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EON’S EDGE

STARSHIP BANDITS

BOOK SEVEN

ROSS BUZZELL

BOOKS IN THE STARSHIP BANDITS UNIVERSE

1. Starship Bandits

2. The Last Scoundrel

3. Deadman’s Run

4. War Tide

5. Void Signal

6. Dark Matter Gambit

7. Eon’s Edge

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PREVIOUSLY IN STARSHIP BANDITS

The Junkyard’s crew attempted to take some downtime on Dalia’s home world of Dal’no’nuuur only to be interrupted by a Bastet who fancied himself a bounty hunter.

With some flashy tech, a big mouth, and more confidence than intelligence he managed to blow himself up thanks to the passive processing power of the cyber-pup PITA.

Dax and his crew dug into the man responsible for sending Con to capture them. A collector, by the name of Tussanu, wished to add the only known humans and off-world Dal’no to his exhibitions.

Tracking down Tussanu through their own contacts on Tachyon, Dax and his team discovered his location, and that he was putting on a meet-and-greet of the wealthiest and most underhanded people in the galaxy.

Dalia and Sandrina used it as an excuse to go on an elaborate shopping spree, giving makeovers to the entire crew before diving into their new mission.

Tacking him down, they delved into a side of their job no one was familiar with, social stealth.

Between avoiding the female equivalent of Cassanova and operating unnoticed, Dax uncovered that Tylira was behind their attack. She was puppeting Tussanu in a desperate attempt to get her hands around Dax’s neck.

After breaking into Tussanu’s safe, springing the trap meant to capture them in an attempt to lure out their pursuer, Tylira once again slipped through their fingers, leaving the Junkyard crew with fewer enemies and one angry socialite Dax hopes to never see again, and for her sake, never meets Dalia.

PROLOGUE

Dax sat quietly in the dark. The fog of sleep still lingered across his brain while the sound of an incoming transmission echoed quietly through the Junkyard. He ignored it, resting his elbows on his knees and head in his hands before letting out a soft, groggy groan.

“Hello?” Mark’s voice sounded.

It was barely a whisper, not to wake the rest of the sleeping crew. Dax could still hear him clear as day.

“Hey, my Mijo,” Ashley’s voice replied, full of love.

“Hey, Mom, how are you doing?”

“Well, I wanted to see how you were. I heard about you taking down some man who wanted to capture you?”

“Yeah, he was a collector of rare items. Figured humans would be a good addition,” Mark replied. “I got to go undercover, which was fun. I still haven’t been able to get all the blue off me, though.”

“That sounds exciting. Were you able to talk him into leaving you alone?”

“No, turns out the Valtakuntera were the ones who pointed him our way and he was working with Tylira, the lady who did this. Once her cover was blown, she killed him and escaped. Kane’s working on a plan to stop her from getting away next time we cross paths.”

“I hope you get her,” Ashley said. “I wanted to let you know that we’re done with our mission. Every spore and fungal stalk has been successfully wiped out. You don’t have to worry about the bugs, or… zombies. Is that the right word? Anymore.”

“I think it would technically be ‘infected’ since they didn’t die and reanimate. Maybe puppeted? Some were dead and their bodies were just moved like a meat mech. Others were left conscious but no longer in control of their bodies.”

“That sounds terrifying,” Ashley whispered.

As they spoke, Dax’s fingers ran over the bite scar on his forearm. Even with the enhanced healing, it hadn’t faded in the slightest in the months following the event.

“I’m sure it was. I’m just glad it’s over now,” Mark replied. “When are you guys going back to Earth?”

“I don’t know if we are, sweety. Things have gotten bad since you were there last. Emotions have been heightened from accusations of hiding a militant alien visitation and claiming of alien technology,” Ashley explained. “Every nation wants a piece of the Valtakuntera tech that was left behind.”

“That’s unfortunate, but inevitable,” Mark sighed.

A tingle ran down Dax’s leg, sending a wave of pins and needles following quickly.

“But if you’re not going to go back to Earth, you can’t just be flying around. Out of our system, you’ll run into the Valtakuntera, who would be more than happy to capture the mother of their grand weapon,” Mark explained. “And you can’t just drift in Earth’s sector of space. The Leviathan’s there and will be attracted to the plasma in your ship.”

The pins and needles grew, spreading to the other leg, accompanied by a soft burning.

“I know, we already spoke with Dalia. She said that we’re more than welcome to settle on Dal’no’nuuur.”

Dax flinched. He leaned to one side. The motion detector’s blink behind him shone brightly in the pitch-black room. A rumble of the flushing toilet sounded throughout the silent ship.

Dax winced. He gritted his teeth while an accusatory quiet fell over the craft.

“Dax?” Mark asked.

“Sorry,” Dax replied.

1

ENQUIRY

The dull pain of a fist howled through Dax’s cheek. His head twisted to the side from a hand twice the size of his own. Leaving his head open, he caught the second blow that was aimed for his gut.

A shockwave from impact rattled through his skeleton, sending tingling waves through his arms while his feet were pulled off the ground. With all his might, Dax pushed off the fist on its follow-through. Throwing his upper body back, he kicked his legs up, catching his attacker under the chin.

Dax tucked his knees while the large humanoid staggered backward. Landing on his feet, the taste of copper filled his mouth. He rubbed his hand across his lip. Pulling it away revealed a streak of crimson.

“Nobody makes me bleed my own blood,” he growled.

Dax slapped his thighs twice before bringing both hands straight up. His fingertips touched while he let out a hiss. Charging the humanoid that stood head and shoulders above Dalia, he jumped, placing one foot on the man’s thigh while he held his face.

Dax grabbed his opponent’s wrist. With a powerful yank, he pulled the arm straight out. He jumped, spun and wrapped his legs around the large man’s arm before throwing his weight to one side.

The man’s steel wire-like muscles tightened against Dax’s hold, arresting his momentum. Fighting Dax’s feet, he turned his rage-filled glare at him, holding him in place while supporting all two hundred pounds of mass with just his shoulder muscles.

“I’m in big trouble, aren’t I?” Dax asked.

“Yes,” the man snarled.

He opened his fist and threw his arm forward. Dax slid off, bounced against the hard log floor of his bungalow and rolled onto the white sand beach. He pushed the pain from his mind while clenching his fists and standing up.

The large, grey-skinned man walked through the hole where Dax’s door once was before it got kicked in. Smoke swirled off the thatch roof of his abode. Planting his feet, he brought his fists up to protect his face.

“Look, I didn’t mean to burn the eggs. You can let the director of security know I’ll happily pay for the damages if you just let me put the fire out first.”

The giant kept marching toward him. Dax let out a frustrated sigh, rocking his head to one side.

“You know, if I had forearms the size of a human thigh, I’d do so much more with that strength than just beat up unsuspecting vacationers. I will give you one final warning. If you continue marching toward me, I’ll be forced to take a page out of Hank Hill’s book.”

He continued toward Dax. As he wound up for another punch, Dax sighed. He threw his fist forward, opening his hand. A cloud of sand flew into his attacker’s face.

“Whaaa! Pocket sand!”

The giant reeled back. Dax threw the sand in his other hand into his attacker’s face. He pushed forward with his back foot, letting his front heel slide in the velvety sand.

Reaching a perfect split, Dax threw an uppercut with all his might. His fist met the giant’s no-no zone. A squeal left the grey-skinned man. The pain of sand in the eyes no longer being a concern, he held himself before dropping to his knees. Dax pushed off the beach, getting back to his feet.

Dax spun. His heel slammed into the side of his opponent’s head. It snapped to one side, sending the large man to the ground, unconscious. Dax threw up his fist, cleared his throat and said in the deepest voice he could muster:

“Johnny wins!”

“That’s great, but I’m having a little trouble,” Henuva shouted. “You want to give me a hand?”

The Valtukta stood in ankle deep water without his cybernetic arm or toes. Three men, the same race as Dax’s opponent but Henuva’s size, closed in around him. He used his damaged leg to block kicks while flailing wildly with his good arm to try and make contact with little to no success.

Dax charged as fast as he could toward his crewmate. Two of the attackers had their backs to him. With each step toward them, his mind raced, playing out a dozen different approaches. The third lined up in the center of Henuva’s attackers on the Valtukta’s far side before punching him in the face.

“Henuva, get down!”

“Already on it,” Henuva groaned.

He let the force of the punch knock him into the water. Before all three could start their assault, Dax jumped into the air. He spun, grabbing one of the aliens by their head while hooking his feet around the other’s.

With all his weight and momentum, he yanked the attackers off their feet. With all three flipping through the air, they collided with the remaining hired muscle. Crashing into the ocean, Dax ignored the sting of salty water in his eyes. He scrambled, getting a hand on the backs of the heads of two attackers. Henuva lunged onto the third.

“Where’d these guys come from?” Henuva panted.

Dax’s muscles tightened. He held the men in place as they fought against his superior strength.

“No idea. Jun didn’t warn us of an inbound ship; means they may be locals,” Dax grumbled.

“If so, the resort needs to do better at keeping their patrons safe!”

The struggling stopped. Dax stood up, throwing each unconscious man back onto land. Henuva followed his lead. They made their way back to the circle of bungalows they’d been calling home for the last few weeks.

A loud crash rose from Kane’s. A window shattered as one of the larger ambushers flew through the air. He slammed into the wall of Dax’s burning shelter before falling limp into the sand.

Kane staggered out in a bathrobe. A dark bruise covered half his face while he gave them a bloody smile.

“What are you so happy about?” Dax asked.

“Reminds me of the time I went to Cancun and opted for the cheaper resort.”

“Cartel?”

“They weren’t when I was done with them.” He chuckled.

“We need backup,” another attacker shouted.

He held his communicator close to his mouth while running away. Blood poured from his scalp and his free arm flopped limply at his side. With a primal scream, Mark lunged out of his bungalow, staff in hand.

Mark brought it down on the fleeing attacker’s back, bringing him to the ground. Two more rushed the young man from his home to apprehend him. With a graceful spin of his staff, he landed a flurry of blows on his pursuers, knocking them out.

“You seem to be handling yourself well,” Kane said.

“Better than you,” Mark teased. “Where are the ladies?”

“They were going to the bar,” Dax replied.

Without another word, all three rushed toward the swim-up bar, tucked away into the lush, tropical forest. Dax pushed through the undergrowth, listening for the telltale roar of a waterfall.

Once the sound caught his ear, he followed it as fast as he could, leaving the other three men behind. He shouted for Dalia. She didn’t answer. A pit formed in his stomach as every worst-case scenario played on a loop in his head.

He burst out of the tree line and onto the pool deck. Dozens of bodies were strewn around the artificial lagoon, some in the water, others on land, all of whom were the same race as those at the bungalows.

Relief washed over him at the sight of Sandrina, Jun and Dalia in their swim gear, leaning against the bar with what looked like margaritas in their hands. Their hair was frazzled, and alien blood coated their bruised knuckles, but they giggled, clinked glasses together and had a drink. Mark emerged from the tree line next. He let out a disappointed groan.

“Aw, man, I missed the Dead or Alive version of the fight? I would’ve paid to see that.”

“You boys okay?” Dalia asked once Kane and Henuva joined.

“Mostly. You?” Dax asked.

“The day is beautiful, the water is warm, I’ve got a cold drink in my hand, and I finally had a good fight. What is there to complain about?” Dalia asked.

A series of slow, continuous claps came from across the lagoon. The largest being Dax had seen outside of a Tardig emerged in a nice suit.

“Not another one of these jokers,” Mark grumbled.

“Outstanding,” the man called out. “I apologize for the violent outbursts of my colleagues. This was not the plan.”

Jun pulled the umbrella from her drink and slid it between her fingers.

“You have three seconds to tell us who you are and what you want, or I throw this umbrella into your throat,” she threatened.

“I am Tarluth, and I’m here on behalf of the Ryshy to offer you a job,” he said with a sly grin.

2

OFFER

“What are you doing?” a familiar voice boomed from the trees. “I told you to let me talk to them first.”

Tarluth glanced over his shoulder before looking back at the crew. Dax’s eyes darted around the pool area. A few yards away was the leg of a broken metal chair, and the body it was broken on. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Kane and Mark keeping a weather eye on their surroundings.

“Your stories about this crew of bandits seemed exaggerated. I wanted to make sure they were as capable as you actually claimed. Clearly, you weren’t weaving tales.”

Ruthnar emerged from the trees. He wore civilian clothing while his features were pulled back in a scowl.

“They are under the protection of the Broken Shield. They have paid us, meaning you made us culpable in breaking a contract,” Ruthnar snarled.

He placed a claw under Tarluth’s chin.

“Someone want to tell us what’s going on here?” Dax asked, inching toward the chair leg.

Ruthnar snapped out of his tunnel vision and locked eyes with Dax. His smile widened before turning his attention to the other men of the crew.

“They weren’t really that hard to beat,” Sandrina said, sipping her drink.

Ruthnar looked at the swimsuit-clad women. If a lizard could blush, he would’ve—before returning his focus to Tarluth.

“I am a scout; my job is to find skilled people to hire in assistance of the Ryshy. You all have made a name for yourselves as being a thorn in the Valtakuntera’s sides. It’s attracted the attention of my employers, and they wish to hire you.”

Tarluth placed a hand on Ruthnar’s and pushed the claw under his chin away.

“You forced us to kill people just to test us?” Jun asked.

“You didn’t kill anybody,” Tarluth countered.

“Half a dozen drowned bodies beg to differ,” Mark cut in.

“And that doesn’t include the other handful of brain matter I can see from here,” Kane added.

Henuva approached one of the bodies. While everyone watched him inspect it, Dax reached the leg and slid his toes under it, positioning his hand just above it so he could catch the metal with a flick of his ankle.

“Ohhh, that’s fascinating,” Henuva whispered. “How’d you pull this off? I’ve been trying for a hundred years and never got this close.”

“I have a mutation not found in others of my species that makes cloning difficult, but not impossible,” Tarluth mused. “Unfortunately, there have been complications I’ve never been able to iron out.”

Dax’s stomach sank. He looked around. Some of the unconscious men were starting to wake back up. Every single one of them looked exactly like Tarluth.

“Since you killed me, I can confirm you didn’t murder anyone.”

“They’re still living beings,” Mark cut in.

“Living beings whose brains aren’t fully developed and had to have electronics wired in to keep them going. In reality, these are flesh and blood androids.”

“That prospect is terrifying,” Jun muttered into her drink.

“How about you stop pontificating and tell us what you want.” Dax cut to the chase. “The last time we dealt with the Ryshy, they were blockading a world, preventing Sandrina from getting much needed supplies.”

“And he had to fight Ruthnar for the right to just go to the planet’s surface,” Dalia chimed in. “Which almost killed him.”

“Yes, I have heard of your incredible abilities, and the scientist who made them possible,” Tarluth said, looking at Henuva. “While the honor fighting of the Dracolich can be frustrating at times, the real reason we were blockading was because of Sandrina.”

