Entara gave her the side-eye. “Don’t get cocky. This system could quit working at any second. I don’t know about you, but in my experience most prototypes don’t work as planned.”

  Dessa shook her head. “I don’t think so. I think you’re better than you realize.” Though she recalled a string of failures back on Axinal, most of them with Nolan in charge. Entara was right, in a general sense, a prototype wasn’t designed to be a working machine. Dessa just hoped it could make seven more operations before it failed.

  “Coming up on the next one!” Dev yelled. Fúl looked up and did something to the contraption attached to the arm of one of Entara’s people. He removed it, then extracted the vial from it, handing it to the alien, who ran it over to Dev.

  Dessa put her head down and focused on keeping the machine working. She couldn’t pay attention to other people’s jobs at the moment. She just needed to focus and get her own job done, which was to make sure this machine worked for as long as they needed it to. As she scanned the info scrolling on the screen, her eye caught something. “I’ve got a drift,” she said.

  “Shit, compensating,” Entara said. At Three’s mark they translocated the next vial away. Dessa let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.

  The process repeated itself, with Fúl producing the vials, handing them off to Dev who would place them on the pad and wait for Three’s signal. Each time, Entara and Dessa managed to keep the system working as Three kept the ship steady with those that were still in pursuit. And more than once their armor took a hit. But in the end, they managed to send all nine vials off the ship.

  “Bridge,” Dev said, smiling at both Entara and Dessa. “We’re clear down here. Engage phase two.”

  “Acknowledged,” Traxia said. “Good work team.”

  Dessa smiled. It felt good to be part of a team again. Better than it ever had back on Axinal.

  37

  Hurk

  “Moment of truth,” Traxia said, staring out the main window. Dask still hadn’t finished sealing the hole, but he’d erected a portable force barrier to cover the opening. It was a small area, and they just had to pray it would hold. Both of Traxia’s palms were sweatier than usual and she wiped the good one on her pants. If this didn’t work, the orbital platforms would target and destroy the ship less than a second after they left the atmosphere.

  “Trax, come on, those ships aren’t getting any further away,” Dask said, pointing to the five ships behind them. Three had managed to stave them off this long, but even she couldn’t hold out forever. And every second they waited was just one more where an errant blast from one of their blade launchers might be Mettle’s last critical hit.

  “Okay. Three. Take us out of the atmosphere.”

  “Yes, Captain,” Three said. The ship immediately changed directions and pointed up, heading away from the surface. They’d made it almost halfway around the moon leading Tir’shan’s ships on a wild chase. The Darkness-class destroyers had taken a few shots at Mettle, but Traxia surmised they were there more as a deterrent to keep the Mettle from leaving. For whatever reason, Tir’shan really wanted his people back. She kept a close eye on the tactical screen and sure enough, both destroyers activated their weapon systems again in response to Mettle climbing in the atmosphere.

  “You might have to do more of that fancy flying,” Traxia added. “Those Destroyers just targeted us again.”

  “No problem,” Three said, pulling the ship into a corkscrew.

  “I’m gonna be sick,” Rep said. All of them except for Three were being pulled sharply to the left as the ship continued to screw its way up through the layers of atmosphere.

  “No, you won’t. You throw up when we’re being pulled in the opposite direction!” Dask yelled. The ship jerked back, and Mettle’s bulkheads cried out in protest. “Don’t tear the ship apart!”

  The robot didn’t respond. The ship shuddered from a near miss and Traxia had to strain to check the tactical board again. The five ships were still in pursuit, while the Darkness-class ships remained above. Traxia wasn’t sure how Three was doing it, but somehow she was managing to avoid almost all the weapons fire and keep them on track for leaving the atmosphere. Seconds later, the weapons fire died off and Three managed to put them into a more stable climb.

  “What happened?” Rep asked.

  “They’ve probably given up,” Traxia said. “They’re going to let the orbital platforms do the work for them.”

  “Then why are they still in pursuit?” Dask asked.

  She turned to him. “The same reason we would be if the tables were turned. Salvage.”

