by Rachel Aukes
He took in one more deep breath before retracting the tether line. The next time he left the ship, he was going to bring a much bigger gun.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Yale and Parks docked at Jade-8 and stepped into the docking bay to find a man and a woman waiting for them. The woman was tall and slender with cropped dark hair. She wore slim-fitting cargo pants, boots, and a jacket with the Black Rifle Security patch on it. The man seemed her opposite in every way. He was stocky with a shaved head and wore torn jeans and a holey black T-shirt that hugged his muscled biceps.
The woman spoke first. “Jeez. You’re both kids. The GP’s so desperate for suckers that they’ve got to get kids to sign up now?”
Yale grinned. “You’re just jealous because you freelance types can’t get in.”
She smiled and held out her hand. “I’m Captain Watts of the Mockingbird.”
“Captain. I’m Yale Headey and this is Darby Parks.”
“Call me Watts.” She shook his hand.
“So which of you is the captain and which is the crew?” the man with a gruff-sounding voice asked.
“We’re partners,” Parks said before adding, “He flies. I shoot and keep the ship in working order.”
The man took a step closer to her. “Holy shit, aren’t you a cute little thing.” He held out his hands and pinched his fingers together. “I just want to squeeze those cheeks.”
Parks blushed and brought her hands to her cheeks.
He cocked his head. “Oh, darling. I wasn’t talking about those cheeks.”
“Behave, Shep,” Watts scolded.
“What’s the fun in that?” He smirked. “All right. I’m Shep. Now we all know each other. Let’s get some drinks.”
Yale frowned. “Where are your crews?”
Shep chortled. “Jade-8 is our place of residence, kid. The moment we docked, they scattered to the four winds. Some to their families. Some to their lovers. Some to whatever shithole they call home.”
“When crews reach port, they like to get some fresh air. Too much time together on a cramped ship makes people cranky. You’ll learn that once you get some more time in the black,” Watts said.
Shep and Watts led Yale and Parks through a massive hallway, easily twice as wide as the docks on Free Station. They had to take a couple of detours due to breached areas blown out by the Swarm in the recent attack. Watts seemed to know her way around Jade-8 as well as Shep, and Yale wondered if she also had an apartment there.
When the group of four stepped into Jade City, both Yale’s and Parks’s expressions became ones of wonder. The enclosed city went on for a mile, at least, and Yale noticed on the map that there were several levels to it. A sky scene was painted on the ceiling. It wasn’t the most realistic—nothing like a hologram—but it still lent to the enormity of the space city.
“I’ve never seen anything so big,” Parks said, the wonder in her eyes.
“That’s because you haven’t had me yet,” Shep said with a chuckle.
Watts rolled her eyes. “You’re an idiot, Shep.” She walked on ahead.
They stopped at a small open-air bar with no door. Black fabric was draped over poles, forming a ceiling and darkening the small area that stank of old beer and greasy food. A dozen or so patrons were spread out along the bar. A few tall tables lined the other wall.
Watts grabbed a seat at a vacant table, and the rest sat down as well. Shep motioned to the bartender and then held up four fingers. Within minutes, a waiter carried a tray of four shot glasses over and set them down on the table.
The waiter looked at Shep. “Those are on the house, as thanks for what you did out there today.”
“Thanks, mate,” Shep said.
Shep raised his glass. “To the crew of the Ender’s Game. A shitty crew of pirates, but a damn good bunch of guys who I would’ve flown with any day of the week.”
The other three raised their glasses, and the group downed their drinks.
Yale coughed. Parks covered her mouth with the back of her hand as her eyes watered.
“What is that stuff? Battery acid?” Yale asked once he could speak.
“Close to it,” Watts said, and she motioned to the waiter for another round.
A man patted Shep’s shoulder as he walked by. “Nice work out there today, Shep. You’re one of the good ones.”
Watts smirked. “Shep, you better watch out. You’re at risk of becoming a hero.”
