Chapter 30
Jayce stood on a small lift in the center of the upper chamber of the skiff. He was in full Light Armor with his helmet donned and sealed. He could feel the Veil slipping away as the Iron Soul transitioned out of FTL.
The crew had had a nervous energy to them that bordered on panic since Jayce had boarded the skiff. Petty officers had shorter tempers and the Marines aboard were oddly quiet.
“I’m picking up more ship-stone beacons,” Uusanar said through a shipboard channel that came through Jayce’s helmet. “Sending you the best readings I have.”
A holo screen appeared on the inside of his helmet over one eye. A swell of red diamonds moved slowly to envelop a swath of blue squares near a star fortress in distant orbit around an ocean world. White dots dashed away from the battle.
A large yellow circle pulsed behind the red diamonds.
“Which ones are we?” Jayce asked.
“Red diamonds, enemy. Blue squares, friendly. White dots, civilians,” Eabani said from his turret. “You can’t figure that out?”
“Yes,” Jayce nodded quickly. “Just . . . making sure. The yellow’s the FTL jammer?”
“This guy’s the best thing we’ve got right now?” a crewman said over the skiff’s channel. “He doesn’t know his ass from a hole in the ground and he’s our new hope to—what? Why are you tapping your helmet? Something wrong with your comms . . . No, I’m not on that chan—Wait. Ah, fu—”
“Jayce.” Dastin’s portrait appeared in Jayce’s helmet. He was in the other dorsal turret, on the opposite side of the outer hull from Eabani. “You don’t understand what you’re seeing, do you? Do you know when the last time the galaxy saw a void battle this size?”
“No. Pretend I spent my whole life on a backwater fishing planet that didn’t even get the good holo series.”
“Not since the revolt. The Thirty-Seventh Fleet is fighting more enemy capital ships than other star nations even have,” Dastin said. “I’ll give you three guesses who’s attacking the system.”
“The Tyrant’s loyalists? But Maru said they were weak. Only had a few systems under their control.”
“It ain’t just Maru that’s often wrong. Seems our intelligence services are going to have some explaining to do,” Dastin said. “What? Yeah, he’s active in this sector. Seconded to the Thirty-Seventh last I heard . . . Then we better not screw this up. A mother can only take so much.”
“Prepare for FTL transition,” Uusanar announced. “I shall meet you all again on Cadorra, or the afterlife. I prefer the former. Iron Soul, out.”
“This is already going great,” Jayce muttered to himself. “I can tell.”
The skiff lurched forward as the Iron Soul came out of FTL. The skiff spat out of the main landing bay.
Jayce felt like a weight came off his shoulders as the Veil’s presence faded away. Something scratched at the edge of his consciousness, like a radio set between two channels or the screech of a rusty engine.
The holo changed to a map of the system. The skiff was a pulsing blue dot closing rapidly on the scrambler vessel.
“Stealth systems engaged,” Dastin said. “Hold all fire. We’re riding the scrambler’s wake and that should mask us as we close on the target.”
On the map, the Iron Soul banked hard and flew away from the conflict. Just another civilian vehicle that stumbled into a fight she wouldn’t want any part of.
“Passive sensors active,” Dastin said. “We’re getting a look at . . . By the Veil!”
Transponders of dead and dying vessels appeared on the map. Jayce didn’t recognize the names, but that the Governance had left a trail of destruction behind the main formation of the 37th Fleet.
“See those belfry carriers?” Dastin pinged the map for Jayce. “Same class the Tyrant built. Definitely a Tyrant fleet on the assault. They’re not supposed to have this many ships.”
“What does this mean?” Jayce asked. “Why now?”
“I’m not an officer, I don’t worry about the ‘why’ so much as the ‘have everyone do the right thing at the right time the right way so we accomplish the mission and maybe not die.’ We get you to the scrambler ship, you disable it, then we get to the Governance fleet before it can FTL out and we’re left smiling at the biggest Tyrant fleet I’ve ever seen. You get me?”
“I get you, Gunny,” Jayce said.
“See? If I was an officer I’d still be blathering through the paragraphs of the operations order,” Dastin said.
“You should put in a packet for officer candidate’s school,” Eabani said.
