by Casey Lea
“Drak. What a drakking day.” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes while he searched for calm. The imitation sunlight that now fell on his face from a fake window did nothing to improve his mood. He was still far from relaxed when the door whistled softly. “Come,” he ordered and it was Gull who entered. Free nodded, but a smile was beyond him. “Yes?”
“Sah,” the Senior began, and then hesitated. “This is awkward-as.”
“Say it, or not, but find your mind.”
“Yessah. I’m surprised you won't chase the bustwing who tried to feed us to a singularity. This ship can still match his. Why are we letting him go? It's not like you to quit.”
“Maybe not,” Free answered softly, “but that’s my decision.”
“Of course, sah. Whatever you say, that’s what happens. I was just concerned that it was uncharacteristic. I thought you might be… distracted.”
“Distracted by what?”
“By DS Pinion. With regard, sah.”
Free took a choking breath, but managed to turn away without swearing. The temptation to throw his Senior from the room was incredibly strong and he had to struggle to resist it. Instead, he started to change, stripping off his tunic with precise, controlled motions. However, Gull ignored his leader’s tension and strolled to a couch beneath the illusory window to settle comfortably into it.
“That’s absurd,” Free finally protested, bunching his tunic in his fists without realising he was crumpling the garment instead of storing it. “She’s one of my officers and I treat all my subordinates professionally.”
“Ye, you do,” Gull agreed, “but I think that’s the problem. You’re trying to ignore Pinion and treat her as a casual attraction, but she's clearly much more.”
Free turned away without answering and belatedly threw his creased tunic into compression.
“I thought so,” Gull continued smugly, as if he thought Free had admitted something. 'You’re distracted-as. In my opinion, you’re well past the final-horizon of attraction to young Clearwing.’” He bared his teeth in a harsh grin, but his Leader was now methodically storing his boots and refused to look around.
“That’s ridiculous,” Free said to the wall. “More-on-more, it’s impossible. I’ve made other commitments.” He turned to face his Senior and his mind was adamant. “Leave this, Gull.’
His officer winced at the mental snap, but squared his shoulders and returned to his first concern. “All right, sah, but what of the other? Would you like to reconsider chasing that pirate?”
“Pirate?” asked Free, and dragged his mind back to Wing. “Oh, the pirate. I said no. Let him go.”
“Sah,” Gull began, but then hesitated, as if again unsure how to proceed. “He’s no longer one of us. He gave that away years past.”
The Leader grimaced and some of the sadness he’d been hiding from returned. “I mean it, Gull. Although he's a pirate now and I hate how he lives, he had reason for his acts. And he’s still my cousin. As far as I’m concerned, that’s for all-times.”
Gull’s hand slashed once in denial before reaching out to his leader in desperate appeal. “I beg you to reconsider. If you catch Nightwing, you can barter him for favor again. For all of us. Please, Lord, I beg you. It’s vital that you leave behind such childish loyalties. He brought you disHonor you never deserved and now brings you yet more danger-”
“Stop.”
Gull’s tirade seemed to stick in his throat and he blanched at the fury in his Leader’s voice. He tried again to answer, but faltered when Free raised a warning palm.
“Stop mid-thrust, because I won’t hear more. I helped Wing of my own volition and I will never regret it. Never, Gull. Do you frond that? I could be stuck guano deep as a no-resources Rim leader for the rest of my career and still have no regret. I don’t give a tip if it’s treason, but on this ship my cousin is not an outcast and not disHonored. If you wish to disagree, I can release you to serve another leader. One more in favor with the Arck.”
Free paused, but his fronds pummelled his Senior with a fierce demand to accept his terms. Gull stood still for some time, before bowing deep and slow. “Understood, sah. I’ve no wish to ship with any lord other than you and I regret my earlier words… it’s just…”
“Yes?” Free prompted although his hands curled into fists.
“It’s just… I never knew Nightwing, but I do know you. Know you very well, Free, and I care what happens to you. Your fate matters. To all of us, sah. It matters much.”