He sniggered. “Being a hero ain’t worth a thing to nobody.”
The waiter brought over another four shots. He set a glass of beer in front of Shep and nodded toward a pair of women at the bar who were giving Shep welcoming looks. “From the ladies, as thanks for saving their lives today.”
Shep pulled the beer closer and shrugged. “Maybe being a hero isn’t so bad after all.”
“You think we’re done seeing the Swarm?” Yale asked.
Shep chuckled drily and took a long drink.
Watts gave Yale a hooded look. “Don’t kid yourself. That was just one battle, and we got lucky. If those Swarm had initially focused on us rather than on the stations, today would’ve been a slaughter. Unless that Strike fleet manages to obliterate their home world and every Swarm probe they come across, I’d say that today was the first of our fights with them.”
“You sound like you’ve been through a few fights,” Parks said.
“That’s a part of the job description,” Watts said.
“My parents are in the Strike fleet,” Yale said, his heart swelling with pride.
“Well, then let’s hope they fared better than we did today.” Watts lifted the shot glass.
Yale winced. “I don’t know if I should do another one. I get heartburn.”
“That last one was for the friends we lost today. This one’s for us, kid,” Shep said.
Watts raised her glass. “To the Hell Group, some of the finest lowlifes and rabble-rousers I’ve had the pleasure to work with.”
“Cheers,” Yale said and downed the drink, which burned tread marks down his throat. He managed not to cough.
Yale’s Atlas chip chimed with a high-priority message, and he turned away from the table to read the message.
As he read the message, the whiskey no longer burned in his gut. A dark, icy hand reached into his chest and grabbed his heart. He nearly slid off the chair.
Parks grabbed his shoulder. “Are you okay?”
He slowly straightened and turned back to the table.
Shep eyed him. “What is it, kid?”
Yale’s bottom lip trembled. “My parents are dead.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
Vantage-Zulu-Seven-Seven-Four had lost its engine to a human’s lucky photon blast. The human ships outnumbered probes nearly six to one. With those numbers, the humans didn’t need to aim. Enough shooting, they were bound to make a lucky shot or two.
The other probes in its pod were dead. One had been killed at a small Jade station, and the remaining four had been either outright killed or disabled and self-destructed at the Jade-8 complex. The probe was disappointed in its pod’s performance. They should’ve been better at fending off the human attackers while breaching the complex. Instead, they’d fallen, one by one, until only Vantage-Zulu-Seven-Seven-Four remained.
The probe’s drones enveloped it, pushing it out of the battle and behind a warehouse section to begin repairs. Its engine wasn’t destroyed and could be made operational in a matter of hours. The attackers would give chase to fleeing probes, and the Jade-8 occupants would be focused on repairing their station, giving the probe the time it required.
The challenge was that it hadn’t considered leaving one of its drones in a maintenance configuration, which meant repairs would go slower than anticipated. As soon as the probe tethered itself behind a storage unit, it sent the drones to work, using their laser cutters and grabbers to work on its engine. As the probe directed the drones, a new idea struck. Even without its engine, it could take down J
ade-8. The frontal assault was the obvious plan, but it never considered the option of attacking a colony from within. The drones were small enough they could travel through hallways. While the probe didn’t have explosives, its drones’ photon blasters could wreak damage, especially if the probe instructed them to attack key infrastructure points, such as the complex’s air supply or heat generators.
As soon as the idea formed, the probe redirected its drones to the nearest hull breach on Jade-8, holding back two drones to repair its engine. All the hull breaches were on the other side of the orbital station, and the probe directed the drones through their onboard navigational systems. They flew around the station, mere feet from its surface so as not to be detected. The station was pockmarked with hull breaches, and it didn’t take the drones long to locate a breach large enough for them to enter.
Using their pincers, they climbed in, one after the other, like ants entering an anthill. Once inside, they entered the duct system and zoomed through the open space to seek out delicate systems.