“No, I like working for a living,” Dastin said. “We’re inside their combat void patrol bubble. Eyes open for interceptors.”
“What happens if they see us?” Jayce asked as the skiff closed on the scrambler ship. The holo in his helmet switched to a prow camera and he saw the aft of the interdiction ship. Three large engines burned deep blue, surrounded by smaller thrusters. He made out an elliptical shape to the aft against the light.
Ahead of the scrambler ship, fireballs and plasma bolts swept back and forth as the Tyrant’s fleet kept up its pursuit of the Governance ships.
“It’s all right,” Jayce told himself. “I was on the hull during FTL. I can do this too.”
“Hot mike,” Dastin said.
“What? Does speaker have a safety switch like your gun?” Jayce asked.
“Where did we find this guy?” a crewman asked. “Oh right, a Deep fringe fish bucket. Good thing I’ve got the extra life insurance for the wife and kids.”
“Break break break,” Dastin said. “Keep chatter to a minimum. You’re up, kid, make sure your maglocks are engaged or you’re gonna have a real bad time out there.”
Jayce pressed his heels down and his boots clamped against the lift plate he stood on.
“Set,” Jayce said.
“Hydraulics engaged. We’ll reduce relative velocity to the target soon as we clear the aft. We like you, kid, shame to see you smeared against the hulls,” Dastin said.
The plate lifted up on guide rails and an iris opened overhead. The void above had a sheen of yellow particles from the scrambler ship’s engines. Jayce ducked as the plate brought him out onto the upper hull just as the skiff passed under the much larger ship.
Dastin was in the turret next to him. He gave Jayce a thumbs-up through the ballistic glass, then pointed up.
The scrambler’s hull had a lattice of Veil flecks and dust built into it. Larger stones formed bright nodes every few dozen yards. Jayce stood and raised his hilt up, but even without igniting the blade, he could tell he couldn’t reach it.
“Closer!” Jayce yelled. “Get me closer!”
The skiff rose slowly and Jayce ignited his blade. He thrust it up and the tip scraped through the Veil lattice.
The skiff rolled sharply and Jayce’s ankles nearly broke from the sudden strain. Neon-yellow plasma bolts snapped overhead and the port side of the skiff careened off the scrambler’s hull. The skiff rolled the other way and a bay-winged fighter roared passed them.
“We’re spotted!” Dastin called out. “Get level for another pass!”
Turrets on the skiff opened fire and a fireball erupted on the far edge of the scrambler’s ventral hull.
“Why don’t we just shoot the—Hey!” Jayce had to fall to his knees as the skiff almost smashed him against the hull as it readjusted course.
“The whole lattice projects the scramble field. It’s all or nothing!” Dastin swung his turret around and the double-barreled plasma guns almost clipped Jayce.
“Not the time for bright ideas.” Jayce reached back and stabbed his Fulcrum into the hull. The Veil energy ran through the lattice, causing a chain reaction throughout the entire ship. A section of the enemy ship exploded behind them, and bits of debris and flame grasped at him. A burning, jagged line marked his passing along the hull.
Jayce’s Light Armor glowed to life. He felt the pokes and jabs from razor-sharp hull fragments, but there wasn’t any pain, no warnings that his suit had lost integrity.
He thought of Maru and the Pinnacle, and the power from the stone on his harness coursed through his arm and into his weapon.
The entire lattice around the scrambler ship overcharged and blew out in a shower of silver dust.
“Ah!” Jayce recoiled as he felt the Veil flutter behind his eyes. He crouched down, his senses spinning from the blowback.
“Hot damn, it worked!” Dastin called out. “Hang on, kid, I’ll get you back inside in just a—Incoming!”
A neon bolt narrowly missed Jayce atop the hull. Another flurry of shots struck the starboard side and pierced through the upper cargo bay. The disc he was maglocked to came unmoored and Jayce floated off the skiff.
“Wait for me!” Jayce unlocked his boots and flipped over. His fingertips scraped against the skiff’s hull as it accelerated away from him. Jayce stabbed his blade into the skiff and twisted it to anchor himself in place. The blade cut through the hull and stopped inches from Dastin’s face in his turret.