“Oh.” Freefall felt his familiar tension ease and the hair hidden against his neck stirred. He was moved by his Senior’s loyalty and admitted, at least to himself, that he was overly sensitive to any criticism of his cousin or their past. “I’m sorry, Gull. You plucked a feather with that. Wing and I were raised together, you know. He’s my truest family and closest friend. Please remember such.”
“Of course, sah.” Gull lifted his fist to his heart in salute and stepped quietly to the door. He hesitated there, as if tempted to say more, but Free spoke before he could.
“Get Clear to send out a damping field soon-as.”
Gull turned completely, with a frown. “Damping field, sah?”
“Ye. Then get the DS to check our hull for an embedded tracer.”
“A tracer, sah?” the older kres protested. “That seems extreme. Why suspect such?”
Free grimaced in response and absently rubbed a scarred cheek. “That passage point kept triggering behind us because exotic matter was being fed back to it. Yes, I know there could be other causes, but it’s confirmed. We were warned by a certain kres. One you believe lacks Honor. Wing said we’re lit up and I trust him. I want it damped and stopped before we make passage.”
Gull sighed and offered a grim salute. “A tracer signal does explain the passage activation. We’ll find it, sah and pluck it super quick.”
“Good. Keep me in-loop, Gull.” Free flicked a weary finger in dismissal and turned away before his most competent officer launched himself through the field.
The Leader listened for his departure and then tapped at his com to replace the false scene beyond his window. He seemed to look into space instead and the view suited his mood. The ship’s progress was painfully slow and his window showed a jagged sliver of stripped fullerene trailing past. He sighed and then groaned when his door whistled again.
“Come,” he rasped and the door field wavered.
A dark cane pushed through it, to tap its way into the room ahead of carefully placed feet. Grace shuffled into the gravity of Free’s quarters and he stepped forward to offer his arm. She leaned on him heavily while she hobbled to the couch and twisted awkwardly to settle on its edge. Free decompressed cushions behind her back and she clucked angrily at the prolonged assistance.
“Nuff, nuff,” she complained, and pointed at the rug in front of her. “Sit.”
“I’m well enough standing,” he said tersely, and her cane struck the floor by his foot.
“Sit, boy. I’m here to make apology and my old neck can’t cope with craning at you.”
“You wish to say sorry?” he asked in surprise, and she grunted assent.
“Ye and I’ve no wish to do such staring at your groin.”
“Indeed,” Free agreed hastily, and crouched before her without further argument.
“Sparrow’s palace contact has sent news,” she said gruffly without further preamble. “News that Sharpeye has hidden with great care, but still I should have sensed it. I’ve failed you, Free. Truly, I might have failed every sentient.” She paused awkwardly and a few thin strands of hair stirred against her neck. “Arkyss Glow is with child. The Arck has an heir.”
“You’re sure?” Free protested, and her brief shame vanished.
“Are you daft, boy? Do you think I offer such dire news all unsure? As I say, so it is. The Arck has an unborn son, Arkyn Hawkeye FarFlight. The chick was declared his heir as soon as we went com-dark.”
“Sharpeye no longer needs
me,” Free stated with bleak realisation. “The Safe Successioners no longer need me.”
Grace harrumphed in agreement. “Not enough to protect you, Free. Not when others of The Thousand plot your fall. I thought this news might bring you cheer.”
Free blinked in surprise. “Cheer, when I can offer my crew no safe escape?”
“Cheer indeed. Our barter power may be gone, but such leaves you free to follow your fronds. A true heart-match is now clear before you.”
Free was silent, absorbing the implications of Grace’s suggestion, but then his lips thinned and his shoulders slumped. “No, there’ll be no such. This is no time for me to breed. I'll not place an innocent wife, or children, in harm's way. Plus, I still hold hope that Goldown will use her influence for us, at least enough to free my crew, if I hold true to our trade.”