“Excuse the what now?” Sandrina asked, putting her drink down.

“We were aware that you had ties to Znanstvenk Henuva. We couldn’t let you share the location of that planet you were on.”

He let out a chuckle before walking toward the water’s edge. With a snap of his fingers his clones, still capable of movement, formed up behind him.

“The way metal formed in that planet’s crust is unique in the universe. We were trying to prevent the Valtakuntera from getting their hands on it,” Tarluth explained. “If they found out, they would’ve stripped the planet bare, taken the metal and used it for weapons and armor. They would’ve been able to roll over the galaxy with greater ease than they do now.”

“I remember that world,” Henuva said, snapping his fingers in thought. “We sent a probe there. The oxygen saturation of the planet wasn’t high enough for my experiment to survive. If we would’ve known that, though, we would’ve laid siege.”

“Yeah, they worshipped that probe as a gift from their gods. It started a civil war that could’ve wiped out the entire species,” Sandrina explained.

“Don’t I know it,” Dalia added, rubbing her back.

“Right, Kane and I stole the device and used it to wipe out the bugs.” Dax chuckled.

“And that turned out wonderful.” Henuva laughed. “How’s the arm doing?”

Dax shot the Valtukta a taunting glance. Tarluth’s prickly brow raised. A hand moved toward his beltline. Dax’s muscles tightened, ready to kick up the chair leg.

“And now?”

“The Valtakuntera’s being led by a psychopath. If you’re looking to burn it down, I say we join,” Henuva replied.

Tarluth looked at Dax for confirmation.

“He’s not lying. If he wanted us dead, or captured, we wouldn’t be here,” Dax replied before looking at Ruthnar. “Two things for you. Can you vouch for this man? And tell him to get rid of the weapon before I stab him with a chair leg.”

“You wouldn’t.” Tarluth chuckled.

He trailed off while looking around the group, the Dracolich nodding in confirmation.

“Okay then.”

The gray-skinned man slowly pulled a pistol from behind his back. He set it on the ground and kicked it away.

“He’s unorthodox, but he’s not lying,” Ruthnar replied. “If the Ryshy want you for a job and they sent him, it’s an important job.”

“Swear on your honor,” Dalia cut in.

“Excuse me?” Ruthnar asked.

“She’s right,” Kane added. “Swear on your honor as a Dracolich and a warrior that he won’t backstab us.”

“If he does, I’ll kill him and every one of his clones personally before throwing myself at your feet,” Ruthnar replied.

“You wouldn’t,” Tarluth said, chuckling.

“I’m bound to you by contract; I’m bound to them by honor,” Ruthnar let out a low growl.

“I guess you would, then.”

“And we pay you handsomely,” Jun added.

“I feel like I owe you all an apology. I didn’t know Sandrina was working with Henuva. I would’ve told you.”

“That’s okay, Ruthnar,” Dalia chimed in. “We’re all good now.”

Henuva walked to the swim-up bar. He looked behind it to the collection of bottles before pulling one out with a cork sticking from its top. Biting it out, he spat it to the ground and started to chug.

“Easy there, bud,” Dax called out. “You’re going to want to slow down on that. You don’t have the body mass you used to.”

Henuva lowered the bottle before taking it from his lips.

“Oh, ha-ha,” he said sarcastically. “I may not be a part of the Valtakuntera anymore. I may have even warmed up to you guys. But this one-armed, four-toed, half-eared boozy drinker’s not ready to listen to the Ryshy just yet.”

He had another swig before limping toward the tree line.

“I’m going back to the ship, and if I find any of your clones there, I’m having PITA burn them,” Henuva said, disappearing into the forest.

“I’m assuming PITA is your robotic dog?” Tarluth asked.

“He is,” Kane replied.

“And he’s a good boy,” Mark added.

“That’s up for debate,” Sandrina chimed in.

“The scout team I sent to investigate your ship hasn’t reported back.”

Jun placed her drink on the bar. Her eyes went blank, and her body fell limp. Dalia grabbed her, stopping her from sinking to the bottom of the blue pool. After a few seconds, she regained control of her body.

“That is because they are all burned to a crisp. According to the sensors and cameras, PITA’s been busy. Not a single one of your men made it onto the ship,” Jun explained.

“Even your robots are as lethal as they claim. I’m impressed,” Tarluth said.

The man Dax knocked out emerged from the forest, rubbing the back of his head. Dax kicked up the chair leg, caught it and pointed it at the big man.

“You’re going to stay right there, or I’m putting this chair leg where I punched you.”

Tarluth’s clone froze in place. Keeping his eye on the giant, Dax motioned toward Ruthnar.

“Give us one good reason to listen to a man who’s clearly morally gray, willing to clone himself and have them attack us as a test?”

“Bleeze is closer to morally black than Tarluth,” Ruthnar replied. “But to answer your question, the Ryshy want to become part of the galactic senate, but the Valtakuntera are blocking their path.”

“You don’t have bureaucrats and lawyers that can find underhanded ways to cheat your way in?” Dax asked.

“We’re not talking from a legal standpoint,” Tarluth explained. “We’re talking from a very literal place; they are blocking us.”

“So, you need a battle plan?” Kane asked. “I’ve heard multiple times that the Ryshy is the second largest faction in the galaxy, and you don’t have anyone who can develop a simple combat strategy?”

“It’s less that we can’t and more that there’s no one with the propensity for violence and improvisation that your species seems to have,” Tarluth replied. “We’ve tried. Hundreds of times at this point. No one’s survived.”

“And you want us to walk into that meat grinder?” Sandrina asked.

“I believe that in this case, you would be the meat grinder,” Tarluth explained.

“And you’d have tactical support of the Broken Shields, paid for by the Ryshy, so you won’t need to worry about your flank.”

Dax looked at his team. He walked over to Kane and handed the broken chair leg to him.

“Big guy moves, stab him. He’s significantly stronger than me, so don’t fight fair.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Kane replied.

In his swimsuit and sandals, he waded through the waist-deep water of the lagoon to the women.

“Jun,” he whispered. “What are you picking up?”

Dax’s translator thrummed against his skull as her voice echoed in his head.

“Vitals indicate he’s telling the truth. I’ve hacked his personal data pad. Correspondence indicates there’s an inevitable collapse of the Ryshy if they don’t join the senate. Based on information from other failed attempts, taking into consideration none had the processing power of a true AI, I put our chances at success far greater than I would’ve put on surviving Tussanu.”

“Those are good odds,” he muttered.

“What odds?” Dalia asked.

She shook her head, waved him off and took a drink.

“Never mind, never tell me the odds.”

Dax shot a look at Mark, who motioned at his staff.

“If I can get more tech like this, I’m in,” he said.

“If it gets us one step closer to our goal, I accept,” Kane added.

Dax turned to the women. Dalia and Jun both nodded.

“It’ll be the least I can do for reporting on you to them,” Sandrina added.

“So be it,” Dax said, turning to the Ryshy representative. “We’ll hear your pitch. Before diving into anything, you should know, we’re not cheap. And all but two of the people who’ve double-crossed us are no longer breathing.”

“I wouldn’t dare. And I don’t have the information. It’s secured. I can escort you to the Ryshy center where my superiors can give you your mission,” Tarluth explained.

Jun drew everyone’s attention by grabbing her glass and chugging it before setting it down.

“You’re an android; you don’t have any way to process alcohol. Why are you even drinking?” Dax asked.

“I can still taste,” she replied. “And this android body can consume mass to add to its charge.”

“Oh, so by eating, you extend your range… that’s not a horrifying concept whatsoever,” Dax said.

3

VESSEL

The Junkyard’s engines roared to life. It lifted off the ground before Mark flew them out of the cave he’d parked it in. Dax stood behind him, looking at the pillar of smoke billowing from the bungalows that were now all burning. A small fire brigade stood on the beach, hoses in the water while pumps launched torrents into the flames.

“I don’t think we’re getting our deposit back,” Dax said with a grimace.

“It’s a good thing I gave them a fake name too, and paid with a dummy account; otherwise, we’d probably get an invoice as well,” Mark snickered.

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Ruthnar chimed in, being escorted from the kitchen by Kane. “The Ryshy will make sure it gets rebuilt. They’re the ones who started the whole thing anyway.”

“About that. Once we get to space, should we just punch it and run?” Dalia asked, standing at her mounted armor, inspecting her weapons. “Or should we suit up and fight?”

“This isn’t a trap scenario,” Ruthnar explained. “While taking a really dumb approach, Tarluth is telling the truth. It’s not a trap; they really want to hire you.”

“What if we don’t want to take the job?” Sandrina asked.

She emerged from her room in a jumpsuit while pulling back her green hair.

“He did mention it paid well. And the Ryshy pay disgustingly well,” Ruthnar countered.

“And if no amount of money would be enough?” the Junkyard asked through her speakers.

“Then I’d be compelled to tell you about who’s responsible for the deaths of every other team we’ve sent on this mission.”

PITA perked up from his charger under the pilot’s station.

“Who might that be?” Dax asked.

Mark pulled back on the yoke, activating the ship’s artificial gravity. They punched through the clouds while the world’s blue sky started to turn black.

“A group known as the Death Squad. Highly advanced, genetically altered Valtukta…”

Dax put his hand up, cutting him off while nodding.

“We’re painfully aware of who the Death Squad is,” he said.

“Yeah, you could say we’ve had an eye on them for a while,” Mark replied.

“Bleeze even gave them a hand,” Dalia chimed in.

Ruthnar’s face contorted in embarrassment. He glanced around the room, doing a quick inventory of everyone’s expressions.

“Right, I seem to have forgotten about that. I apologize,” he muttered.

“No worries,” Kane jumped in. “But you’re saying with this mission, we may run into Tylira?”

“Ryshy intelligence suggests when she’s not tracking you, she’s trying to stop us, and this time, you may actually be able to get the drop on her,” Ruthnar replied.

“Yes,” PITA snarled while Cannibal Corpse's “Hammer Smashed Face” softly played from his speakers. “Finally, blood.”

“Cool your jets, Cujo,” Dax jumped in.

The robot corgi lay back down to continue to recharge.

“I know the second half of that Bible verse says to turn the other cheek, but I’m all in. I want an eye.”

“Our triage stores are low,” Sandrina said. “If we’re going after Tylira, I want to be overstocked on everything.”

“We’re not going after Tylira,” Dalia cut in. “We just may run into her.”

“Yeah, and if the incident when she got her hands on Mark has taught me anything, it’s to be medically ready for everything, up to and including her ripping out one of your hearts.”

“I don’t think even the Valtakuntera have that level of technology; the Ryshy would be more than happy to supply you, I’d imagine,” Ruthnar said.

Dax looked back out of the viewport to see Tarluth’s ship approaching a gargantuan, intimidating vessel looming over the tropical planet.

“That’s not disconcerting whatsoever,” Mark said.

“That’s a Ryshy trade ship,” Ruthnar explained. “It’s re-supplying the planet.”

“Convenient they happen to be resupplying just when we’re on vacation,” Dalia teased.

“Speaking of vacation. Should you change out of your bikini?” Dax asked.

“The Ryshy have lax dress code standards, but they’re still professionals,” Ruthnar added.

“Fine, I’ll get changed,” Dalia huffed.

She left her armor alone and walked toward the crew quarters.

“Nooooooo,” PITA called out.

His shout drew everyone’s attention.

“Sorry, I was just verbalizing what was going on in Mark’s head,” the dog said.

He quickly laid his head back down and his eyes shut off. Dax looked at Mark to see the nape of his neck, the tops of his ears and cheeks turn beet red.

“Absolutely not,” Mark jumped in. “I’m completely focused on my flying. Besides, I’ve been done with hitting on Dalia for a while.”

Dax fought the playful smirk that tried to pull itself to life. He shot a quick look at Kane and Ruthnar. Dax shook his head while he leaned down next to Mark’s ear.

“She not good-looking enough for you anymore?” Dax whispered.

“What? No!” Mark shuddered in his seat. “She’s still an absolute hottie.”

“So, you are eyeing my girl?”

“Not what I said!”

“Then what were you saying?”

“I think he’s saying he’s got eyes for another woman,” the Junkyard piled on.

“I respect you too much to continue hitting on your Battle Bonded, and the god-level trolling PITA does doesn’t reflect my stance or point of view on any topic at any time,” Mark whimpered

“Will both of you stop torturing the young man?” Sandrina asked. “He’s got to land us safely on that ship. That takes concentration that you’re currently pulling from him and I’d very much like to not blow up because he’s trying to appease a father figure and whatever the Junkyard is. And no, I don’t want to get into what that might be.”

“Nobody does,” Kane added.

Dax let out a chuckle and stood back up before giving Mark a pat on the back.

“I hate you so much,” he grumbled.

“I know.” Dax chuckled. “Get us landed safely.”

Mark rolled his eyes. Dax turned back to Ruthnar.

“I’m going to get out of my swimsuit and into something a little more appropriate. While I do, do you think you can give us more details on the situation?”

“Unfortunately, I don’t have those details. I just know the same premise that was brought to me before we found you.”

“Good to know. Kane, I’m kind of surprised you didn’t get him a cup of coffee,” Dax said, making his way toward his room.

“After Henuva’s reaction, I thought it prudent to wait until we could make sure a Dracolich could handle it before making the offer. And we don’t have time to run those tests.”

“Good point.”

Dax made his way to his door. He noticed Henuva’s was cracked slightly. The Valtukta muttered an old drinking song he’d heard once or twice. Dax opened his door, slipped in quickly and shut it before turning around.

“Figured I’d get out of my swimsuit too,” he said.

“Yeah right, you just wanted to sneak a peek,” Dalia teased, putting on her undergarments.

“It is a good peek,” Dax teased back. “And a view I never get tired of seeing.”

“Give it a century or two.”

Dax grabbed his clothes and started to change as well.

“You say that, but the beauty of being a man is that you could give us a million years, and we’d never get tired of ogling our woman.”

Dalia let out a chuckle while changing into an outfit similar to Dax’s. He threw on his jeans, boots, necklace with dangling trophies and white long-sleeved shirt. Slinging his shoulder holster on, he grabbed the Bastet pistol from its hiding place in their nest and slid it under his left arm.

“You’re sweet,” she mused. “And I appreciate that.”

Walking past him, she gave him a soft kiss before opening the door and walking out of their room.

“You forgot cute,” he called back. “I’m also very cute.”

“No one will argue with you on that.”

Dax grabbed his leather jacket and slung it over one shoulder. Stepping out of his room, he closed the door before poking his head into Henuva’s.

“You joining?”

“Are you kidding me?” Henuva slurred, half empty bottle in hand. “They’d kill me the second I stepped off this thing… Goddess, I hate the empress. Her need to control every little aspect of everything really kills the fun for me. Half the places we stop I’m stuck here, the other half I’m getting shot at.”

