his credentials, unconvinced the system would let him through.
“Come on,” he said. “Come on.”
The gate started to open.
“Thank you,” Olus said, guiding the car through. He increased the throttle, pushing it to full as the car entered the long tunnel that would lead to a hidden surface exit three kilometers away.
He sat back in his seat, giving himself a second to relax.
He wasn’t safe. Not yet. Not until he disabled the beacon. At least he was clear of the Pentagon.
It was a start.
5
“Are you sure you want to see this?” Gant asked.
“You were the one who suggested I should,” Abbey replied.
“I was trying to make a point. Once you’ve seen it for yourself, it’s going to haunt you.”
“I’ve got plenty of other things haunting me right now. What’s one more? I need to see it.”
Gant moved aside, allowing Abbey to reach the door controls and open the hatch into the engine room. It slid aside, and she walked forward without hesitating, bypassing the main terminal and heading for the secured door beyond.
“I don’t want to see it,” Dak said, standing outside.
“You don’t have to,” Abbey replied. “But you do have to unlock the terminal. You said you know the code.”
“Yeah.”
He entered the room, making sure to keep his head down. Abbey paused her advance to watch him. He activated the terminal, big fingers slowly typing in the codes to unlock the security on it.
“There you go, new Boss,” he said as the projection changed, providing a full control interface.
“Open it,” she said.
“Do I have to?”
“Yes.”
He put his hand up and tapped an icon in the projection. A soft hiss followed from the door ahead of her, the compartment adjusting pressure or something. Then it slid away.
It had been silent before the door opened. Not now. Abbey set herself and moved forward, forcing herself to confront the truth of the Brimstone’s operation. In her entire life, she would never have imagined the horror of what Gant had described, or that it would be a real and viable means to power a starship.
And other things, according to Jequn. What kind of things? She didn’t want to know. She hoped never to find out.
She let her eyes sweep the room. She felt her heart begin beating faster, thumping hard in reaction to the visual data her brain was receiving. She could hear the soft moans, the pained breaths. The smell was nearly unbearable.
“Whew,” Dak said. “The smell.”
She could hear him gagging behind her.
“Close it,” she said. “I’ll knock.”
The hatch slid closed behind her.
She moved forward. There wasn’t much space in the compartment, but she had to see it all. She had to surround herself with it. She had made the decision that if they captured any more of the ships they would keep them. She couldn’t be that callous about it. She couldn’t be that cold. Maybe they called her the Demon Queen, but she hadn’t changed into a real demon yet.
She moved to the device in the center, leaning over and looking into the clear tubing where the darker blood flowed. She couldn’t see individual naniates, but she could imagine them in there, trillions-strong, flowing throughout the vessel. What kind of properties did the machines possess? Were they intelligent, or did they react purely based on inputs? What were their weaknesses and limitations? Gant had been immune to them, as though they were afraid of him. What did that mean, if anything?
She stood up, turning and looking at one of the humans attached to the wall. A woman. Her eyes were closed. Her chest rose and fell lightly. She looked almost peaceful. Abbey’s eyes dipped to the tubes running into and out of her body. One was clear. The nutrients that kept her alive. One was slightly yellowish. The waste being drawn out. One was red. The blood.
“Can you hear me?” she said softly. “Can any of you hear me?”
She watched them. They didn’t react to her voice or her presence. She moved deeper into the space. The machine in the center of it was larger than she had expected, a mostly rectangular shape that continued to the rear of the compartment. There had to be at least five hundred bodies in here. Probably more.
She closed her eyes. She was getting nauseous. This wasn’t right. None of this was right.
She turned around, heading back for the exit.
Something grabbed her shoulder.
She turned, wide-eyed, looking at the human positioned against the wall, bound by the hardened shell that glued them there. He had worked a hand free and used it to reach out to her. His eyes were open, looking at her.
“Help me,” he said.
Abbey’s whole body began to shake. The Gift came alive within her, reacting to it. She stared at the man, into his eyes. She saw a light reflected there. It was the same light she had seen when the Gift had tried to wrest control from her.
“Help me,” the man repeated.
Abbey could feel the tears begin to stream from her eyes. She was strong, but she wasn’t this strong.
She pulled herself away from him, rushing to the hatch. She pounded on it until Dak looked up and quickly activated the controls to open it. She fell through, stumbling to her knees on the other side.
She heard him one last time as the hatch slid closed.
“Help me.”
Then she vomited.
“Queenie,” Gant said, coming to her side.
“I barfed, too,” Dak said, joining them.
Abbey leaned over the floor, her whole body convulsing. She stayed that way for a few minutes, trying to reconcile what she had seen, trying to calm the Gift. What did it want from her? Why had it reacted that way?
She pushed herself up, sitting with her back against the door. She reached up, wiping the tears away. She looked over at Gant, his concerned expression nearly cutting through her horror and getting her to laugh.