  “Passing the last terminus of the atmosphere now,” Three said. Traxia bore down. If Dev’s plan didn’t work, she probably wouldn’t even feel it when they blew the ship apart. If she was lucky, the bridge would take a direct hit and it would all be over in microseconds. But if the translocator had worked, and Dev had transferred all the vials off the ship as planned, they would know shortly.

  “Clear of the atmosphere,” Three said.

  Traxia scanned the defense net. The orbital platforms near their position were beginning to activate. “Oh fuck.” She couldn’t help but brace herself. “They’re firing.”

  Behind them, all five of the pursuing ships exploded in a spectacular fashion. The blasts were charged with so much energy, the Mettle shuddered from the shockwaves.

  “I must have been mistaken,” Three said. “We must have still been within the uppermost limits of the moon’s thermosphere. Adjusting course to compensate.”

  “Wait, did we just win?” Rep asked.

  Traxia couldn’t quite believe it herself. She nodded. “We did. Dev had Fúl pull samples containing the tracking data from Entara’s people which they transported into the hulls of those other ships. They never knew it was there.”

  “What about those Darkness-class bastards,” Dask asked. “They weren’t—”

  “Look,” Traxia said, sending the relevant information over to his console. As soon as the larger ships had begun to climb to pursue the Mettle, the platforms obliterated their bridges, right where Dev said they were sending the trackers. Both ships were in the process of falling into the atmosphere again, their hulls heating up from the friction.

  “Well I’ll be damned,” Dask said.

  “I just wish I could have seen Tir’shan’s face when he realized his fully-staffed, and no doubt expensive, ships were destroyed by his own defense system,” Traxia said, sitting back and taking a deep breath. She sent a text comm to Dev, letting him know they’d been successful. “Three, set a course out of Ventral space. I’ve had enough of this place.”

  “Um, Captain,” Rep said, turning in his seat. “You might get that wish after all.”

  Dev had to admit, it had been a long shot. He figured the machine would break down halfway through, and they’d be stuck with the vials and nothing to do with them. Or Fúl wouldn’t have been able to extract the data. Fortunately, Fúl’s experiments in splitting the mammalian DNA to win that bet had given him the confidence he could do it on a larger scale. He’d managed to separate the sequences into a little bit of blood from each person. All that gambling had finally paid off.

  Dev walked over to Fúl, who had slid down the back wall, the extractor still in his hand. By sheer force of will, he’d made himself do the work with each of Entara’s people. It couldn’t have been easy, given his condition; and yet somehow he’d done it. Dev bent down on one leg. “Fúl? Are you okay?”

  “Get away from me, you traitor,” he whispered, holding the extractor close to his chest. “I don’t know what you just made me do, but you won’t get away with it.” His face was contorted in pain, and covered in a sheen of sweat, or whatever the Goruffian equivalent was.

  “Don’t worry. You did the right thing. If it weren’t for you, we never could have gotten out of this.” Dev turned and motioned to Jugal who, along with the rest of Entara’s people, were congratulating each other, including Dessa. She might be able to help get him back to sickbay. “I’ll let Trax kno—hurk!” Dev couldn’t breathe. A strong hand had found its way around his neck, cutting off both his air and crushing his windpipe. Dev was sure in the moment it took Jugal and the others to run over to him, his neck would break. But Entara’s Arc-N’gali friend barreled into Fúl, knocking him back and causing his grip to loosen. Dev fell to the ground coughing.

  “Dev!” Dessa was beside him, as he gasped and heaved, trying to catch his breath. Jugal came up beside him and he could feel the softness of her feathered hand on his neck, probing for any damage Fúl might have done.

  “It’s not permanently damaged, but it will be bruised,” she said. Dev sat back, still trying to catch his breath. Entara’s people were wrestling with Fúl, trying to get him to calm down. “Is it permissible if I give him a sedative?”

  Dev nodded. Fúl was a danger not only to others but himself as well. And until they could find his medication, he was better off unconscious.