“I’m sorry you’re having to go through that. Hopefully, when we’re done, this’ll be put to an end.”

“That means you’re going to have to kill the empress,” Henuva slurred with a chuckle. “She’s the most protected person alive. And even if you do get to her, her battle prowess is what got her the throne in the first place.”

“Kane’s the strategist. He’s been working on something,” Dax said, noticing the robotic arm on the floor. “Why haven’t you put that on?”

“When I have libations to this level, my cybernetic gets ornery and tries to punch me in the face. I’ve found it safer, and funnier, to disconnect it and my toes. They shot off once and broke a window; it was hilarious!”

“Okay, well, be sure to drink some water and lie on your side,” Dax said, pointing to a trash can. “And you may want to move that to the side of your bed as well.”

“Sir, yessir,” Henuva replied.

Dax shut the door. He returned to the main deck to see Mark maneuvering Junkyard into a well-organized hangar, densely packed with hundreds of ships. Most were fighters; a handful sported more of a luxury look.

“If we’re not the PT Cruiser in a lot full of Ferraris, I don’t know what is,” Mark said.

“It’s not the look of the ship, it’s what’s under the hood,” the Junkyard countered.

“And I’d put my money on this ship over any of those, every day of the week,” Dax added.

“Thank you,” the Junkyard replied.

“Any time. Now, Mark, you, Sandrina and PITA stay here, make sure no funny business is going on. And check on Henuva; he’s very drunk,” Dax ordered. “Dalia, Kane and I will head out there with Ruthnar and see what they’ve got for us.”

“I will keep on my toes,” PITA added from his charger. “Any funny business and I’ll put another shrimp on the barbie.”

“I don’t remember uploading you with an Australian accent,” Mark said.

“You didn’t,” the Junkyard replied. “I did. When we were on Earth, I scanned and downloaded all of the knowledge on your internet. Which is a flawed title. It’s not inside anywhere. It’s global… correction, interplanetary as it’s used on the moon.”

“Because there are people on the moon, Mark,” PITA added. “And the Earth’s not flat.”

“I’m not that loony of a conspiracy theorist,” Mark countered, looking at the ceiling. “And with half the stuff we’ve seen, why would it surprise you that I am one?”

“Okay, let’s get going,” Dax said, turning to Ruthnar.

“Good idea,” Kane said.

“What if I’m curious as to how this plays out?” Ruthnar asked.

He watched Mark, the dog and the ship arguing with one another. Dalia approached him, placed a hand on his shoulder and gently turned him toward the corridor that led to the cargo bay. Dax and Kane followed.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “Knowing them, they’ll still be at it when we get back.”

4

INTERVIEW

Dax stepped out of the ship, holstering the Dal’no sound pistol on his thigh. The rest of the crew picked their weapons from Kane’s crates before moving down the ramp. Ruthnar watched them carefully. A confused expression spread over his scaly features.

“Do you not trust the Ryshy?” he asked.

“We don’t know them; it’d be dumb to trust them,” Kane replied.

“You know me.”

“Yes, and we trust you, which is why we’re not wearing our armor,” Dax replied. “Besides, a gun is kind of like a nest egg. It’s better to have it and not need it, than need it and not have it.”

“That’s not the version I’m familiar with,” Kane chimed in.

As they reached the hangar floor, the strange material underfoot darkened. A path of light started to glow, winding through the parked ships. A second appeared at Tarluth’s ship and met halfway to the hangar’s edge.

“I know which version you’re familiar with.” Dax chuckled. “Once you have kids, you’re kind of forced to clean up your language.”

Dalia double-checked her sound cannon. She let the weapon rest in front of her, ready to be raised in the blink of an eye. She and Sandrina stepped to the front of the group while they followed the path.

“Before we end up in a second location, how sure are you that the Ryshy aren’t going to try and kill us?” Dax asked. “Tylira has branched out and started working with third parties…”

“Which is strange, given how universally xenophobic the Valtakuntera are known for being,” Ruthnar cut in. “But I can assure you they mean you no harm. I know that for a fact. And standing Ryshy orders are to shoot Valtakuntera ships on sight.”

“I thought they were in a series of trade embargoes,” Dalia called back.

“They were,” Tarluth said, their paths converging. “And then, when the Ryshy put a blockade around a world the Valtakuntera desperately wanted, they just destroyed the planet, and the blockade with it.”

“It’s not the first world they’ve done that to in recent memory,” Ruthnar added. “One of their scouts discovered the Bastet home world was healing itself. That drew the eye of the entire empire. Our source informed us that they wanted the Bastet technology left behind, thinking that was the reason for the revitalization of the planet.”

Sandrina froze. Dax noticed her fur starting to prickle out. She slowly turned toward Ruthnar, her eyes welling with tears while she clenched her jaw.

“What are you saying?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“I’m saying we tried to stop it, using the argument there wasn’t a need to strip the world a second time,” Tarluth explained.

A lump formed in Dax’s throat while both men spoke. He glanced from them to Sandrina’s trigger finger that was still pressed against the gun, outside of the trigger well.

“My home world’s been destroyed?” she asked, her words hardly a whisper.

Dax noticed Ruthnar’s shoulders and head drop. Tarluth rubbed his chin before cautiously eyeing Sandrina’s weapon. The Bastet let out a growl and handed it to Dalia.

“There, now you know I won’t shoot you. Tell me what happened to my world!” she screeched.

Dax stepped forward. He offered Sandrina a hand while a pit filled his stomach.

“You don’t need to hear this right now,” he said softly.

She swatted away his offer before baring her claws. She squared up with Tarluth, causing his clones to emerge from his ship. The Ryshy scout held up a hand. They stopped in their tracks.

“You will tell me exactly what happened to my planet, or this deal is off right here and now,” she growled.

“They showed up with three divisions,” Ruthnar explained. “The Ryshy tried to hold them off; they even called the Broken Shield in to help with air support. They outmatched everyone and bombarded the planet for three full days.”

“They weren’t content with just glassing the surface,” Tarluth explained. “They turned as much of the crust as they could to molten slag before leaving. They outnumbered us fifty to one; our forces didn’t stand a chance.”

A pit twisted to life in Dax’s gut at the words. He took a half step back and glanced at Kane, who holstered his weapon and moved toward Sandrina.

“How many Bastet died?” Dalia asked.

“None. We evacuated and sent everyone that’d returned to different Ryshy outposts,” Tarluth explained. “I know it’s no consolation, but no Bastet lives were lost in the fight.”

“Who was your source?” Dax asked.

“Sources,” Tarluth corrected. “And we don’t know. But the intel was credible. Every single one said the exact same thing.”

“Then why weren’t you ready?” Kane asked, slipping an arm around Sandrina.

“Because none of them knew the level of attack. And even if they did, the Ryshy don’t have the forces to spare to pull away from critical areas to support such a defensive without compromising our own network,” Tarluth explained.

“Then hire more mercenaries,” Dalia jumped in.

“You sorely overestimate the strength of the mercenary guild,” Ruthnar chimed in. “Even if every licensed mercenary combined to defend that world, there would be no victory.”

Sandrina quickly turned toward Dalia. The look of terror on her face made Dax’s chest immediately tighten.

“Dal’no’nuuur,” he whispered.

“If they did that to our world. what’s stopping them from doing it to yours?” Sandrina whispered.

Dax noticed the green slightly drain from her face. She swallowed hard while her eyes darted from one side to the other. After a few seconds, she started to nod.

“I can go back with you,” Dax offered.

“How reliable is your network?” Dalia asked, ignoring Dax’s comment.

“It’s reliable enough I’d trust any information that comes through. Why?” Tarluth asked.

“If there was going to be another planetary assault, would you know about it?”

“I would expect that the information would make it to us, yes.”

“Expect?” Dax asked.

“We don’t know who our contacts are. We just know they’re reliable.”

“Fine. As part of the payment for accepting this job, the second you hear anything about Dal’no’nuuur, you bring it to us without a second’s hesitation,” she ordered.

“I’m sorry, I can’t make that deal,” Tarluth said. “I only scout the talent and arrange the meetings.”

Dalia turned to Ruthnar with such a heated gaze, it’d make water boil. Dax took a half step back, along with everyone else around the Dracolich.

“I don’t have the resources the Ryshy do. But rest assured, if I hear anything about your home world, I’ll let you know before going to defend it personally,” he said.

“Thank you,” Dalia replied before looking at Dax. “I love and appreciate your willingness to drop everything and come with me. If this gives us a chance to get the drop on Tylira, we need to take this job first. There are plenty of eyes here that can warn us if something seems off.”

“And once we’re done here, I’ll have the majority of the Broken Shield move into a defensive position around the planet,” Ruthnar offered.

“How much is that going to cost us?” Sandrina asked, her words pointed.

“I don’t relish the idea of worlds being destroyed, let alone those of people I consider friends. We do this at no charge.”

“It doesn’t matter if he did charge his usual rates,” Tarluth chimed in. “After this job, you’ll have a budget large enough to fight God. Now if you don’t mind, my boss is waiting.”

Dax tossed Tarluth a sarcastic look while holding up a finger.

“Just give us a second,” he said before turning back to Sandrina. “Go back to the Junkyard; reach out to every one of your species that you can. Tell them what happened.”

“I can’t,” she countered, glancing at Tarluth.

“We’ll handle this,” Dalia added. “You let your people know what happened. Tell them to go to Dal’no’nuuur. They need a home to regroup to.”

Dax watched the Bastet think through the offer. After a few seconds, she grumbled before nodding.

“Okay,” she whispered.

“I’ll go with her,” Kane added. “I’ll let Nalath and Malcoth know to expect anyone who takes up the offer.”

Ruthnar pulled a device off his belt and handed it to Sandrina.

“That goes to our armorist. I went straight from Bastet to here before being deployed to find you. As such, I haven’t had a chance to tell him. It should come from one of his own. Let him know he is free to leave without any negative impact on his standing with the Broken Shields.”

“I will,” Sandrina said softly.

She started back toward the ship. Kane stopped next to Dax. The firm grip on his wrist was that of a father, relaying the weight of his words.

“I trust you to make this deal. Whatever you do, don’t let this impact your decision,” he said softly.

“My only goal is to do what’s best for our team and the galaxy,” Dax whispered back. “Emotion has nothing to do with it. You make sure she’s okay. I couldn’t imagine how hard it’d be to think you’re getting your home back, only to have it snatched away from you.”

“I will,” he replied before glancing at Dalia. “Both of you be careful.”

“We’ll be fine,” she replied.

Kane released Dax’s arm. He turned and caught up to Sandrina. Ruthnar approached the Dal’no. He took Sandrina’s weapon and double-checked it.

“What are you doing?” Tarluth asked.

Ruthnar slid the weapon in an empty holster on his hip.

“They’re coming here to treat on good faith, despite the fact that you attacked them unprovoked,” Ruthnar explained. “And while I trust you, and know you’re dealing in good faith, despite starting it off like a moron, this is how I show them I have their back.”

“You’d really risk your contract with us over them?”

“Your retainer was used up with all the Broken Shield members who fell defending your failed interest,” Ruthnar explained. “I joined you as a consultant for this as a favor to your boss. Right now, the Junkyard’s retainer still holds liquidity, meaning I’m under their employ right now, not the Ryshy’s.”

“So be it,” Tarluth said. “Let’s go talk to the boss.”

He turned and started his way down the illuminated path to an elevator. Dax moved to the front of his crew. Ruthnar was close behind him with Dalia in the rear. They reached the elevators. Tarluth summoned it and the doors slid open almost immediately.

“Is it just me, or does this setup seem familiar?” Dalia asked.

They all piled into the moving box. Tarluth pressed a button for an upper deck.

“It wouldn’t surprise me,” Tarluth replied. “I’ve heard you’ve spent a lot of time on Tachyon. Is that right?”

“It’s sort of been our home away from home,” Dax replied.

“If continually getting into fights defines home,” Dalia added.

“Shortly after Master Decombres took over, he negotiated a deal for renovations. The Ryshy helped with that deal,” Tarluth explained. “It’s led to a fruitful and beneficial partnership for us both.”

“Makes sense,” Dax said, looking at their reflections through the polished elevator walls. “Your organizations hate the Valtakuntera almost as much as the senate does.”

In the reflection, he noticed Ruthnar’s foot bouncing on the ground. His fingers drummed against his leg while his eyes remained locked on the deck numbers they passed. He made eye contact with Dalia through her reflection. She quickly gave him a nudge with her elbow.

“You good?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Ruthnar replied.

“No, he’s not.” Tarluth chuckled. “He’s not a huge fan of meeting the boss. It puts him on edge.”

“Why would that be?” Dax asked.

The elevator slowed to a stop before letting out a ding. Its doors opened to a small antechamber. Crossing the lobby, Tarluth put his hand against the adjacent door. It scanned his palm. The door opened to a large office with a desk carved crudely out of obsidian but with a finely polished top. A man dressed in fine clothes sat behind the desk, drawing everyone’s attention from the ornate decorations that filled the office.

Dax looked from the boss, back to his exact copy in Ruthnar.

“Hello, Queloth,” Ruthnar said softly.

“It’s good to see you brother.” Queloth nodded from behind the desk before looking at Dax. “And it’s good to see you again.”

“Again?” Dax asked.

5

LEAK

“We’ve never met you before,” Dalia said.

“I can’t remember if you were there, but I for sure remember you,” Queloth countered, pointing at Dax. “Where’s the kid?”

“You mean Mark?” Dax asked. “He’s not a kid anymore.”

“He got into an argument with the old man about not having to listen to him because he was in a tank,” Queloth replied.

“Don’t let Kane hear you call him old,” Dalia muttered.

“You impersonated me again?” Ruthnar snarled.

Dax noticed his grip on the weapon tighten. He put his hand on the Dracolich’s shoulder. His eyes darted to Tarluth while he played in his mind how he’d grab one of his guns with his free hands.

“You gave Broken Shield secrets and weapons to someone who isn’t part of the organization,” Dax said before looking at Ruthnar. “He was the one I paid our deposit to. How do you know about it?”

“I get reports sent to my personal data pad. I thought you’d paid one of our members who’s qualified to bring on new clients,” Ruthnar replied before looking back at his brother. “You gave away Broken Shield weapons?!”

“The family dysfunction in this galaxy is absurd,” Dalia muttered. “Makes me glad I was born an only child.”

“My brother and I get along,” Dax countered.

“An exception, not the rule,” Dalia replied.

Dax turned back to Ruthnar’s brother.

“Your well-dressed, more brains than brawn here gave us the initial rundown of what you’re looking to do. I’ve got friends in the senate, on the Alcazar council itself. I’m sure if I asked them, they’d be more than happy to initiate you into the senate.”

“I wish that were the case,” Queloth replied. “I have friends there too. Unfortunately, in order to be accepted, a delegation must be present for that process to begin. The Death Squads, led by Tylira Voskana, keep finding out when we send delegates, intercept them and space the crew.”