“Foolish, chick. No marriage will be offered now and I fear Goldown’s power will free none of us. I feel the might of the throne is flexing and the previous attack on us was no matter of chance.”
“That’s true enough,” Freefall informed her crisply, his composure restored by the conversation’s shift to shipboard matters. “We were lit bright as a supernova. Parts of our hull must have been honeycombed out, then filled with exotic matter and a pulser. A signal was screaming through passage space. That’s how we were found and it still offers trouble. We’ve only just damped the trace and we’re as slow as stalactite growth. An easy find.”
“Anyone with the tracer frequency will search here?” Grace asked, and the quaver in her voice was more pronounced than Free had ever heard it.
“Ye,” he answered more gently, “but thanks to Wing’s warning, we’ve a chance. Never despair.”
Free was instantly fixed by a glacial stare. “I am not despaired, boy, I am vexed. By stupidity, both the Arck’s and mine. I knew that spacing with you offered Sharpeye a tempting double target, but I’d thought he’d not be fool enough to aim at it.” She stopped for an angry cluck and then flipped a hand in dismissal of their present plight. “He will regret this. Get us home, Free. Now.”
“I’ll best try,” he answered grimly. Free rose to his feet, but, before he could help Grace up, a priority whistle shrieked from his console. He whirled toward the projected threat and his jaw set hard against fear. Stay here, his mind ordered even as he launched himself through the door.
The nest was lit by the glare of a dozen scans and a main visual more chilling than the tiny replica above Free’s bedroom console. He gave it a glance, but kept moving, firing his com to rocket across the massive sphere. He flew past his crew without braking and slammed into the arm of his chair. The impact took most of his momentum, so that he could simply flip over the seat’s padded edge to take his place. The hologram surrounding him now claimed his entire attention.
“Four ships,” Free observed breathlessly. “Formation three then one,” he added, but looked to Clear for confirmation of the visual data.
“Ye, sah,” she answered tersely. “Three to the front will englobe us in ten point two minutes. One trailing those will close three minutes after. No, that’s changing. The last is the most fast. It’s gaining and will have us in weapons’ globe in ten point eight minutes. It also has more power than us, sah.”
Free studied her constantly refreshing data for several silent seconds before settling back in his chair. “The last is the most-threat,” he murmured to Gull, now hovering at his shoulder. “But the near three are travelling too close grouped, so we take what ignorance offers and destroy them first. TS,” he continued more loudly, and the Tactical Senior’s face and fronds swivelled toward him. “Send power to detonate the mine we left behind on system entry. Will it damage all three ships?”
The TS ran a rapid simulation and nodded a finger. “Ye, sah. They’re all at engine-max and close grouped. Shields are low-power and little defense. They’ll be intensive-hurt or worse.”
“Good,” Free commented with a reassuring smile. “Then we’re left with one to one. Bend our course past that mine and on to passage-point. Let’s play at chase.” He relaxed into his chair and around him his crew moved smoothly to their work. The only concern he could sense came from the main data console. He raised an eyebrow at Clear and her eyes moved from side to side in negation. Their hull had already been damaged too badly to hold under the rigors of evasive flight and they were hopelessly outclassed by their fourth attacker.
I’m sorry, Free thought and, to his amazement, Clear smiled. It was a simple smile, resigned, but content, and he actually grinned back. He realized that they were all facing death, but this time he refused to flinch.
31
Mutiny
A blow smashed into Wing’s cheek and he felt the bone crack as his head was thrown back. He sagged in his seat, too stunned to understand Greon’s words. He groaned and the leader’s roaring came into focus.
“…said they’d die. I want them dead. Your course should have been into that black hole. Into, not around! You lied to me. You failed me. You betrayed me-”
Greon’s ranting sprayed Wing with spittle and he knew that another blow was imminent. “No,” he croaked, and winced at the fire in his cheek. “Did my best. That leader was smart. Must have checked my course and laid in another. I certain-sure sent them in. At least tried to. He was smarter than me. Sorry, sah.”