  Jugal ran back over to the kit she’d brought with her; the same one she’d treated Traxia with and withdrew a small device. Fúl was kicking and screaming against the four other individuals holding him down. Dev had forgotten just how strong he was. He was thankful he hadn’t been alone with Fúl, otherwise he’d no doubt be dead right now.

  Jugal pressed the device to Fúl’s neck and he went limp, hanging until the others laid him out on the deck of the cargo bay.

  “Are you okay?” Dessa asked.

  Dev swallowed a few times, testing his esophagus. Breathing deep was difficult, but not impossible. He took a few long breaths. “I think so,” he whispered. He coughed a few more times. “He’s got a grip.” Dev’s comm chirped again. He swallowed hard. “Go ahead.”

  “Small problem,” Traxia said.

  “I thought it worked,” he said, exchanging glances with Dessa. Entara looked over from where she stood over Fúl.

  “It did, we just didn’t count on Tir’shan having a massive warship already in orbit. He’s got us dead to rights, demanding the return of his people.”

  “Bastard,” Entara whispered.

  “Can’t we jump to an undercurrent?” Dev asked.

  “Not until Dask finishes repairing the hole in the bridge. The force barrier won’t hold.” There was a pause on the other end. “He says he’s still willing to let us go. Apparently, he’s impressed with our ability to improvise.”

  Dev glanced to Entara. She shrugged. “He respects power. You pulled one over on him, he might see it as a strength.” Dev could already hear the defeat in her voice.

  “What do you want to do?” Dev croaked. He didn’t take his eyes off Entara, but from her facial expression he could tell she figured Traxia would give up her and her people.

  “It’s either die with them, or live knowing we sacrificed even more people to a fate worse than death.”

  “It’s how things work in the Commonwealth, isn’t it?” He caught Entara’s eye.

  “It is.”

  “Where is Tir’shan?” Dev asked.

  “One moment.” Silence on the other end. Dev glanced at Dessa who’d turned away from him. “According to the bioscanner we think he’s on that ship. On the bridge.”

  “Makes sense,” Entara said. “As soon as he realized something was wrong, he probably left his compound for his flagship. Just in case. He’s not stupid.” She slid down the console much like Fúl had, sitting on the floor.

  Dev glanced down to the blaster Traxia had given him, still hanging on his hip. “Okay,” he said. “Okay.” Softer this time.

  “Okay what?” Traxia asked.

  “Tell Three to get ready to punch it, you’re going to have to be quick. You’ll have a few minutes to get back in the moon’s atmosphere and Dask can finish patching that hole. Then you guys get the hell out of here.”

  “Wait a second, what are you—” Dev cut the comm, turning it off. Entara glanced up at him.

  “I need you two to get me over to that ship,” Dev said, removing the blaster and activating it.

  Entara stood. “What are you doing?” Dessa turned to face him.

  “What I should have done from the beginning,” Dev said. He walked over to the main part of the translocator. “Send me straight to the flagship’s bridge. Both ships are stationary, so you shouldn’t have a problem.”

  “Wait a second,” Entara said. “You can’t just go over there, they’ll kill you.”

  “I know,” Dev said. “But hopefully not before I kill Tir’shan first. It has to end.”

  “Dev,” Dessa said. “The Coalition regulations on self-defense—”

  “—don’t apply, I know. I’m violating my oath. But if the last action I take is to rid this galaxy of a cancer, and improve the lives of its citizens, maybe it’s not such a bad deal.” He walked up the two steps, so he was on top of the platform. Entara’s face was awash in confusion. “I’m sorry it took me so long to see the situation for what it really is. I should have been more compassionate. You’re not bad, you’re desperate. I swore to myself when we came out of the war with the Athru I would never find myself on the wrong side of doing what’s right ever again. But somewhere along the line I forgot what’s right doesn’t always mean what’s legal. Or fair. And for that, I can’t apologize enough.”

  “You’re sure about this?” Entara said. He nodded. “Help me?” She looked to Dessa.