“You were right. I shouldn’t have come down here.” She banged her head against the hatch and squeezed her eyes closed.
She knew they were fighting monsters. This was a step beyond.
“We’re going to destroy them, right?” Gant said. “The ships on Kell. The Brimstone, when the time comes?”
She opened her eyes to look at him again. “I don’t know.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know?”
“This sucks, Gant. It really does. But we need the Brimstone. We may need those ships. You heard Jequn. The Seraphim are almost gone. They won the war because of a weapon of mass destruction, one they can’t use again. If we’re going to win, we have to match them.”
“We can find another way.”
“Come on, Gant. I know you better than that. You aren’t a dreamer. You know there’s no magic bullet. This is the way right now, as much as we both hate it. And I do hate it.”
Gant made a squeaking noise that her translator told her was a sigh. “Yeah. I guess we do, for now. Just tell me we’ll keep our options open.”
“Of course. In the meantime, see if you can figure out what this setup is, and how it works. Maybe there are schematics in the control system. If we can find a weakness, something that will work to shut this down, an EMP or something, we can end their suffering.”
&
nbsp; “Aye, Queenie.”
“I’m going to have another chat with Jequn. If we’re supposed to attack Kell, I expect some more damn help than one Ophanim.”
She pushed herself to her feet, refusing to look back into the engine compartment. What was the light she had seen behind their eyes? The one she had seen before. The one Thraven had seemed so intrigued by? It had to mean something. Didn’t it?
“I expect to speak to General Kett.”
6
Abbey found Jequn in the quarters they had given her, a small but private space close to the Captain’s Quarters. They were only a dozen minutes from arriving at Machina Four, and she intended to be on and off the planet as quickly as possible, pausing only to pick up necessary replies and effect important repairs on the Brimstone’s systems. Now that she had seen what at least some of those systems were composed of she knew it might get tricky, but enough money would go a long way to keeping any engineers she hired quiet.
In that sense, it had worked out in their favor that they had never actually paid the Crescent Haulers. The two disterium canisters in their possession would go a long way with shrewd bargaining, and what the hell else was Benhil there for, if not to manage those kinds of transactions?
“Queenie,” Jequn said, her door opening. “I wasn’t expecting you so soon.”
“I just went down to the engine room. You should too.”
“I know what’s down there.”
“But have you seen it?”
“No.”
“You need to see it. It will change your understanding of what this is all about.”
“Very well.”
“Not now. I need something else from you right now.”
“Of course. How can I help?”
“I want to talk to Kett.”
Jequn looked away. “Queenie, I can’t.”
“Why the hell not? He wants me to be part of this, he’s raising an army to fight, but he won’t talk to his supposed prize fighter?”
“It’s not that. I mean, I can’t. I don’t know how to reach him.”
Abbey froze. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“If Thraven had captured me on Anvil, he could have forced me to reveal Kett’s comm codes. It’s possible he could have used them to backtrace the signal to Kett’s location.”
“Do you know how difficult that is?”
“Yes. Difficult, but not impossible.”
“So what’s the expectation here, Jequn?” Abbey said. “The Rejects are supposed to assault Kell on our own? Half a dozen soldiers versus an entire military installation? You said he was raising an army.”
“He is.”
“What the frag is it for if he isn’t going to help me attack Thraven?”
“His intention is to join the fight, Queenie. His orders were to help you. You need to prove yourself before he’s going to commit what’s left of the Ophanim.”
“Prove myself? Not that bullshit again. Thraven said the same thing.”
“The Nephilim’s Gift can change you. It’s meaningful that you turned Thraven’s advances down in a direct confrontation, but now you have to prove that you’re worth rallying behind. We’ll only have one chance at this.”
Abbey clenched her fist. This was ridiculous. The Sylvan Kett she knew was a legend for his ability to do more with less. Not his ability to do nothing.
“And if I’m not? Then what? You’ll just keep hiding?”
“General Kett has a backup plan.”
“Which is?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t tell me.”
Abbey was silent for a moment, her anger simmering. She was getting sick and tired of being used as a pawn. First by Thraven, then by the Republic, and now by Kett and the Seraphim. She didn’t have to do any of this. She could take the Rejects and fly away, disappear somewhere into the Outworlds and let the shit come down wherever it was going to land.
Except there was Hayley and Liv and Gavin. She couldn’t abandon them. She couldn’t abandon the poor souls suffering in the engine room so that they could shoot around the galaxy. She couldn’t abandon the individuals on Anvil who she was sure Thraven had taken. She had joined the Republic Armed Services to protect people. She didn’t know how to do anything else.
Whether she was turning into some kind of demon or not, that would never change.
“Then we’re doing things my way,” she said. “If Kett wants in, he’ll get in on my terms.”