Jayce swung his feet down and locked them against the hull as the skiff’s engines flared with full power behind him. The portal he’d come out of was mangled metal.
“Dastin, how do I get back inside?” he asked.
“Ah . . . you don’t. Not for a while,” the Marine said.
“I’m just supposed to stay”—the skiff jerked from side to side as it dodged fire from fighters—“stay out here?”
“It’s not much better inside!” Dastin let off a long burst from his turret and a pair of pursuers erupted into fireballs.
Jayce looked back at the scrambler ship. Its elliptical hull crackled with uncontrolled energy. He felt something there and the stone in his harness grew warmer against his chest. Jayce reached out through the Veil and grasped his hand toward the ship, then made a fist and tugged.
The scrambler ship imploded as the lattice contracted.
The battle around them faltered for several seconds as both fleets realized that the balance of power in the engagement had suddenly shifted.
“Flagship’s still functional,” Dastin said. “Get us aboard the Star Strider before they seal up the aft docking bay.”
The skiff dove toward a Governance warship trailing the rest of the fleet. Her engines were dim, and smoke bled out from battle damage across the hull.
“You think she’s gonna make it out of here?” the pilot asked.
“You think we can get to any other ship before they jump to FTL? More flying. Less talking!”
“Aye, Gunny!” The pilot pushed the skiff faster. “Squawking identify friend or foe, but we’re not getting a ping back.”
“Then get on standard channels and tell them we’re coming. And tell them not to shoot us either!” Dastin shouted.
Jayce crouched low against the hull as a different make of fighter flew parallel to them. Jayce waved at the pilot, whose expression was unreadable behind his or her visor.
The Nova’s Glow’s main launch bay ran the entire length of the ship, with hangars built into the ceiling and the side bays. Several ships were already parked on the runways, some of them burnt-out wrecks, others with the same dark metal coloring of the Tyrant’s fighters.
“Got a blocked runway,” the pilot said. “Coming in hot. Hold on!”
The skiff clipped the bottom of the launch bay and her prow dug into the flattop, sending out a shower of sparks. It veered toward a wrecked lander and Jayce released his maglocks. He went flying and a cocoon of Veil energy enveloped him. He skipped across the deck like a stone over a lake, then came to a spinning halt next to a makeshift barricade of ship tenders and cargo containers, manned by soldiers in dark void armor.
Jayce looked up at a pair of Tyrant soldiers who seemed more shocked to see him than he was to see them. He stabbed one through the chest with his Fulcrum, then snapped it across his body to cleave the leg off the other soldier.
More Tyrant soldiers stopped firing around the barricade and turned their attention to him. A jolt of aggression from the hilt spurred Jayce into the attack. What he lacked in grace and fluidity he made up for in brute strength. He shoulder-charged the nearest soldier and a blast of plasma off his Light Armor sent the boarder into a trio of his fellows.
Jayce cut down two more with a spinning attack and waded into a mass of black-armored warriors. He hacked and punched at them, feeling jolts of pain from coil gun hits that his Light Armor energy shielding mitigated to almost nothing.
A soldier grabbed him by the arm with his hilt and stopped a strike that would’ve killed another soldier with bright yellow stripes down his shoulder and arm. Jayce dropped the hilt and caught it with his other hand in a reverse grip and stabbed at what he guessed was an officer.
The blade slid off the officer’s harness shield, leaving Jayce exposed. Another soldier tackled Jayce from behind and more and more of the boarders dog-piled on top of him.
The officer snapped a fist to one side and a punch dagger snapped from a forearm housing. He stabbed at Jayce’s stone as the rest of his men held Jayce in place. The first blow was knocked back. The second scraped down the edge of his ribs. The officer stuck the tip over his stone and forced it through the shielding a fraction of an inch at a time.
Jayce struggled, but the Light Armor had lost too much strength in the fighting to augment the cybernetic muscles in his suit.
He made out dead eyes behind the officer’s visor, his face swimming in some sort of a liquid within the helmet.
The officer snapped his head to one side as a red plasma bolt struck him between the eyes. Jayce fell to the deck as a storm of plasma bolts shredded the boarders, killing them all within seconds.
A bolt clipped Jayce’s shin and he cried out in pain.