Dax shifted his weight to one side. He turned toward Tarluth before motioning at the door.

“Would you kindly give us a little privacy?”

“I don’t take orders from you,” Tarluth replied in a matter-of-fact tone.

“No, but if you don’t, we’ll make you leave,” Dax countered, motioning toward Dalia and himself. “And you’ve seen what we did to your clones. So, if you would…”

Dax extended his arm toward the door once more. Tarluth looked at Queloth, who offered a reassuring nod.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “They try anything, I’ll be right outside.”

“We may not get along, but I’m not going to murder my brother,” Ruthnar countered. “Now get out of here, because you and I don’t share that bond.”

“Ruthnar,” Queloth scolded.

“Your man is tactically annoying and doesn’t think critically when approaching a situation,” Ruthnar explained. “He’s ‘beat up first, ask questions never’, and Dad taught you better than to work with people like that.”

“I’ve seen your Broken Shield operate; Mother would’ve been disappointed in your choice of allies,” Queloth sneered.

“Do I need to put both of you in opposite corners?” Dax asked, folding his arms. “Because this is time-out behavior. If you two can’t get along, I’m going to start putting noses in corners. Do I make myself clear?”

Dax noticed a grin tug at the corner of Dalia’s lips, accompanied by a shudder and a wave of goosebumps. The Dracolich brothers fell silent. Dax looked at both men with pursed lips and his brow raised for several moments.

“You’re right,” Ruthnar grumbled, breaking the silence.

Dax shot Queloth a stern look.

“You are good,” he sneered.

He motioned to the other side of his desk. Three seats emerged from the floor. Dax approached the center seat and slid onto it. Dalia walked around the back of the desk. She leaned over, looking under it while getting a weird look from Queloth.

“No gun,” she said. “We’re clear.”

She walked back around and took a seat at Dax’s right hand. Ruthnar remained standing between them, his gun still at the ready.

“Are you serious?” Dax asked, looking at the mercenary leader.

“He’s a slippery one that always has a trick up his sleeve,” Ruthnar replied. “He’s not half the fighter I am, but he’s smarter than all of us combined, and even more cunning to boot.”

“I’m not that conniving,” Queloth explained. “Although I have, from time to time, been known to impersonate my brother, it’s never been for malevolent reasons. Typically only to learn more about new dangerous allies he may have, or to conduct shenanigans.”

“And those shenanigans took three months for my scales to grow back,” Ruthnar snarled. “Not to mention the incident with Stacy.”

“Let me guess, did her mom have it goin’ on?” Dax asked.

“Yes, but that’s not pertinent,” Ruthnar growled.

“I admit my approach to the Stacy situation was wrong, although you’ve got to admit, you’re happy you dodged that bullet,” Queloth protested.

“Did you?” Dax asked.

He looked up at Ruthnar. The Dracolich reluctantly nodded.

“How’d you know her mom was hot?” Dalia whispered.

“Oh, there’s a unique thing about all Stacys,” Dax replied with a wave of his hand. “Every mom has got it goin’ on. Now, if we’re done with the Parent Trap drama, we need to address the larger issue in the room.”

“Which is?” Queloth asked.

“You’ve got yourself a leak,” Dalia chimed in.

“I’ve figured that out already and ran in-depth investigations on every single person that was privy to that information. Everything came back clean.”

“Did that include your terrible recruiter?” Dalia asked.

“He came back clean. He didn’t tell anyone.”

Ruthnar slowly slid into his seat. A pleased look spread across his features.

“He may not have, but each one of his cerebrally compromised clones has technology to compensate,” Dax said. “Would I be right in guessing that he’s got some hardware in his head that helps him better control his clones?”

Queloth’s jaw went slack. He nodded slowly at the question. Dalia turned toward Dax; excitement bubbled in his gut from piecing the puzzle together.

“Why hack a clone and not Tarluth himself?” Dalia asked.

“He’d be able to feel it,” Dax replied.

He pulled up his sleeve, showing the bite scar.

“I could feel it when that infected Jarog was in my head. Maybe when he thinks, the same message is cycled through the others using the link. By hacking one of the clones; ,” Dax explained, “the Valtakuntera siphon any useful data that he learns, and he doesn’t even know he’s the leak.”

“That’s simple: we kill the clones, remove the implants and the leak is plugged,” Queloth said.

“You can’t do that,” Dax countered.

“Yeah,” Dalia replied. “The Valtakuntera already knows we’re involved and where we are. If we cut off their stream of data, they’ll know he’s compromised and Tylira will come straight here to finish the job.”

“You’re thinking of formulating two plans. One real, one fake, then go over the fake plan in front of Tarluth while conducting the other simultaneously in secret, aren’t you?” Ruthnar asked.

“Exactly,” Dax replied, pivoting back toward Queloth.

The Dracolich scoffed. He readjusted himself in his seat. His eyes blinked rapidly while his mouth opened and shut, trying to form words that would never come.

“Holy crap!” Ruthnar chuckled. “He’s speechless. For once in his life, he’s speechless!”

“It’s terrifying that none of my people, let alone myself, never thought of that,” Queloth whispered. “We haven’t even officially hired you and you’re already well worth the money we’re going to spend.”

“We never said we’d take the job,” Dax interjected.

“You’re here; we’ll pay you well enough to keep the Broken Shields on your side for the rest of your lives, and it’ll give you an opportunity to sneak attack Tylira and put an end to the thorn in your side, and the knife in Mark’s face.”

“Talk about needlessly aggressive,” Dalia huffed.

“I didn’t say we wouldn’t take it, just that we haven’t taken it yet,” Dax added.

“So then, will you take the job?” Queloth asked.

“Absolutely we will. First things first, we need a map of your entire operation and what you know about Valtakuntera space.”

With a flick of his finger, Queloth summoned a hologram of the galaxy. Only a quarter of it was mapped. A line split right down the center with one side highlighted blue, the other side highlighted red, and flecks of silver dotted evenly throughout. In the center of the red was the largest silver dot.

“I take it you’re blue?” Dax asked.

Queloth nodded.

“That’d make Valtakuntera red. What’s the silver?” Dalia asked.

“Senate systems. There’re not many, but they can still pack a punch.”

“Okay, and where have you sent your previous delegates?” Dax asked.

With another flick of the wrist, a dozen purple lines appeared, all broken, cut off at different intervals into Valtakuntera space.

“These are the sections of space that have the least number of Valtukta patrols,” Queloth explained. “Figured it’d be our best choice.”

“Just because it’s not patrolled by ships doesn’t mean it’s not controlled by gravity mines,” Dax countered. “Chances are, even if the ship isn’t captured or escapes from the local Death Squads, they’ll get ripped apart by hidden mines, seeded throughout this area.”

“How would you know that?” Queloth asked.

“We’ve navigated the fields before,” Dalia replied.

“Let’s take a page out of Merry and Pippin’s book,” Dax muttered, staring intently at the map. “Where’s the highest concentration of Valtakuntera ships?”

“That would be here, in the Maze,” Queloth said.

He motioned to a series of nebulae near the middle.

“Who are Merry and Pippin?” Ruthnar asked.

“Two very wise men who have tales written about them on my world,” Dax replied before pointing at the line. “That’s where we go. You send a ship of delegates there. They can use the clouds to scramble radar that could pick them up. The Junkyard will monitor from a safe distance and will act as an early warning detection system.”

“Warnings won’t help if they’re boarded,” Queloth interjected.

“That’s why half of our crew will be on the ship with the delegates, disguised as security. If they’re boarded, we can help fight them off, get useful intel, and if we’re lucky, be brought before the empress and we can end it all in one swell foop.”

“Will your crew go for it?” Queloth asked.

“Absolutely,” Dalia replied. “And we can use the original course of your previous failed attempts as our fake plan. Maybe even take an out of commission ship, load it with explosives and wait for the Valtakuntera to get close enough, then boom. You lose a ship but take out a whole lot of them.”

“I have some questions about this plan. Why take such a risk when we could just meet the Alcazar at Tachyon? It’s neutral. The Valtakuntera have no presence there, and the Ryshy have some positive relationships with them.”

“Because that place is an affront to every good and decent law the Alcazar swear to uphold,” Dalia explained.

“Yeah, they’d shut it down in a heartbeat, and Decombres would go into open war with them over it. That would compromise the tenuous three-way balance of power in the wrong direction and the Valtakuntera would swoop right in to take over,” Dax explained.

“Yes, we don’t want that,” Queloth said.

“What other questions do you have, Ruthnar?” Dax asked.

“You said you wanted to take a page out of Merry and Pippin’s book. What page would that be?” Ruthnar asked.

“Oh, that’s easy,” Dax replied, leaning back in his chair. “The closer we are to danger, the further we are from harm.”

6

PLAN

Queloth’s claws drummed against the desktop. Dax watched his eyes narrow as he looked at the display. The Dracolich’s lips curled back in a frustrated snarl before he shook his head.

“You do make a strong case and a good theory,” he huffed. “I can see why your team is so well regarded. But I’m not willing to risk the lives of another group of delegates without proof.”

“Then we get scientific up in here and do a control test,” Dax said, pointing upward. “Everyone who had knowledge of the previous trips. You let them know that another group is being sent out. But you do it privately.”

Dax sat back in his chair, pride welling up inside him. Awkward silence filled the room while everyone turned their attention to him, confusion contorting their faces.

“Seriously?” he asked. “None of you know where I’m going with this?”

“I’m afraid not,” Queloth replied.

“Yeah, what are you suggesting?” Dalia whispered.

“I mean, I get why you don’t know where I’m going, sweetie. Your people had more important things to worry about than deception until recently,” Dax said before looking at the brothers. “But you two? I mean, how did the rest of this galaxy get so advanced, and my species has barely made it to our moon?”

“Every race thinks differently; we clearly don’t think like humans,” Ruthnar replied.

“I’m sure if a Bastet or a Valtukta were in here, they’d know where I was going with this,” Dax grunted. “Fine, this is what you do. You tell each person a different location privately. You send a team to observe and report. Then, whenever the Valtakuntera shows up, you’ll know who your leak is by location.”

“Then if Queloth keeps Tarluth by his side after relaying a wrong location and he doesn’t reach out to anyone, we’d know the neural link is the reason,” Dalia added, continuing to piece everything together.

“Yes, and that Elon Musk is to blame,” Dax added.

“Elon Musk?” Ruthnar asked. “Who is he?”

“No one; it was supposed to be a joke, but I realized a little too late that the only person who would get it is currently in the ship, likely making out with his robotic girlfriend.”

Queloth let out a frustrated sigh. He slinked back into his chair before rubbing his forehead.

“There is a problem in this plan. The Valtakuntera have never made a move on anything but the delegates. This only works if we throw a ridiculous number of resources at it,” he said. “Not to mention the logistical nightmare it’ll be trying to get the resources for a mission like this at such short notice.”

“How many delegations do you have left?” Ruthnar asked.

“Including this ship? Three,” he replied. “The other two have escorts just like this one in different places around the Valtkuntera controlled line.”

“Okay, do they shoot the ship out of the sky?” Dalia asked.

“No, they capture it. We don’t know what they do with the crew.”

Dax stood up. He tried to push back on his chair, only to nearly fall forward from its connection to the ground. Catching himself on the desk, he glanced back at the chair before shrugging.

“Should’ve remembered that,” he muttered. “Then send all three delegates. We’ll be in the ship you tell Tarluth about, then you increase the escorts for the other vessels to be enough so that, if we’re wrong, it’ll make the Valtakuntera think twice about attacking.”

“Won’t the lack of escort on your ship raise some alarms?” Ruthnar asked.

“Not if it’s as big of a logistical nightmare as Queloth said it’d be,” Dalia replied. “We can have a team on the ship to take care of any boarding parties and a team in the Junkyard for backup and to run scans.”

Dax turned to Ruthnar; he leaned against the desk. Queloth let out a displeased clearing of his throat. Dax stood back up.

“You want to get some field time and possibly take out some frustration on a Valtukta or ten?”

“You want me to be a part of the crew?” Ruthnar asked. “Why would you do that?”

“Because from the way you talked about your last offensive against them, you probably lost a lot of men. I’m assuming you’d want a chance at a little payback without further endangering the Broken Shields.”

“And who knows. If everything goes well, you could have a new, full-time client in the form of the galactic senate,” Dalia added.

Dax pointed at his Battle Bonded in agreement. Ruthnar looked at his brother, then back at Dax, who watched, hope and excitement bubbling just under the surface.

“I’m in,” Ruthnar replied.

“Good, I’m looking forward to seeing how you fight an enemy instead of a friendly challenger.”

“That fight was anything but friendly,” Ruthnar countered. “If you couldn’t heal like you do, you would’ve been dead several times over. And might I point out, I was the winner of that fight. I just let you pass as a reward for your tenacity.”

“Keep telling yourself that. I had you right where I wanted you the whole time,” Dax argued.

“Was that why he was able to cut into your arm and leg so horribly?” Dalia chimed in with a teasing tone. “So you could get him where you wanted him?”

“Precisely,” Dax replied.

“Keep telling yourself that.” She chuckled before standing up as well.

“I’ll get the process started,” Queloth said.

He switched the galactic map to a list of contacts in the massive ship.

“You all get prepared, update your crew, and I’ll let you know when we’re ready to move out. I will warn you: the heads of my security teams are Dracolichs like Ruthnar and me. They are very stubborn and won’t like the idea of someone coming in to do their jobs for them.”

“It’s a good thing we’re not doing their jobs for them,” Dax said.

He started to the door with Dalia close behind. About halfway there, Ruthnar got up and jogged after them to join the group.

“And that I have experience fighting one of your kind,” Ruthnar retorted

The door hissed open. Tarluth stood across the lobby, next to an open elevator door. One arm crossed his chest, holding his side. The other was propped up against his forearm while a holographic game flickered from a small data pad over his hand. With a flick of his thumb, Dax noticed he lined up three diamond shapes. They vanished, causing the rest of the block of shapes to fall.

“Are you playing Candy Crush?” Dax asked.

“What is that?” Tarluth asked, quickly putting the pad away.

“It’s just a game that’s somehow survived over a century on my world. You can keep playing. You’ve got no judgment here.”

They stepped into the elevator. Dax glanced at Dalia to see her hold her fingers close together and mouth ‘A little.’ Tarluth joined them in the box and pressed the button for the hangar and they started to descend.

An awkward silence fell across the group. Ruthnar stood behind his brother’s right hand. He eyed the large, gray man up and down with enough of a judgmental expression that it made Dax feel uncomfortable.

“You know, it’s supposed to help maintain brain functionality into one’s twilight years,” Tarluth finally announced, breaking the awkward silence.

Dalia’s cheek twitched as she fought a smirk. Dax gave her a tap with his elbow before shaking his head.

“I’ve heard that,” Dax replied. “A lot of people on Earth do it for the same reason.”