The proximity alarm sounded, and the probe turned its attention back to its own environment. Fear grew when it detected eight ships coming directly toward it, all with their photon guns aimed. The probe couldn’t fly, let alone maneuver. Its photon cannon was fixed on its nose, which made it useless in its current predicament.
It took nearly a full second to determine its next steps. The ships slowed as they approached. The probe sent a final command to its drones:
Seek systems or populated areas, and self-destruct.
Protocols stated that all Vantage must self-destruct to prevent capture. Vantage technology could not fall into human hands. Vantage-Zulu-Seven-Seven-Four did not self-destruct. Instead, it chose to wait.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Yale stood on the sidewalk in Jade City, oblivious to people coming and going around him. His parents couldn’t be dead. They’d been through worse times and always made it back home. His mom was the best pilot Yale had ever known, and his dad could hit the target with any weapon he ever handled. The Swarm hadn’t killed them, because they couldn’t have…right?
His heart felt like someone had drained the blood and filled it with concrete. His stomach felt like it was about to reject the two drinks he’d had with his new friends. His brain told him to hold on to hope, that the message could’ve been sent in error, but his gut told him that hope was a narcotic for the weak and stupid, addictive only in its way of taking away the brunt of reality.
Yale faltered as the floor suddenly rumbled beneath his feet. Then he felt the sensation again. Feeling like he was going insane, he dazedly looked up to see other people stumbling. It wasn’t just him, which meant…
Alarms blared from every direction.
He sucked in a deep breath, trying to bury his grief so he could function.
“Yale!” Parks jogged over to him, followed by Watts and Shep. All three bore tense expressions.
He swallowed before making the statement, “The Swarm’s attacking again, aren’t they.”
Shep gave a single nod. “That’s my guess. Come on, we’d better get back to our ships.”
“It’s understandable if you want to sit this one out, kid,” Shep said.
Yale frowned. “Hell no. I want payback for what they did to my parents.”
“Suit yourself,” Shep said, though Yale saw respect in the gruff man’s features.
The four hurried through Jade City’s streets, and Yale found himself struggling to keep up. His mind felt cloudy and his body felt numb, but Parks couldn’t pilot the Hellcat—he needed to focus if he would be of any help to the Hell Group. They ran a couple of blocks before everything went black.
“Hold, Hell Group,” Watts announced, and all four stopped.
“This can’t be good,” Shep said.
Yale held his hand up but couldn’t see it. Screams erupted and the sounds of people crashing into things echoed through the city. He felt someone nudge up against him.
“You okay?” Parks asked quietly, and he realized she pressed against him, likely for her own comfort as much as for his.
“Yeah. You?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she echoed.
Pale orange lights flickered to life, along with navigational signs above each walkway, and Parks took a step away.
“Finally, someone got the generators up and running,” Shep said.
The emergency lighting gave enough visibility for people to make their way without stampeding one another to death…at least that was what Yale hoped. By the expressions of terror on the shadowed faces of Jaders running by, he suspected that people were in as much danger from fellow Jaders as they were from the Swarm.
A voice came through speakers in the walls, echoing throughout the city:
“Attention: Jade-8 has been invaded by the Swarm. Return to your residences immediately. This is the real deal, folks.”
If people weren’t panicking already, they were now. Screams grew louder as Jaders shoved anyone slower out of the way. People fell, only to be stepped on or tripped over by others.
“This is not good,” Shep said.
“If the Swarm are inside, then it does us no good to get to our ships. Not if the battle’s here,” Watts said.
Shep held out his hands. “Yeah, but what good can we do without our ships? The Swarm will eat us alive.” He glanced at Parks and Yale. “That’s metaphorical. I hope.”
“The probes are too big to fit through the hallways, so it has to be Stingers, and they’re no bigger than us. We can fight them,” Parks said.