“Cease fire! Cease fire!”
Jayce deactivated his hilt and held up a hand. A Governance Marine stood over him, a rank starburst on his chest over a dead stone in his harness. His armor was pitted and warped from fire and plasma strikes.
Jayce stared down the barrel of the Marine’s gun as both fought to catch their breath.
“Hi,” Jayce said. “I’m on your side. See all this mess? Me. You mind not shooting me now?”
The Marine took his helmet off. His face was covered in sweat and a swath of nasty bruises marred his skin from the orbit of one eye to his ear. Jayce thought he looked like something off the old recruitment posters still hung around shanty floats back home. He holstered his coil carbine and shouted orders to other Marines as they swept through the bay.
“Where’d you get that?” the Marine demanded, pointing at Jayce’s deactivated hilt.
“Maru said it chose me.” Jayce waggled it. “Does everyone know it but me?” A pulse of thought and his helmet retracted from his face.
“Kid? Kid!” Dastin ran through the cordon of Marines, Eabani close behind him. “You hurt?”
Jayce looked down at the burnt cut across his shin.
“Any sailing you can walk away from . . .” He held a hand up to Dastin and the Marine hauled him up. Jayce thought he could put weight on the injured leg, but his knee buckled from the pain, and he stumbled into the Marine officer.
“Dastin?” The officer’s face went pale. “What are you doing here?”
Dastin pointed at Jayce. He put Jayce’s arm over his shoulder and kept him up.
“Captain Tarasin . . . what’re the odds?” Dastin’s face fell and his eyes filled with grief. “Sir, we need to get this one back to Cadorra ASAP. There’s been some developments.”
“You don’t say.” Tarasin’s mouth twitched. “The sudden assault by a Tyrant fleet on a way-stone system was a change of pace this morning. And we’re already in FTL.” He tilted his head toward the forward bay doors as they closed. The swirl and streaks of the Veil boundary were broken up by the dark outlines of nearby ships.
The doors shut with a metal clang and cheers rose from the Marines.
“Where’s Maru?” Tarasin asked.
Dastin shook his head.
Tarasin’s face grew angrier.
“And where is my sister?” He grabbed Dastin by the collar and shook the Marine.
“Why does he think we know—” Jayce frowned and his eyes darted from side to side in through. “Who’s his sister?” he asked Eabani.
Eabani raised a hand slowly, then clamped it over Jayce’s mouth.
“They took her,” Dastin said softly. “I wasn’t there when it happened. I couldn’t be there.” He pushed a finger against his gunnery sergeant rank pin and it popped out. He offered it to Tarasin.
Tarasin slapped the hand away.
“Who took her?”
Jayce wrenched his face away from Eabani’s scaly hand. “You mean Sarai? Is that the sister you’re talking about, because she never mentioned you to me but—”
“Where did you find this idiot?” Tarasin asked Dastin.
“He washed up on a dock out in the Deep,” the Marine mumbled. “Maru kept him because he’s Attuned and things got even more complicated from there.”
“Sarai,” Tarasin said firmly. “My sister. Where is she?”
“One of the Tyrant’s agents kidnapped her”—Jayce touched the soul stone he got from the Pinnacle—“after she claimed the other one of these. Maru says that these stones can bring about another Collapse like the one that destroyed the Ancients and—”
Tarasin balled his fists and looked like he was about to strike Jayce. There were muffled words from the captain’s earpiece and his face softened slightly.
“Bastards are still in the lower decks.” Tarasin put his helmet back on. “I’m going to kill them all, then you both will tell me every last thing that happened. Get him to sickbay.”
The captain spun around and jogged off; his Marines followed him away.
“I’ve got a feeling he’s still gonna kick my ass later,” Jayce asked. “He strikes me as the overprotective brother type.”
Jayce looked down at his hilt, which once belonged to Tarasin and Sarai’s father. He felt power returning to the Pinnacle stone every time he breathed.
“I’m a counterfeit of a much better man, aren’t I?”
“You’ve done good, kid.” Dastin slapped his shoulder. “We’re alive. So’s everyone else on the skiff, by some miracle. We’re heading to friendly stars. Believe it or not, kid, this is winning. Now let’s get you taken care of.”