“What does that mean?” Jequn asked.
Abbey smiled. She had no idea if the Ophanim had access to Kett or not. She wasn’t about to give anything away.
“You’ll just have to wait to find out. We’ll be at Machina Four in five minutes. Meet us in the hangar.”
“As you wish, Queenie.”
Abbey nodded, turning and leaving the room. Kett had a backup plan? Good.
She had a plan of her own.
7
“I want to be able to trust you,” Abbey said.
She was standing at the edge of the docking system. Dak was in front of her. The Trover looked different than he had on Anvil. He had cleaned himself up and changed, putting on a crisp uniform that displayed his rank. She had noticed he had gotten the rest of Ursan Gall’s remaining mercenaries to do the same, immediately turning them back into an organized force. Whether or not it was an effective one was yet to be determined.
“I won’t lie to you, Queenie,” Dak said. “We were mercenaries for a long time before we joined up with Thraven. We worked for money, and that’s it. It wasn’t a bad life. Now? Ursan’s dead. It isn’t your fault. I heard you. I know you tried to talk him out of it. He was too far gone, and I blame Thraven for that. The Outworlds? Tro is in the Republic, but my father brought me to New Terra when I was your size. I grew up there, and I’m loyal to it. But I also know it doesn’t matter which side we’re on. Outworld. Republic. Thraven doesn’t give a shit. He attacked Anvil. He attacked Drune. He ordered us to attack a Republic fleet. The more chaos he can create, the easier it will be for him. Frag that.”
“Is that your way of saying you’re with me?”
“I already told you I was. It’s my way of saying you can trust me. Giving you the reasons you can. I won’t turn tail and take the Brimstone. I don’t plan to remove the individuals you’re leaving behind. I want to help you kill Thraven.”
Trovers didn’t have well-defined features, making Dak’s face hard to read. Abbey watched his body language, instead. She pierced his eyes with her own. Spotting tells was part of her training. She was certain enough he wasn’t lying that she was willing to take the chance, and the idea of asking him to prove himself worthy was leaving a bitter taste in her mouth.
“Nerd,” Abbey said.
“Aye, Queenie?” Erlan replied from the bridge.
“Commander Dak is going to be in charge of the Brimstone while I’m gone. Follow his orders.”
“Aye, Queenie.”
Abbey looked at Dak again. “Don’t make me regret this. If you do, I promise I’ll find you.”
Dak nodded. “I believe that. On my honor, Boss.”
He saluted. A Republic salute. Crisp and sharp. She returned it.
Then she turned to the docking airlock, moving through it and into the Faust. The Rejects were waiting on the other side. Pik, Benhil, Gant, Bastion, and Jequn. She pointed at Bastion.
“You need a new callsign.”
“I like Lucifer,” he replied.
“In light of recent events, Lucifer is off the table.”
Bastion didn’t complain. He shrugged. “Can I go back to Worm?”
“You should pick it, Queenie,” Pik said.
“Shut up,” Bastion replied. “She’s going to call me A-hole.”
“Or worse,” Benhil said. “Go for it, Queenie.”
Abbey smiled. “Something appropriate. Let me think. Crybaby? Whiner? Loudmouth?” She looked at him, watching his reaction to each of the names.
“I’m not that bad,” he
said.
“You do talk too much sometimes,” Gant said. “Most of the time. I like A-hole.”
“Of course, you would say that,” Bastion said. “Fr-”
“Don’t,” Gant warned.
“Loudmouth is suitable, but too much of a mouthful to say efficiently,” Abbey said. “How about Imp, in honor of the first ship you got shot down in?”
“I’ll take Loudmouth,” Bastion said. “Or we can shorten it to Mouth. That would work.”
“You don’t get to pick,” Pik said. “Not this time.”
“Yeah, not this time,” Benhil said.
“I hate all of you,” Bastion said.
“Good,” Abbey replied. “Imp, head up to the cockpit and get us headed to the surface.”
Bastion glowered. The others laughed.
“Fraggers,” he said, leaving them and heading up the ladder.
Abbey hit the controls for the docking system, closing the airlocks. She turned to Benhil. “You know what our necessities are, right?”
“Aye, Queenie,” he replied. “A new hand for the big guy, a hush-hush repair crew for the Brimstone, and an upgrade to our existing arsenal.” He smiled. “I assume you want an entire closet full of softsuits? You go through what? Three per day?”
“Give or take. If you can find them in red, I would appreciate it.”
“I’ve been the Machina Four before. I got picked up by the Republic on my way back from here. I know the individuals you want to meet with.”
“We need the disterium to go as far as we can take it,” Abbey said. “I expect you to haggle your ass off.”
“Aye, Queenie.”
“Hey Queenie,” Pik said. “I just noticed.” He pointed down at her head. “Feel your skull. You’ve got a fuzz coming in.”