Tarluth started to nod. The elevator doors opened. He put his arm in the doorway while stepping to the side to give them room to pass. Dax and Dalia stepped out first. Tarluth stopped Ruthnar.

“What’d your brother have to say?” he asked.

“Queloth will update you shortly,” Ruthnar replied. “Unlike him, I don’t like impersonating my twin. I find it quite old hat.”

With that the Dracolich stepped out of the elevators. They started to follow their path back to the Junkyard.

“Is he still looking?” Dax asked.

Dalia turned around. She smiled and waved before facing forward once more.

“Yep, but he doesn’t seem suspicious about anything,” she replied.

“I don’t know why he would be; this is how my brother always conducts business,” Ruthnar added, handing Dax his gun back.

“Aside from the whole impersonating you and striking a deal with us behind your back, he doesn’t seem that terrible,” Dax said.

He took his weapon and holstered it.

“He told me several of my dates growing up were called off, then went on them as me,” Ruthnar explained.

“That’s a criminal act,” Dax grimaced.

“Did they ever find out?” Dalia asked.

“He manipulated the story so I wouldn’t be believed. He’d also dress up in my clothes, break things in the house or at school, and then change back, leaving me to take the punishment.”

“That’s borderline psychotic,” Dax added.

“And then one time, when we were both working the same job for a real crap employer we both hated,” Ruthnar paused for a moment, fighting back a snicker, “he hid dead shellfish in the base of his desk seat and the curtain rod in his office. He created and stuffed a false bottom in his desk and topped it off by disabling the air conditioning during the summer.”

“Did he have to hit so many places?” Dalia asked.

“Yeah, that way, if the boss found one spot and cleaned it out, the stink would still remain and gradually drive him insane.”

“What ended up happening?” Dax asked.

“I got fired. The severance package was large enough for me to start the Broken Shields, though,” Ruthnar replied.

Dax and Dalia watched him trail off as if putting the pieces together for the first time. His eyes darted from one side to the other while his legs moved on autopilot.

“What about those girls?” Dax asked.

“They were less than loyal to every other guy they dated while we were in school,” he muttered.

“And the breaking things?” Dalia asked.

“No, that was just him being a jerk… Was he impersonating me for my benefit?” Ruthnar asked, his voice cracking.

“It got us into business together. I have to say that I haven’t hated it,” Dax chimed back in.

“Me either,” Ruthnar replied.

“Maybe he’s not as bad as you think?” Dalia asked.

“The shellfish prank was pretty good.” Dax chuckled. “I mean, in my teens after I was fired without cause from a job, I put surströmming in the ceiling tile at the end of my shift before the weekend.”

They reached the Junkyard. Entering the cargo bay, Dax was the first to ascend the main deck ladder.

“What’s surströmming?” Dalia asked.

“It’s a pickled fish that’s aged so much the cans are sometimes considered explosives, so they’re not allowed on airplanes,” Dax replied. “And they smell like an outhouse at Woodstock. A smell, by the way, that seeps into everything, even concrete. A few seconds of exposure can take six months to get rid of.”

“How long was the can in the ceiling?” Ruthnar asked.

Dax made it to the main deck. He reached down and helped Dalia and Ruthnar up.

“Three days.”

“Ewww,” Dalia grumbled.

“Yeah, I might be someone’s villain origin story,” Dax chuckled.

“I do have to ask. That game Tarluth was playing, does it really help the mind like he says?” Ruthnar asked.

“No.” Dax shook his head. “They just say that to get you to buy the game. Then you get addicted to it, throw way too much money into it, and next thing you know, it’s been five years, you haven’t missed a day, caused a fight at one wedding, a funeral, and a kid’s birthday party, and are out several thousand dollars.”

“Are you talking about Candy Crush?” Mark shouted from the main deck. “Because it sounds like you’re talking about Candy Crush.”

“Yes,” Dax replied.

“Be honest, are you talking from experience?” Mark asked.

“I’m going to plead the fifth on that one,” Dax replied.

“No shame. My mom grounded me for a month because I dropped almost a grand in one day on those stupid power-ups.”

7

EL MATADOR

Dax leapt backward. Claws dyed crimson narrowly missed his shirt as the black-scaled Dracolich swung at him, letting his arm cross his body. The rubber of his boots gripped the steel floor and launched him forward. One hand pushed on the security guard’s elbow as he pushed on the overextended arm.

With all his might, Dax shoved his opponent backward. With his free elbow, he hammered the guard’s snout with all his might. Each impact sent abrasive waves of pain across his elbow and forearm.

Unlike his fight with Ruthnar, each blow injured the Dracolich. The guard dug his claws into the floor and pivoted. Dax’s momentum flung him forward, past his opponent. He instinctively ducked. A clawed foot swiped where his head once was.

Dax spun. He balled up his fist and, with all his strength, drove his hand into the upper inner thigh of the Dracolich. A roar left his snout. His knee buckled the second any weight went onto the leg while he held his thigh.

“What was that?” he snarled.

“It’s called a charley horse,” Dax replied. “With how tough your skin is, I’m not surprised you’ve never had your muscle spasm like that. Hurts, doesn’t it?”

With a low growl he lunged at Dax, swinging his claws at the professor. Another step to the side and thrust of his fist sent his knuckles squarely between the guard’s bicep and humerus bone. His arm went limp, accompanied by another squeal.

“Don’t worry, it’s not permanent,” Dax said, stepping away from his opponent. “It’ll stop hurting in about twenty minutes. Do you yield, or do I need to disable your other two limbs?”

The Dracolich looked at the ground and snarled. A hint of shame spread across his face.

“I yield,” he growled.

Spectators from the roaring crowd around him rushed out. They grabbed the security guard and pulled him out of the ring. A series of five dings rang out. Dax turned to the rest of the crew-created open space.

Kane was on the ground with a Dracolich in a perfectly executed armbar. With the extra length on his snout, the scaled fighter’s head was twisted at an abnormal angle. Kane shouted for him to tap out before either his arm was broken or he passed out. The guard refused.

With a twist, the security guard set his other arm free. He swung his claws at Kane’s leg. In the blink of an eye, Dax was by his teammate’s side. He yanked the free arm back, pinning it down while the pressure along the guard’s snout tightened.

The guard continued to struggle. It was useless against the combined strength of both humans. After a few seconds, his eyes rolled back and his body fell limp. Kane quickly released his opponent and put a hand next to his nose.

“Still breathing,” he muttered.

A single bell sounded while onlookers pulled the unconscious Dracolich out of the ring.

“How’d you get your guy?” Kane asked.

“Charley horse and dead arm,” Dax replied. “How are the others doing?”

Mark flew through the air a few yards behind them. He hit the ground with a pained thud before clambering to his feet. His left eye was swollen nearly shut and his jumpsuit was in tatters.

“A little help here, guys,” he whimpered.

Out of seemingly nowhere, a Jarog appeared in front of him. She moved blindingly fast, delivering two punches to Mark’s face almost faster than he could react. When the young man tried to counter, the fronds on the side of her head danced, freezing him in place.

Memories of the infected flashed through Dax’s mind. The Jarog’s taunting while he lost control of his own body. Smells of rotting flesh and the squelching from underfoot sent a chill down his spine, freezing him in place.

The brawl around him slowed to a near stop. Panic tightened its icy grip around his mind. He swallowed hard, screaming orders for his body to move. It refused as if the infected Jarog were stopping him.

He could hear Kane shouting orders. They were muffled, muted as if under water. The soldier moved away from Dax while a rock-hard hand cracked into his cheek. Dax’s head whipped to one side. The impact snapped his attention back to the present. Staggering backward, he rubbed his cheek, seeing a Galio use his momentum to spin kick at Kane.

“I got this one,” Kane barked. “You help Mark.”

Kane lowered his body. Catching the Galio’s leg, he drove his shoulder into the guard’s groin, lifted him into the air then slammed him onto the ground before bringing the fight to a grappling match.

“Careful, he’s got reach,” Dax warned.

“And I’ve got flexibility,” Kane countered.

Dax quickly turned his attention to the youngest of their team. The Jarog continued to beat him, using her low-level psychic abilities to freeze him just before he landed a blow.

Mark dropped to his knees. His words came out little more than mumbles through his rapidly swelling jaw. Dax pushed himself as fast as he could. Before the Jarog could knock Mark out, Dax grabbed her by the extended fronds on her head.

The Jarog’s eyes widened. Her body convulsed. A howl of agony erupted from her throat before she fell unconscious to the ground. Mark offered Dax a crooked smile and a weak thumbs-up before falling to the ground himself.

Members of the crowd rushed out and pulled both combatants out of the ring. A bell tolled for the Jarog while three cannons blasted for Mark. Dax turned back to the fight where Kane managed to squirm out of a grapple with his opponent.

Sandrina slashed her claws at a Perune while a Galio kicked her in the side. She let out a hiss and returned with a kick of her own. She landed it, but a third Strudian guard knocked her behind the knee with one fist while driving a second into her ribs.

Rushing toward her, Dax slid between her and the Perune. A leathery open palm pressed itself into his chest. Every muscle involuntarily tightened. His heart skipped a beat while the air was ripped from his lungs. Dax couldn’t let out a single gasp while a white-hot electric pain surged through his ribcage.

Fighting the involuntary contractions, he extended his hand, touching one of the four limbs of the Strudian. He let out a screech while his body seized up as well. Dax locked his widened eyes with the four-armed guard. Rage and agony filled his opponent’s face.

The hand left his chest. Dax’s muscles relaxed while the burning nerve pain echoed through his body. The Strudian hit the ground accompanied by a bell. Dax looked up at the baffled Perune. He forced a smirk, trying to get to his feet but unable to move.

“Is that all you got?” he taunted.

Sandrina broke away from the group, engaging the Galio one-on-one.

“You’re tougher than most,” the eel-like alien snarled.

“That’s what your mom said last night,” Dax wheezed.

Baring a mouth full of teeth, the guard hissed. Striking at Dax, he bit down where his neck met his shoulder. The needles dug deep into his skin, sending an icy wave of pain through him.

“Hey, no biting!” Dax shouted.

Using what little strength he could muster; he jammed one of his thumbs into the Perune’s eye. The eel detached from him, screaming and thrashing in the process.

“I wasn’t going to use this because it’s unsportsmanlike,” Dax muttered.

He forced himself to his feet. His muscles started to respond from the electrocution.

“But then you bit me. That takes all manner of sportsmanship right off the table.”

He took a half step forward. With all his strength, he drove the toe of his boot directly between the Perune’s legs. The alien’s feet lifted three inches off the ground. A sharp whimper left the eel’s lips while half the crowd fell silent, and the other half let out a sympathetic ooooo.

Two bells rang, followed by three cannons. Dax turned to Sandrina to see her unconscious on the ground, accompanied by the Galio. Dalia slid by. She held a Tardig by the snout as it drove her backward.

“Any idea on how to bring this thing down?” she shouted.

Dropping to one knee, Dalia pulled its weight forward, dragging the Tardig to the ground. She delivered a few devastating blows to his head. They did nothing against the obscenely durable guard.

“Not without killing him and not without a weapon,” Dax replied.

A bell rang out. Kane rushed past Dax, pointing at him.

“I’ll help her; you think of something.”

He jumped in to fight. One of the Tardig’s arms reached up, caught him by the chest and slammed him into the ground.

“Never mind,” he wheezed.

Three cannon sounds rang out. Cheering spectators rushed out and pulled the former combatants out of the ring. With only two fighters left and a score dangerously close to being tied, Dax looked around the ring while Dalia did her best to fight the giant.

His gaze fell on one of the spectators. A cloak draped over one shoulder bounced with each jump. He smirked and rushed to the ring’s edge. Grabbing the cloth, he yanked, ripping it free from the man.

“Sorry, I need to borrow this. I promise it’ll be worth it,” Dax said.

A heavy thud drew Dax’s attention. Dalia slid across the metal floor, stopping at Dax’s feet before falling limp.

“I don’t think I took him,” she groaned.

She fell limp, and was drawn off the battlefield. Three cannons rang out. The Tardig turned his attention toward Dax. A prickle of fear stabbed at the back of his mind. He took several steps to his left. Only a few people were in the crowd behind him. He looked at his blood-soaked shirt. The bite wounds were already healed. With a crack of his neck, he whipped the cloak into the air and held it in front of him.

“I call this, El Matador!” he shouted.

Waving the cloak, his eyes never left the Tardig. A snort erupted from the giant’s nostrils. He dug at the ground while glaring at Dax.

“That’s right, come here, you big, dumb bull,” he snarled.

With another whip of the cloak, Dax provoked the Tardig into charging. The massive alien lumbered at him as fast as it could before lowering his head for a kill crush. Every muscle in Dax’s legs tightened. He fought his instinct to dodge out of the way, screaming at himself to hold. The skull as large as his body continued to barrel toward him.

At the last possible second, he whipped the cloak. The coiled energy bound in his legs let loose, launching him out of the way. With an unnatural twist of his body, Dax managed to dodge the Tardig by less than an inch. His momentum carried him past the professor at full speed.

What was left of the crowd scattered. With a meaty, metallic clang, the Tardig ran full force into the arena wall, denting it. A wheeze left the multi-armed alien before he slowly slid to the ground, unmoving.

Two bells rang out. Dax wiped the sweat that’d accumulated on his brow with his sleeve. He walked over to the man he’d taken the cloak from and returned it. Panting, he walked into the center of the ring, looking at the crowd. They stood in silence, holding their breaths while watching him closely. Dax extended his arms out to either side while slowly rotating to look at his spectators.

“Are you not entertained?” he shouted. “Is this not why you are here?”

The room erupted in cheers, giving Dax a surge of adrenaline at the sound.

8

COORDINATE

Dax walked through the medical bay. The fighters were being treated in unique bays specific to their species. At the back of the room stood the general treatment center where his team was being looked at. A Perune, sitting in a bed with a large pack of ice between his legs and a strange mechanical arm shining a light in his bloodshot eye, pointed at Dax.

“You almost blinded me,” he hissed. “And I’m fairly certain I can’t have any more children now.”

Dax pointed to his torn shirt soaked in blood.

“You tried to bite my head off after attempting to stop my heart with enough electricity to drop a Tardig. You’re lucky I held back,” he replied.

“You held back?” the Perune whimpered.

Dax held up his pinky.

“If I wanted to, I could’ve dug my weakest finger into your brain and scrambled it,” he explained. “But this was supposed to be a fight to submission, exhaustion or knockout, not death. So, I held back. If you’d rather, I’d be more than happy to show you what I can really do.”

“No, no, that won’t be necessary,” the Perune replied, slumping back in his bed.

Dax pressed forward, entering the section with his team. His first look was at Dalia. Making his way over to her, he took her hand, looking at a stitched-up cut above her eye.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’ve had sparring matches that were worse,” she replied.