  “Dev…”

  “Do better than I did,” Dev said. “Make sure these people are safe. And make sure this crew gets out of here. Can I trust you?” Dessa nodded. “Good.”

  “Devren!”

  He glanced up to see Traxia standing on the landing up on the fourth level. She was huffing like she’d run the entire way and her face was flushed. He lifted a hand and gave her a quick wave and a smile. “Do it,” he said.

  As Traxia’s eyes grew wide, Dev’s whole body shuddered and the cargo bay disappeared, as if it had never existed.

  38

  Circumstances

  Dev thought his insides were being pulled apart, like stringy meat being pulled from a dead carcass. He couldn’t even describe the sensation if he wanted to, all he knew was it wasn’t pleasant, and he wished he’d never even stepped onto that pad.

  But almost as soon as it had started it was over, and Dev found himself in the dark corner of some ship he didn’t recognize. He pitched forward and retched on the ground, falling to his knees. He dry heaved for a few moments before getting control of himself. His already sore throat was now on fire and his blaster was off to the side, having fallen from his hand. It took him a moment to regain his thoughts; his mind felt like it had been scrambled in a bowl. Looking around, he discovered he was in a supply room, as there were components and extra materials all around him, some in barrels and crates. Allowing a moan to escape his lips, Dev found his footing and picked up his blaster, intent on finishing this.

  Was that what the translocation process was like for everyone? Did it make you violently ill every time? He wasn’t sure if he could see it becoming the universe-changing technology Nolan purported it to be. Dev smiled; Nolan must have gone through a similar set of sensations when he “landed”. The thought of Nolan on all fours, puking his guts out would always bring a smile to Dev’s face. But for the moment he needed to focus.

  The supply room was its own unit, sealed off from the rest of the ship by a series of doors at different sides. Dev activated his comm again so he could read the Sargan writing on the signs and walls. There was a door nearby that pointed to the bridge. He smiled. Entara must have anticipated the translocation process might be rough and put him somewhere on the ship she knew he’d have a few moments of privacy to gather himself. If he’d appeared right on the bridge, he probably would have been killed before standing up.

  Dev thought he would be nervous about killing Tir’shan, but it was the opposite: he felt complete calm. Despite everything he lived by, this was the right call, and every part of him knew it. No wonder he’d had so much trouble figuring out what to do with Entara when they’d arrived, he hadn’t been willing to accept the situation for what it was. But now it was time to take care of things for good. So, she, and her people—not just the other eight on the team with her—could live in peace.

  The door to the outer hallway opened silently, sliding away and Dev crept out into the large space. He caught a flurry of voices from somewhere up ahead but stayed in the shadows. The area before him was large, like an open plaza with one side that had more doors he could only assume provided hypervator access. Kor, how he missed hypervators. Climbing up and down those ladders on Mettle all day became tiresome after a short amount of time. But he wouldn’t have to worry about that for much longer. Dev wouldn’t have to worry about anything. He just needed to make sure he did what he came to do. It wouldn’t do him any good to screw up now and die for nothing.

  Dev turned the corner, blaster still in hand to see the bridge wasn’t necessarily its own room, rather just an extension of the plaza he’d been following since the storage room. The deck he was on extended into the bridge space where it ended about halfway up, with a thin fence barrier. This overlook stood above the control stations for the bridge which were about a floor or two down as best he could tell, though there were a few other stations on the sides, halfway up the walls. Dev screwed up his face. How did the Sargans even get to those control stations? But sure enough, there were people holding those positions, sitting on custom-made chairs jutting out from the wall at a ninety-degree angle. The whole bridge was encompassed by a four-level high segmented transparent bubble, that gave an impressive view to the world outside. Dev couldn’t help but admire the hubris of someone so arrogant they had built a four-story target right around their most important room. Maybe it was Tir’shan’s way of showing just how powerful he was that he could strut out his flagship with something like that on its front and not have to worry about it being destroyed by an enemy. Dev had to admit, it was one of the most beautiful bridges he’d ever seen. To him it looked more like an observatory.

 

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