“It was a safe course out,” Greon snarled with undiminished fury. “You told them such. You said-”
“Course I did, sah. Your plan would have failed if I’d told them the truth. Their leader must have checked though… smarter than I thought.”
Greon paused and regarded his Senior thoughtfully. “Yes, he was much too smart for you, Nightwing.” Greon’s lips smacked together as if he was savouring the words. “Too smart for Nightwing,” he repeated loudly and nodded gravely, but his apparent sympathy couldn’t hide the delight in his silver eyes. They glinted when he decompressed a regen pad and spun it across the nest.
“You’re dismissed, Nightwing. I’ll make the next passage. Go and seek rest.”
‘Thank you, Sah.’ Wing pushed himself stiffly from his chair and floated toward the link.
“You’re all relieved,” Greon announced and waved his arms expansively. The nest was briefly silent and then abruptly filled with jostling bodies, each pushing to escape. Despite their hurry, they all remembered to thank the leader, and he smiled smugly. “You’ve earned it. I’m well pleased. I’ll stand early with the shift crew.”
Won’t they be thrilled, Wing thought bitterly as he waited to enter the crowded link.
“Hazleean, not you,” Greon called to his DS just as she reached the safety of the corridor. “You need further instruction.”
Hazleean stopped and Wing sensed her panic, before she slowly turned and drifted back to her console. He hesitated too, watching the inept Data Senior while she slunk into place amongst her still-active display. That solicitous glance was enough to freeze him in place. He clamped one hand around an emergency gravity strip while his body was buffeted by the hasty exit blasts of the main crew. He hung alone at the edge of the nest, appalled by the vision above him.
Four ships had entered the system from its far passage point. Wing’s gut tightened, although the Bandit was clearly not their target. They were not kres at all. They were mercenaries and he could guess who they were hunting. He kept his face calm and his fronds flat against his chest, but his mind raced. The attackers were growing larger in the display and he knew that Greon would notice them the moment his attention shifted from the cowering Hazleean. Wing was out of time and out of options. He tapped his com once.
“Jileea, we’re go. Feed Greon’s extra power to my com and lock down the nest. Keep everyone out from now.” Wing made no effort to repeat the order. Jileea was either ready or not. If not, they were both dead, but he dismissed that thought. Despair had no place in his plan. His fronds bushed and his pupils dilated when his com shifted to combat mode and adrenaline flooded his system.
Wing had a brief glimpse of his Leader’s astonished expression before his shoulder drove into the mermaridian’s throat. Greon’s bellow of rage became a croak and he flew backwards, one arm flung wide and the other swinging viciously for Wing’s head.
Wing ducked forward and his head tucked under Greon’s wild punch. The kres kept diving, curling into a forward roll, so that his leg rose behind him, the heel hammering into his enemy’s face.
Greon’s cry was little more than a rasp, but he kept flailing at his attacker while they spun across the nest. They collided with the navigation console and were thrown apart, but one of Wing’s hands held its death grip on Greon’s neck. The Senior’s fingers ground deep into solid muscle, locking tight to cut off oxygen.
Greon’s eyes went wide and locked on Wing, who stared back unblinking. He hung on each gasp from his victim, willing them to stop and finally felt the pulse that hammered under his rigid fingers start to slow.
Greon sprayed spittle in Wing’s face and the kres had to blink. He focused on his Leader again in time to see his eyes dim while something rattled under Wing’s hands. The pirate stopped struggling and his fists stopped squeezing Wing’s to float away to either side. Everything went very still and very quiet.
Wing sagged too, but he didn’t let go. Not yet, although such caution was needless. He knew with primal certainty that he’d done it. He’d challenged the monster and won.
That second of triumph was obliterated by an explosion. Wing was hit in the back by a blast of heat and light. And pain. Horrible, unexpected pain. He was thrown away from the flaccid Greon and sent writhing across the nest, half-blind with agony and the glare of the com blast that had hit him.