“Wait, since the Tardig beat her, does that mean he’s her new Battle Bonded?” Mark asked. “Has Dax been replaced? Are we going to have some more muscle on the Junkyard?”

Dax turned toward the young man; his bruises were already healing, leaving his face a shade of yellow. Both eyes were still mostly swollen shut, leaving small slits for him to look through.

“You know, if you wanted a costume, we could’ve done something that’s a little less makeup and a little more prosthetics,” Dax taunted.

Mark let out a sarcastic laugh before pointing at his head.

“This ain’t makeup. Stop trying to deflect and answer the question.”

“Being Battle Bonded is a singular event. If it weren’t, then women would be getting attacked on a daily basis to be stolen from their spouses,” Dalia explained. “Besides, this wasn’t a fight to the death…”

She paused, inspecting the blood on Dax’s shirt. He felt a squeeze on his hand.

“At least it wasn’t supposed to be. Are you okay?”

“It was the Perune,” Dax replied.

With his free hand, he pulled the shirt down, showing he’d already healed.

“You should’ve seen the air that eel man got when Dax kicked him.” Kane chuckled from his bed.

The older team member lay on his stomach. His shirt was off, showing a series of nasty bruises and broken blood vessels stretching across his back. A machine shot beams of light and low purring sounds into his injuries while Sandrina sat next to him, holding his hand.

“He could’ve kicked the guy through a field goal,” Kane continued.

He tried to look behind him before snapping back forward and letting out a groan.

“Don’t move,” Sandrina scolded. “You’ll take longer to heal.”

“How many broken bones?” Dax asked.

“Nothing I can’t fight through,” Kane explained.

“Two separated ribs and a fractured vertebra,” Sandrina replied.

“How long until he recovers?” Dax asked.

“I’m right here, I can answer your questions,” Kane jumped in.

“Yes, but you wouldn’t answer them honestly,” Dalia countered.

“With his healing factor and this quite impressive technology, I would say a few hours, maybe a day, tops,” Sandrina replied.

“Okay, then you’re staying put, Kane. Sandrina, you can stay with him.”

“Come on, Dax, it’s not like I have a snapped neck. I can still move,” Kane snarled.

“Yes, but one wrong hit to that damaged vertebra and you’re a paraplegic. We need you on your feet. So, take it easy until you’re back to one hundred percent, otherwise I’ll ask that they sedate you until you’re completely back.”

Kane grumbled. Dax looked back at the already less-yellow Mark.

“You know what would’ve been really useful in there? An android with a metal body that could’ve taken a punch.”

“Yes, but as she pointed out, the Tardig had enough power to damage her body, and unlike us, she can’t heal,” Mark countered. “So she elected to stay with the ship to keep our guest and pyromaniac company to make sure they didn’t do anything stupid.”

“Fair enough,” Dax turned back toward Dalia. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“That was a fun fight. I’m more than okay,” she replied with a soft smile. “I think it’s sweet that you’re so worried about me, but I don’t even feel the cut anymore.”

“It looks like with even an incomplete crew, Ruthnar’s stories about your abilities aren’t exaggerated,” the black-scaled Dracolich said, entering the room. “I must say, I’m impressed. It’s been a long time since someone’s hit me, and I’ve felt it, let alone had limbs put to sleep.”

“Speaking from experience from being on the receiving end of Ruthnar’s claws, I was motivated not to end up on the receiving end of those again,” Dax replied. “How’s your Tardig?”

“Yarith will be fine. He’s got a thick skull. From what I can tell, you gave him a minor headache. I was thinking he’d be our ace up the sleeve. I’m both surprised and impressed you found a way to take him down.”

“Thank you,” Dax replied, staying by Dalia’s side. “If you don’t mind, where’s Ruthnar?”

“He’s being briefed on the ship. My right hand is giving him maps, codes and protocols for this vessel and the mission we’re on. He’ll relay that information to you once you all have recovered,” the commander explained. “I’m glad to see you heal quickly. It won’t delay our launch.”

“It’s from the milk,” Mark chimed in. “It gives us strong bones.”

“And here I thought from the rumors, Valtakuntera experiments are what did it,” the commander replied.

“The milk helped,” Mark shrugged.

“Combat readiness,” Kane called back. “What’s chain of command?”

The commander put his hands behind his back and started walking around the room, inspecting each of the crew members.

“In a non-combat situation, your input is welcome, but my say is final,” he explained. “In a combat situation, unless the security personnel are on their way to save a life, or I am present with orders, you’ve got authority to command my people. There is to be no insubordination or questioning of your tactics and methods. And as most of this ship’s security just watched what you were able to do with our most skilled fighters, I don’t think they’ll be inclined to disobey a direct order from you.”

“That’s good to know,” Kane replied.

The commander folded his hands in front of him before looking at Dalia.

“I’ve never seen someone like you. Not many races can handle a full-blown charge from a Tardig and survive, let alone continue fighting. Are any of your people looking for work?”

“My people are a tough race,” she replied. “But right now, they’re fighting being nearly wiped out. It won’t be for several more generations that we’ll be able to join the galaxy en mass.”

“Even then, it’ll probably only happen if the Valtakuntera falls,” Mark chimed in.

“Which is why this mission is so important,” the commander replied. “We won’t be able to have the support fleet that the decoys will have. If we get hit, our fighters won’t be able to hold them off and it will turn into a boarding fight.”

“And if the Junkyard and I engage before the Death Squad boards, we may lose the opportunity to take down Tylira,” Mark added.

“There’s no guarantee she’ll show up,” Dax countered. “It’ll be a bonus if she does, but our main objective is to ensure the delegation gets to the Alcazar safely.”

“Who’s Tylira?” the commander asked.

“The single nastiest Valtukta in the galaxy,” Kane said from his bed.

“She’s taken on our entire team more than once and come out on top,” Sandrina added.

“Stabbed me in the face,” Mark said, pointing at his cybernetic eye.

“And she took the hand of one of our close friends,” Dalia added.

“Long story short, if your men run into her, their only order is to fall back and seal every bulkhead between themselves and her,” Dax explained. “At that point, they wait for us to engage or get the delegation to escape pods and blow the ship’s core.”

“Isn’t that a little excessive?” the commander asked. “A lot of people will needlessly die.”

“No,” Kane jumped in. “That’s being lenient. I’d say just blow the core immediately. Use the distraction to get the other delegates to the Alcazar.”

“That means you’d die too.”

“If my death means Tylira won’t escape to cause more harm to this galaxy, I’d be okay with that,” Kane said. “And I’m sure the other guys would say the same thing.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t go that far,” Dax chimed in. “But he’s not completely off. She’s the most dangerous opponent we’ve faced to date. When we get suited up, I’ll relay an image I’ve recorded of her for you to spread around to your security forces.”

“I’d appreciate that. In the meantime, we’re about to get underway. We won’t be able to launch any ships discreetly after we leave,” the commander said, looking at Mark.

“Copy that,” the young man replied.

He slid off his bed and picked up the clothes he didn’t bring into the fight.

“If things get too bad, we’ll come in and blast some holes in Valtakuntera hulls,” he added.

The commander snickered at the comment. Dax looked around the room while everyone turned their attention to him.

“What was that?” Dalia asked.

“I mean, I know you all are good, but claiming to be able to penetrate Valtakuntera armor’s some sort of joke, right? No weapons can breach their hulls.”

“My people can,” Dalia replied. “It’s why the Valtukta targeted us in the first place. Our power sources and weapons were one of the only things that could damage their ships.”

“My people were the other,” Sandrina added. “And I’m sure you heard about what happened to Bastet because it started to return to life.”

“I did hear about that, and I’m sorry,” the commander replied. “But I’m a man of evidence. I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Believe it,” Ruthnar called out, approaching them. “It’s how they escaped the Valtakuntera shortly after their capture.”

“Not shortly, but yeah,” Dax added.

“One of the Broken Shield was an experiment in the same cellblock. They released the prisoners, and my guy got to the hangar. He said he watched their rusty bucket of bolts blow a hole in the side of the Valtukta ship large enough for a handful of prisoners to escape,” Ruthnar continued. “If you’d like, I can send you the footage he captured of the incident. You’ll see that the very ship you have in your hangar is the one that opened fire.”

“Same weapon system and power system anyway,” Mark corrected. “The ol’ girl took quite a bit of damage between then and now and has been upgraded. So, she’s even better. In the meantime, I’ll see you all on the back end and, let’s hope, none of you in actual space.”

Dax watched Mark leave. He released Dalia’s hand and approached the commander while working through plans to cover all their bases.

“First thing you’re going to want to do, take the races that are most resilient to radiation and give them weapons that spew that stuff,” Dax said. “Valtukta can’t handle radiation. Even in their suits, it’ll shut them down. The issue is, prolonged exposure will put down everyone else, so make sure they can take that stuff.”

“Our Tardig fighters are some who are completely unaffected by radiation. I can assign them as emergency backup if we need to go scorched-ship,” the commander said.

“Good, and give me some to inhale. I’ll be able to spit it as a last-ditch effort if things get too nasty,” Dax added.

9

DELEGATE

Dax clipped his greaves into place. Interlocking them with his boots, he sat up. Dalia draped the wolf bear pelt down her back before checking the Fat Mac and the full bandolier that draped across the front of her body.

“No sound cannon?” Sandrina asked, donning her modified Valtakuntera gear.

“There will be unarmored civilians in this ship,” she replied, slinging the veritable cannon over her shoulder. “If I use it, I’ll likely deafen most of the people we’re here to protect.”

“You might do the same with the Fat Mac,” Kane chuckled.

He summoned his helmet before turning it from the OGRE skull to transparent.

“Just try not to shoot it with anyone down range you don’t want to give permanent hearing damage to.”

“That’s the plan,” Dalia replied.

Dax pulled his breastplate in place, followed by the arms and gloves. He took one more deep breath of the bland room’s stale air before sliding his helmet ring in place and locking it onto his suit.

“Let’s hope our theory is wrong and that there isn’t a leak,” Dax said, summoning his helmet. “It’d be nice to have an easy mission for once.”

Kane rolled his eyes and let out a grunt.

“You know you just jinxed us, right, kid?” he asked. “That’s like saying ‘quiet’ in a hospital, or on patrol with police.”

He walked over to a closed weapons crate the ship’s security commander offered them. Kane unlocked it and flipped it open, revealing a dozen guns that ranged from pistols to sniper rifles. Kane grabbed a shotgun and slung it over his shoulder. He picked up one of the larger pistols and attached it to his lower back.

“If I were you guys, I’d grab as many of these as you can now,” Kane suggested.

“What happened to ‘inferior technology for an inferior fighting force’?” Sandrina teased.

“That was before Dax said this would be an easy mission,” Kane countered.

“I didn’t say it was going to be easy, just that I hoped it would,” Dax corrected.

“Doesn’t matter, the ‘E’ word is the ‘E’ word. Say it and this is guaranteed to be an uphill fight in the snow, both ways.”

“Kind of like when you’d be forced to walk to school,” Dax jested.

Kane picked up one of the rifles and offered it to Dax.

“Exactly,” he replied.

Dax took the gun. He inspected it before getting his hand anywhere near the trigger well. It was a sleek weapon with a plasma cooling unit barely perceptible on its side. He raised it to his shoulder, aiming it at the ground. Holographic sights appeared on his HUD while marking the reflection of Kane as a lifeform.

“It’s a nice gun, but I’m a fan of my pistols, thank you very much,” Dax said.

“You can’t use the Dal’no one,” Dalia cut in. “Same reason I can’t use mine.”

“Having one weapon on a mission like this seems ill advised,” Sandrina added.

“Fine,” Dax grumbled. “I’ll take the weapon, but not because of peer pressure.”

He slung the rifle’s strap over his shoulder before Sandrina pushed past him. He grunted, taking a half step back.

“There’s plenty of room to go around,” he complained.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Sandrina teased.

She picked up a shotgun and a pistol to go along with her rifle. Dalia was quick to push past as well. Dax staggered several more steps back.

“Did I put on Mark’s armor or something?” he asked. “Am I completely invisible?”

“No, it just looked fun,” Dalia mused, keeping her eyes on the crate. “What’s the biggest thing they’ve got?”

Kane held up the smallest pistol. She grabbed it with two fingers. Her pinkie was several times larger than the trigger well.

“What’s this supposed to be?” she huffed.

“Oh, I’ve seen that one. I think that one’s called the Midget Cricket,” Dax said.

“It’s the Noisy Cricket,” Kane corrected.

“Either way, I can’t use this. Even if I could, I’d just break the darn thing,” Dalia said, handing the gun back.

“If those weapons aren’t to your satisfaction, I’m sure we could find others that could suit your needs,” a scratchy voice called out from behind them.

Dax spun to see Ruthnar and the commander standing with an ashen-skinned man. Deep wrinkles covered what parts of his face were visible beneath his snow-white beard and hair. Every ounce of Dax’s being fought the urge to call the man Santa. His robes were cherry red with white fuzz around the cuffs, neckline and base of the outfit.

“What do you have that’s big enough for her?” Sandrina asked, motioning toward Dalia.

“Commander, would you kindly retrieve one of the Tardig handguns?” the man asked.

“Sir, the Tardigs are barely able to handle them,” the commander countered.

“Yes, but I saw this woman handle your largest Tardig like he was an overly stubborn child. I think she’d be able to wield such a weapon.”

“I can,” Dalia chimed in.

“Okay, but we’re not responsible for any broken bones you may, or probably will, obtain in the process,” the commander replied.

He turned, leaving the room while the man dressed in satin took a step forward. He raised his arms from his side. Dax noticed three fingers on each hand as he slid them into the opposing sleeve before letting them come to rest on his stomach.

“It seems you’re the team that the Ryshy are betting on to keep me safe. You’re an interesting-looking race, if you don’t mind my saying, but your ability for physical combat,” he said, looking from the other team members in the room to Dax, “and improvisation is unlike anything I’ve seen before.”

“We’re only interesting-looking because our space sector is quarantined and we’re the only ones that made it out,” Kane said, stepping forward. “To us, you all are the weird ones.”

“Yes,” the delegate mused. “I suppose you are right on that front. I do mean no disrespect, but what makes your team specifically qualified to protect this ship when we’ve got a veritable army at our back?”

“Sir,” Ruthnar started.

The delegate raised a hand, quieting him.

“I’ve heard your praises. I want to hear theirs,” he explained.

“I’m just here for medical and last-string backup,” Sandrina said. “But these three went onto a ship infected with a sentient fungus that’d turned the entire crew into hyper-aggressive living zombies. They spent almost a full day on it, survived, wiped out the infected Jarog controlling them and launched the ship into a star.”

“What kind of ship was it?” the man asked, looking at Dax.

“Mining vessel, complete with all the gear and heavy movers that come on board,” Dax explained. “We even jerry-rigged a couple to do things they were not supposed to do.”

“And is there anyone who can corroborate your story aside from your own crewmates?”