“They’re also heavily armored and can fly,” Shep countered; then he looked up. “Speak of the devil…”
The other three followed his gaze. High above Jade City, the golden glow of emergency lighting reflected off a metallic gray orb zooming in a circular path. Its single red laser eye was scanning the city.
“What’s it looking for?” Parks asked.
“Looks like it’s scouting the city,” Shep said.
“But for what?” Parks said.
Shep shook his head. “There’s nothing in Jade City that would be valuable to the Swarm.”
“People,” Watts said so softly that Yale had almost missed it. She turned to the other three in their group. “So far, the Swarm’s goal has been to cause the most casualties they can. We have to take it out before it starts shooting.”
“Give me a photon cannon, and I’ll blow it to bits,” Parks said.
“Unfortunately, I left mine back on my ship,” Shep said.
Yale touched the blaster still in its holster. At this distance, he’d never hit the Stinger. “We have our pistols. We need to draw it closer to us,” Yale said.
“A pistol ain’t going to take one of those things down, kid,” Watts said.
Yale turned to them. “It will if we turn it into a sticky bomb.”
“A what?” Parks asked.
“My dad—” Yale paused as he remembered he’d never see his dad again “—my dad used one once to cripple a hovercraft. We just need something that’ll stick a blaster to a Stinger. Then we light it up. The blaster will explode from a direct hit or if it gets hot enough.”
“Magnets,” Watts said. “I read a brief that the Swarm’s hulls are magnetic. I’d assume it’s the same for both probes and their Stingers.”
“We’d better move fast,” Parks said. “That Stinger’s tightening its pattern.”
Watts turned her head, narrowing her gaze on something to their left. “I’ll get the magnet. You get its attention.” She took off running.
Parks, Shep, and Yale pulled out their blasters. Shep waved his pistol in front of the people in their vicinity. “Go! Scram! Get out of here!” The space around them opened up some, but there were still far too many people in Jade City.
Parks raised her blaster, took aim, and fired. The Stinger slowed to a stop in midair, and its laser eye sought her out.
Watts returned with a hoverboard that was missing its cover. She gri
tted her teeth. “I can’t get it apart.”
“Here.” Shep took the board, reached in, and tore out the magnet with a grunt. He held it out in his palm.
Yale grabbed the round magnet, which was the size of a hockey puck. “It was my idea, so use my blaster.” He brought his blaster toward it, and the magnet sucked it to its surface with a clang.
“Watch out. It’s coming our way,” Parks announced, and she began firing one shot every second. Shep and Watts joined in. Yale would’ve if he’d brought a second blaster.
The Stinger laid down a string of photon blasts, forcing the group to dive to either side of the gunfire.
Yale rolled to his feet. “It needs to come closer. I can’t hit it from here.”
Shep grabbed the magnet with the attached blaster and slapped his weapon on Yale’s open palm. “I can. Cover me.”
Shep ran toward the Stinger, which was turning around for another strafing run. He came to stand directly in its path. The Stinger zipped toward him. Yale, Parks, and Watts fired nonstop at the Stinger, but any connecting shots reflected harmlessly off its hull. It began firing, the bright yellow photon blasts making a line toward Shep. He stood there, as though he was impervious to blaster fire, raised the magnet as though it were a ball, and then threw it. He dove to the side the split second before getting shot. The magnet flew toward the Stinger in a smooth arc, and Yale was impressed by Shep’s range. As the magnet approached the Stinger, the orb pulled away, but the magnet was close enough that it was pulled along, and it smacked onto the hull.
“Hit it!” Watts yelled.
Yale fired but missed, his shots going wide. Watts missed by inches, at most. Shep had pulled out a second blaster and was firing nonstop while cursing the Stinger. Parks slowed her shots, taking careful aim. She hit it once, then twice. Watts connected a third shot, and it was enough to overheat the blaster stuck to the Stinger. The power cell exploded in a ball of white lightning that was followed by a thunder that hurt Yale’s ears and rattled his teeth.