“Look, old man,” Dalia cut in.

“’Bout time someone else was called that,” Kane muttered.

“You can call Master Decombres of Tachyon or our handler Bleeze if you want, and waste time, along with risking leading the Valtakuntera right to us, or you can believe that we almost died fighting monstrosities that would give your nightmares nightmares,” Dalia snarled.

The man’s eyes widened. His jaw fell loose as he took a half step back.

“That’s no way to speak with a Ryshy delegate,” he gasped.

“Maybe that’s no way for a member of the Ryshy to speak to a Ryshy delegate,” Dalia continued to drill.

Her fury and passion made Dax’s heart skip a beat. Part of him wanted to say the exact same thing; the other half held him in place to be diplomatic. Dalia stepped past him, sending waves of goosebumps through his body while she loomed over the delegate.

“We’re OGREs, members of the Junkyard. We’re such a thorn in the side of the Valtakuntera, they’ve sent not one, not two, but three full fleets to take us down. The fact that we’re standing here should tell you who won those fights,” she continued, pushing her massive index finger into his chest with a stern prod. “The Ryshy haven’t been able to get the job done; not even the greatest mercenary group in the galaxy was able to keep you safe… no offense.”

She glanced at Ruthnar.

“None taken. You’re just telling the truth,” Ruthnar replied.

“Queloth—your boss, Ruthnar’s brother—called us in personally because everyone else kept dropping the ball. We’re the ones who, while in swimwear, took on all of Tarluth’s clones and won…”

“Without spilling a single drop of our margaritas,” Sandrina cut in.

“Yes, without spilling a single drop of our drinks,” Dalia continued. “So, instead of grilling us about our ability to keep you safe, how about you start answering some questions about what makes you so qualified to merit our level of protection?”

The delegate fell silent. With a flick of his eyes, Dax activated the OGRE skull on his helmet. Kane followed suit. The old man looked from the massive finger pressed against his chest to the intimidating helmets, then to Sandrina. She rested her gun on her knees and leaned against it before shrugging.

“Don’t look at me,” she said. “Like I pointed out, I’m just medical. These three are the ones you need to watch out for.”

The delegate swallowed hard before turning toward Dalia.

“I, uh… I believe I’ve seen all that I needed to see,” he stammered. “Accept my deepest apologies and know that you have the complete confidence of this delegate of the Ryshy. I will relay your qualifications to the others and reassure them that we’re in the best possible hands for this job.”

“You’d better,” Dalia growled.

He smacked his dry lips before clearing his throat, nodding and turning around. As fast as his feet could carry him, the delegate fled the room. Dax stifled a chuckle while Ruthnar looked from Dalia to him.

“I know she’s your Battle Bonded, but I’m both terrified and a little turned on,” he said.

“Dalia has that effect on people,” Kane replied.

“You’ll get used to it eventually,” Dax said.

“No, you don’t,” Sandrina corrected.

She sat up, activating her helmet to close around her head.

“I don’t like it when people question the efficacy of my crew,” Dalia growled, glaring at the door. “They’re like family, even with the awkward emotions they sometimes feel.”

“Well, you’ve just done something no other person’s been able to do, and told off a full-of- themselves delegate.” Ruthnar chuckled. “They wield a lot of power and can control where the money goes. It’s quite refreshing seeing them put in their place by people not bound to their whims.”

“Your brothers’ credits already cleared,” Dalia mused, looking at the Dracolich. “Otherwise, I would’ve been a little more careful of what I said, or held my tongue altogether.”

“If I were you, I probably would’ve anyway,” Dax chimed in, stepping forward. “Don’t get me wrong, I love seeing you get like that. But there’s one thing that man can do to you that not even Queloth can stop.”

“I doubt it,” Ruthnar scoffed.

Dalia turned toward Dax. She crossed her arms, raised an eyebrow and shifted her weight to one leg.

“Oh really? And what do you think that frail man could do to me?” she asked.

“I mean, isn’t it obvious?” Dax asked.

He motioned to the door, then glanced at Kane, who shrugged and shook his head.

“Next time he visits, he’s giving every single one of us coal.”

10

TOUR

“Is this what you guys do?” Ruthnar asked. “Just bully people into submission?”

He led them through the ship’s wide corridors. He inspected his highly polished white armor, ensuring it was properly deployed. Dax glanced into the rooms as they passed. Some had men and women sitting around tables playing holographic games. Others appeared to be workshops where crew members repaired or built parts for the ship.

“I wouldn’t go so far as to say we do that,” Dax said.

He watched a Tardig bend a steel bar to a ninety-degree angle for a Galio to start welding.

“We just stand up for ourselves when someone tries to project undue authority over us.”

“You’ve always treated us like equals,” Dalia chimed in. “We’ve never tried to intimidate you.”

“I cut this one in ways that should’ve killed him six times over, and he still kept fighting,” Ruthnar said, pointing at Dax. “Do you have any idea how intimidating it is to cut a femoral and radial artery that’s supposed to cause a bleed-out in a matter of seconds, only to have your face continually pounded in by a surprisingly sharp elbow?”

“Nope, but I’m well aware of what it’s like being on the business end of your claws,” Dax countered. “And it’s not as fun as it sounds.”

“We try not to be bullies, but unfortunately, others only respond to positions of strength,” Kane explained. “We take the position if we have to.”

“Is that your military background talking?” Dalia asked.

Kane scoffed and shook his head.

“When I was a kid, I was the one who picked on everyone else. I’d stop if they stood up for themselves.”

“How long do you think it’ll take Tylira to get the hint, then?” Sandrina asked. “We’ve been dealing with her from a position of strength since day one.”

“I imagine the lesson will kick in when she’s little more than a pile of ash on the ground,” Kane replied.

“Here’s hoping it’s sooner rather than later,” Dalia added.

They rounded a corner to a thick door painted a bright yellow and black. Dax let out a whistle. It reached three decks high. From the look of its glass window, it was nearly twenty feet thick. Ruthnar placed his hand on the door.

“Power room?” Dax asked.

“What gave it away?” Ruthnar replied.

“Probably because black and yellow screams ‘warning, don’t touch’,” Kane jumped in.

“He does have a valid point,” Dalia said.

“It’s the power room, yes. If we open this, it’ll flood three decks with radiation and make another two inaccessible. There are safe rooms on each deck to protect from the resulting wave, but it’ll dump enough to punch through even Tardig armor,” Ruthnar explained. “If it looks like the ship is going to be lost, you’ll hear an alarm. Once that goes off, you have thirty seconds to get to one of the safe rooms or away from the affected decks.”

“Was this ever activated on any of the other ships?” Sandrina asked.

Dax stepped closer to the door. He gave it a quick knock. The sound that came back was little more than a low thud.

“This is a prototype,” the guard commander explained.

He rounded the corner with a contingent of Tardig soldiers.

“No other vessel has this; their power rooms are almost completely sealed off. There’s enough juice in that thing to fry a Tardig, even in their radiation armor,” he added, tapping the breastplate of the guard next to him. “So, don’t get any ideas that you’ll be able to survive an exposure event if the alarm sounds.”

“What are you using to draw the attention of potential boarders to the lethal decks?” Kane asked.

“This ship is only seven decks tall. Five of them will be flooded with lethal doses of radiation. We don’t need to draw anyone into the heart of the ship,” the commander explained. “Any invading forces that are on the outer two decks won’t stay on a ship where all of their friends just died and every living being that wants them off this vessel will be armed and on the level with them.”

“That’s terrifying and interesting,” Dalia muttered.

With a wave of his hand, the commander summoned a Tardig with a large, lead-lined case. He set the box down and took a step back. Dax’s HUD started to blink warnings. A red square blinked around the box with a reading of two hundred RADs.

“Well, crap,” Kane huffed.

“You see it too?” Dax asked.

“We’ve got the same system and HUD; of course I see it too. Suit, how much of that are you able to protect from?”

Silence fell on the ground. Kane turned to Sandrina.

“And what about non-OGRE gear?” he asked.

After a few seconds, he looked at Dalia. With a frustrated grumble, Kane threw his hands up.

“Well, that’s not great news.”

“What isn’t?” Dax asked.

“Our suits were designed for space walks. We can handle a direct hit of twenty thousand RADs in one go. Unless we open that box and it’s the Arc of the Covenant, we will be fine,” Kane said, motioning between himself and Dax. “Dalia’s armor and skin are designed to absorb and use radiation for the benefit of the host. Sandrina, on the other hand, isn’t built to take any kind of exposure.”

“How? This is a repurposed Valtakuntera suit of armor. Why doesn’t it have radiation safeguards?” the Bastet asked.

“That is beyond me, but my suit estimates you’re only safe for an hour once we open that crate,” Kane explained.

“So, if the fan that gets hit, gets hit, we only have an hour of super effective ammunition to use against the Valtakuntera?” Dalia asked.

“Just like a water gun to a Charizard,” Dax added. “Show us where the safe rooms are for each deck just in case she has to retreat.”

“I’m not leaving you guys in a fight. I’ve got iodine tablets. I’ll be fine,” Sandrina said.

“Those only work to protect your thyroid glands, not the other parts of your body. And it’s only effective against radioactive iodine,” Kane explained. “I very much doubt this behemoth…”

He pointed at the door before motioning to the crate.

“… or these attachments use that specific material.”

“Even if it did, your other organs, heart, liver, kidneys, brain… With your genetics, you may be able to repair from radiation better than we can, but that’s irrelevant when facing a nuclear power core,” Dax explained.

“What makes you think that?” Dalia asked.

“Earth cats can do it. The Bastet have more similarities to them than not,” Dax explained. “Call it an educated guess.”

“Then it’s settled. I’ll stay with you for seventy minutes once you open that crate and fall back to safety at that point,” Sandrina replied.

“That’s beyond the safety threshold,” Ruthnar countered. “Dax’s conclusion is just an assumption. We don’t know he’ll be right.”

“Yes, we do,” Dalia cut in. “With his educated guesses, he’s right more often than not.”

“And the times he’s wrong, he’s still right, which is mildly infuriating,” Kane added.

“If that’s the case, why are we doing this? Why not make your educated guess to find the Valtukta that’ll attack us and put a stop to them before the fight?” the commander asked.

“Because I don’t just pull it out of thin air. It’s based on previous history, scientific discovery, and series of emerging patterns that I draw on. It’s not foresight, it’s data usage,” Dax countered. “And the Valtakuntera don’t exactly give me a lot of information to work with. Now, will you show us those safe rooms?”

Dax picked up the crate. He positioned himself as far away from Sandrina as he could while the Dracolich turned and walked back into the corridor. The members of the Junkyard followed with Ruthnar close behind.

The commander led them past a chow hall and to a door with a frame that protruded from the wall a few inches. Next to it was the same door control that sat next to every other entrance on the ship.

“This is what you look for,” the commander said. “These frames hold three feet of a lead alloy that’s been shown to protect occupants in case of a containment breach. These rooms are supported by a reinforced column, so they’re in the same spot on each deck. Five in total per deck, none more than two hundred yards from the next.”

The commander stepped in. He motioned to a line on the floor.

“If this room is already sealed when you arrive, use the scanner. It’ll still let you in, but a decontamination chamber will be in place that will be sealed against this seam on the floor. Once inside, it’ll scan your genetics. If you’re a crew member, it’ll decontaminate you. If it picks up a Valtukta inside, it’ll flood the chamber with enough radiation to kill everyone inside.”

“Moral of the story, don’t initiate decontamination if you’re being held at gunpoint and told to be let in,” Ruthnar added.

Dax shot Dalia a knowing look. Her eyes widened, offering a slight nod.

“Unless that person with a gun to your back is Tylira,” Kane chimed in, looking at the guards around them. “There are some things important enough to sacrifice yourself to complete. Ensuring that woman can no longer plague the galaxy is worth any of our lives. I’d go so far as to say if she gets the drop on you, lie and tell her you know where the other humans are, take her into one of these and make sure she doesn’t walk out.”

“Interesting,” the commander muttered.

“What?” Dax asked.

“The concept of self-sacrifice to kill an enemy is rare among the known species of the galaxy. To see someone be so willing to lay down his life to destroy an enemy is unsettling.”

“If you’d ever faced down Tylira, you’d understand,” Sandrina added. “Ending her would make almost any sacrifice worthwhile.”

“With that logic, why don’t we just cause a core meltdown and destroy the ship the second she’s on board?” the commander asked.

“She said almost,” Dax cut in. “We can make the choice for ourselves. It should never be made for someone else. That’s what separates us from the Valtakuntera. We don’t leave people behind, and we don’t throw others into a meat grinder we’re not willing to walk into ourselves.”

A shudder trembled through the ship. Ruthnar and the commander both looked up, took a deep breath, then turned to each other.

“What?” Dalia asked.

“We’ve officially crossed the point of no return,” the commander said. “That was what I believe your crew calls the leap drive. It’ll be a matter of hours before we reach the barrier where the Valtakuntera usually strike.”

“And when will we know if they don’t?” Sandrina asked.

“This time tomorrow, if we’re still in one piece, then Tarluth wasn’t the leak and we’re in the clear,” Ruthnar explained.

“I knew we had to have a leak.” The commander chuckled. “That’s the only explanation for the other failed mission and this Hail Mary of a plan. Didn’t think Tarluth would be on that list, though.”

“If he is, it may not be directly his fault,” Dalia added.

“Before we dive down that rabbit hole, Commander, we need a place to stay,” Kane said, stepping forward. “A place that won’t get picked up by scans but won’t be obvious that it’s hiding something.”

“Why?” the commander asked.

“The Valtakuntera knows our suits, our tech and our signatures. On the off chance they look for that data before boarding, they’ll likely just blow us out of the sky and all of this would’ve been for nothing.”

“Follow me; I’ll take you to the captain’s quarters. It’s in the heart of the ship and it doesn’t show up well on scanners,” the Dracolich said.

11

WAITING

Dax stood in the corner of a bare room. The magnets in his boots held him in place while he used his rifle to pin the radioactive attachments to the floor. Dalia and Sandrina drifted past him, flipping through the air, squealing in joy. Kane jumped around the room with his modified M4, aiming while he bounced from wall, to floor, to ceiling.

“What are you doing?” Dax asked, watching the soldier.

“If artificial gravity goes out, I want to be accustomed to how to move during a firefight,” Kane replied.

He spun in mid-air, planted his feet on the wall and launched himself at Dax. The groan of magnetic boots activating pulled him to the floor a few feet in front of the professor.

“You should give it a try,” Kane suggested. “So should you ladies. I can hold the crate down.”

The room’s door slid open with a hiss. Dax looked to see a young Galio enter with a ball under his arm. His eyes widened at the sight of four heavily armored people. He turned to leave.

“Wait a second, you don’t have to leave,” Dax called out.

Judging from the lack of cracks in his hardened skin, along with his height and width of his shoulders Dax figured he was about the same age as a human teenager. He stopped and turned back around. Dax retracted his helmet and offered him a friendly smile.

“What’s a kid like you doing on a ship for a mission like this?”

“My mom is one of the delegates,” he replied. “And the Valtakuntera killed my dad, so it’s either on this ship or in a Ryshy orphanage. This is safer.”

A wave of sadness washed over Dax. His heart broke for the Galio that such a dangerous mission was considered safer. He waved the young man in.

“Don’t let us stop you from doing something that’ll take your mind off things,” Dalia offered, pushing off a wall. “What’s the ball for?”

The Galio looked at the sphere. He stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him.

“I have a project for my class where I have to make something that contributes to society,” he replied.

“And what does a ball have to do with your contribution?” Sandrina asked.

“I was thinking about creating a game,” the young man said with a shrug. “I’ve noticed that people don’t seem to be as happy as they used to be with the threat of the Valtakuntera expansion. The only time I get a glimpse of that happiness is when they watch sports. Does that make sense?”

“We’ve got a lot more in common than you’d think,” Dax replied.

“Athletes are some of the highest paid people on our planet because they offer distractions from everyday stresses,” Kane added. “Let alone when there’s a threat looming overhead.”

“Unfortunately. Personally, I think they need to swap the salaries of the athletes with those of the teachers,” Dax chimed in.

“Of course you’d suggest that,” Kane said, rolling his eyes.

“If we paid teachers more, we’d get better education, better education would lead to more aware individuals, those individuals would grow up to be less likely to start wars, leading to less need to be distracted,” Dax explained.

“That seems like a stretch,” Sandrina said, floating past.

“There’s some recent data that supports that statement,” the young man cut in. “I did a research paper on it, comparing and contrasting Galio culture to others since my people have the highest paid teachers in the galaxy. We haven’t had an internal conflict in almost a hundred years. We’re the only race who can say that.”

“Note to self, when all of this is said and done, get a teaching job with the Galio,” Dax teased. “So, what sport are you thinking of developing?”

“I’m not sure yet,” he said, stepping into the zero-gravity field. “But there’s nothing in zero gravity with this kind of ball.”

“What are the parameters of your game?” Sandrina asked, catching herself on a wall and holding on to a small handle to keep herself in place.

“It can’t be a one-on-one sport, because if it’s an activity, it has to be able to include the entire class.”

“Team sport is easy enough,” Dalia said, catching herself on a wall as well. “My people have a game where we try to get a ball across a field without being brought to the ground or having the ball stripped from us.”

“You just described both football and rugby,” Dax mused. “My people have something similar.”

“The premise is sound, though. People do love a little brutality,” Kane said. “That’ll keep some attention. But if it’s for a class of kids, you can’t have them just beating on each other like football and rugby… Dalia, what do you call yours?”

“Underbeast skull, because that’s what we’d use for the ball.”

“The head of a defeated enemy, just like the Mayans.” Dax chuckled before pointing where the Galio entered. “There’s a spot with gravity over there?”

“Yes, it’s required in all rooms where gravity can be turned off. It prevents injury,” he replied.

Dax picked up the case. He walked under their guest, his boots clomping with each step. Once he reached the area with gravity, he put the box down and removed his rifle.

“In zero gravity, just making it to the other side of the room would be way too easy,” Sandrina called out. “With one good shove off the wall, you could score with each play.”

“What if we made a goal for the ball to go into?” the Galio suggested.

He threw the ball at the wall, drifting backward in the process. Dax turned off the magnets in his boots. He leapt into zero gravity with all his might, shooting across the room. An overwhelming feeling of joy enveloped him with the sense of flying.

Dax soared past the ball, activating the magnets in his boots, he landed on the wall. Catching the surprisingly hard sphere, he chuckled and gave it a squeeze. It didn’t give way.

“You wouldn’t want to get hit in the head with this,” he said with a chuckle. “If you’re going to make a goal on the wall, you don’t want it to be like soccer.”

“Another human sport?” Sandrina asked.

“That’s the one with the really big net you told me about, right?” Dalia asked.

“Yes, another human sport. The goal is enormous, which does lead to needing a skilled keeper to catch anything kicked at it,” Dax continued.

“But it does involve a lot of jumping,” Kane added.

Dax watched as the young man’s eyes narrowed. He looked at Dax with the ball, then the opposite wall.

“What if we made it three places you can score that are slightly larger than the ball?” he asked. “You can put the hoops on poles to give the goalie something to move around and push off of. That way it takes a level of skill to make the shot, but the goalie’s attention is divided among three possible scoring locations.”

He opened a hand and pointed it at Dax. Dax tossed the ball back to him. On impact, it pushed the Galio across the room. Dalia moved across the wall and caught him before he impacted.

“What if the size of the rings were different?” she suggested. “It’ll add a little more difficulty to the game.”

“If you get into that territory, though, you’ll need to make each ring worth a different point total, with the smallest being worth the most,” Kane added. “It’ll be the easiest to defend and hardest to score with.”

“We could do one, two, three,” the Galio said. “One being the largest, three being the smallest.”

“What if for more advanced games, you add a light to the ball and the ring as a game mode to tell the teams which ones they have to go for?” Sandrina suggested. “Or make matching the ball color to the hoop color worth double points. That’s something my people would do with our games as a kid.”

“I like that,” the Galio mused. “I’ll add it to the rules, but for the sake of the project, I don’t have a budget to actually pull that off.”

“I’ll take what I can get,” Sandrina replied.

The Galio turned and tossed the ball to Dalia. She caught it, looked at Dax and waved him toward her.

“Let’s see what you got, little man,” she teased.

“Little? I’m a tank compared to where I was half a decade ago,” he countered.

“Take it easy on him. He’s a nerd, not a jock; he doesn’t know how to take a hit,” Kane teased.

“Don’t know how to take a hit? I’ve almost had my face caved in more than once,” Dax countered.

“Let’s put that to the test,” Dalia chuckled.

She lunged off the wall. Dax pushed off as well. Rushing toward each other, Dax eyed her armor and cloak for a hold point. Before reaching her, she threw the ball at him, catching him off guard. It struck him in the face.

Dax flinched from the impact. His trajectory changed to pass over her, just out of reach. The Dal’no caught the ball, continuing to drift toward their imaginary goals.

“That’s cheating,” Dax grunted.

He swiped at her, his fingers missing her by less than an inch.

“There aren’t rules against it.” She chuckled.

“I’m calling legal,” the Galio shouted.

Dax clenched his teeth. He turned his feet toward the ceiling. Tapping his heels together, he was pulled to the metal. Once he made contact, he extended his left hand. Opening his fingers, he drew his arm toward himself.

Dalia jolted to a stop before being pulled toward him. Her cloak drifted over her head, blinding her.

“Oh, come on,” she grunted. “Not cool!”

She thrashed against his pull. With nothing to act as leverage, her trajectory remained the same. Once her ankle collided with Dax’s hand, he gripped her tightly. Tugging, he drew her torso into his embrace.

“There aren’t rules against it,” he taunted.

Grabbing her cloak, he wrapped it around her helmet to blind her. Dax deactivated his boots and plunged toward the floor, pinning her down with enough force to keep her immobile, but not enough to harm. With a punch to the sphere, he knocked it out of her grip.

It bounced off the ground. He lunged for it. Sandrina drifted behind it. With a spin, she kicked it at Dax. With a sharp breath, he used his magnetic boots to pull his face out of its line of fire. Landing, he turned to see Kane catch the ball and pin it against the wall.

“I’ll give you that, it was a good play,” Dax said.

“I love it!” the Galio shouted.

He pushed off a wall. Dax watched the excited young man drift toward Kane.

“Magnets will be off limits. All movements need to be under the player’s own power.”

Kane extended the ball toward him. He took it back and tucked it under his arm.

“I think this is a strong base for me to build the rest of the rules on.”

Dalia grabbed a handle on the ground with one hand while the other untangled her helmet. After a few seconds struggling, she shoved off the floor and floated to Dax’s side. He grabbed her, setting her down at his side.

“I will say that was a solid slam,” she said. “Cheap, but good.”

“I like the idea of keeping the ability to slam the other team around. I just need to come up with a name. Any ideas?” the Galio asked.

“You’ve got the name,” Dalia mused, motioning at Dax. “You’re allowing players to slam each other around. You’ve got yourself a ball. Call it Slam Ball.”

“Something like that already exists with the Tardig,” the young man countered.

“Ball of Slam,” Sandrina chimed in.

His face lit up. Before he could reply, an explosion and a violent rumble tore through the ship. Dax’s adrenaline surged. His helmet asserted itself while he looked at Kane.

“Looks like it’s time to go to work.”

“Get to the safe room,” Kane said to the Galio. “You’ll know when it’s safe to come out. Computer, turn on artificial gravity.”

12

SIT. REP

Dax hit the ground. His heart raced with the surge of adrenaline that coursed through his body. In an all-out sprint, he blasted past the Galio to reach the weapon crate. He summoned his helmet before grabbing his rifle from the floor.

Shouts of fear and soldiers barking orders flooded through the door when it opened for the Galio. Civilians sprinted one way while the guards rushed the other. With his left hand on the crate, his right slung his rifle over his shoulder before interacting with his vambrace’s holographic interface.

“Ruthnar, what’s going on?” he shouted.

Dalia rushed to Dax’s side, followed closely by Kane and Sandrina. An image of Ruthnar appeared through the augmented reality of Dax’s HUD.

“It looks like your educated guess was right again,” the Dracolich said.

A shudder tore across the ship. Sparks spewed from behind Ruthnar, raining harmlessly down around him.

“A Valtakuntera attack squad and one cruiser just came out of leap space. They’re aiming to disable the ship,” Ruthnar continued.

“Have they completed their initial scans?” Dax asked.

“They’re working on it. We’re adhering to protocol and jamming them so we don’t rouse suspicion.”

“How long until their scans are complete?” Kane asked.

“They’re going to be finished by the time this conversation is done.”

“Boarding parties?” Kane asked.

“Four puncture ships are inbound,” Ruthnar said.

Another violent shake followed by sparks sent a surge of frustration through Dax. He clenched his jaw, letting out an unexpected growl.

“Send us the deck you need help with,” Dalia chimed in. “We’ll fight them off.”

“No, send us where the last ship is going to hit,” Sandrina contributed. “Tylira runs every time she gets overwhelmed. She’s a coward. She’s not going to be the first ship when the resistance is the strongest; she’ll be on the last.”

Dax glanced at Kane, whose helmet reflected the OGRE skull.

“It matches her MO,” Kane added.

“You heard them,” Dax said, looking back at Ruthnar. “Once their scan’s complete, let us know where that last ship is going to hit.”

“Affirmative, I’ll meet you there,” the Dracolich said.

He cut off communication. An encrypted message blinked on Dax’s HUD.

“Sandrina, I’d put your helmet on and give us a little room,” Dax ordered.

She summoned her helmet and took several steps back. Dax’s attention flashed to the notification before returning to the crate.

“I take it you’ve found out you’re under attack?” Mark asked.

Another rumble shook the ship. Dax scoffed, flipping the box’s latches.

“A little hard to miss it when the entire ship is getting thrown around,” Dax countered. “How bad is it?”

“Bad enough that this is going to be a tough fight. Not so bad that I need to go get reinforcements yet.”

“Give it a few more minutes. When the Valtakuntera’s full attention is locked on us, then take out their cruiser,” Kane ordered.

Dax pulled the lid open. The Gieger counter on his HUD started beeping that lethal levels of RADs would be met in three hours for non-protected species.

“Which one?” Mark asked.

A knot twisted in Dax’s stomach. His hand froze a few inches above the attachments. He fell silent as another explosion rocked the ship. His mind started to race while the thumping of his heart gradually began rocking his body with each rhythmic beat.

“What do you mean which one?” Dax asked.

“The Junkyard picked up the signature of one hiding in the nebula like us.”

“Waiting for a counterattack to ambush,” Dalia whispered to herself.

Dax grabbed the barrel extension for the M4 and handed it to Kane. He passed back the piece meant for Dalia before retrieving both meant for his rifle and pistol.

“If they make a move, you cut that one in half first,” Dax ordered.

He screwed the extensions onto the barrels before picking up a small box that read ‘for Dax only’. His HUD quickly identified it as the most radioactive piece in the box. Grabbing it, he clipped it onto his belt.

“We’re going to keep scanning to see if there may be a command ship,” the Junkyard added. “The best way to end this quickly is to take out the leadership.”

“Effective strategy. If you can’t find one, though, destroy that second ship as soon as everyone’s completely focused on us,” Sandrina added.

“Don’t give them a place to retreat to,” Dalia added.

“That’s already on the list,” Mark replied.

“Good; we’ll update this crew and make sure everyone gets to safety while engaging the boarding parties. Unless it’s something blindingly important, keep further radio silence until you’ve made your presence known. We don’t want to give you away,” Dax explained before cutting off the radio.

Dax shut the case and kicked it to one side as the security commander rushed into the room.

“This is the largest fleet we’ve seen attack one delegation,” he said, pulling his rifle from the sling on his back. “Let’s hope Queloth’s faith in you is as well-placed as his brother’s.”

“There’s a second ship,” Dax explained. “It’s hiding in the nebula with the Junkyard. Our pilot already has a bead on its location and they’re looking for any other surprises.”

The commander’s back stiffened. What would be classified as a brow raised was accompanied by a surprised huff.

“It appears you really are as good as they say,” he mused.

“Get us in a real fight if you want to be impressed,” Dalia said.

“Give us two minutes. According to previous ship records, the scans typically wrap up just before the boarding craft hits. If I were you, I’d brace,” the commander ordered. “Because the last thing I need is for the best squad on this ship to be knocked out before the fight ever starts.”

Proximity alert! Proximity alert!

The ship’s system rang out. The commander tilted his head. His expression soured.

“Are you sure?” he growled. “Confirmed, all units activate internal magnetic shielding!”

The room’s door slammed shut, followed by a low hum. Another rumble violently shook the ship, causing lights to flicker before going dark. Dax’s HUD flickered, accompanied by a system overload warning then shut down.

“When’d they start using EMPs?” Sandrina asked.

“Today, apparently,” Dalia replied.

Dax looked at his hands. He tapped on his vambrace a few times. A high-pitched whine filled the suit before the HUD initiated its rebooting sequence. Emergency lights flickered to life in the room’s corners, casting eerie shadows in every direction.

“Good to see the hardening paid off,” the commander said.

He tapped his earpiece.

“Looks like my communicator wasn’t fully protected. Hopefully, my men’s still work,” the commander said.

He marched toward the door, digging his claws into the seam. He pulled, yanking it open to a dark corridor with flickering emergency lights. A squad of security guards knelt directly in front of them. They attempted to move, but the armor’s weight held them in place.

Dax rushed out, kneeling next to one while his suit continued to come online. He inspected the strange gear. Grabbing the encased man, Dax pulled him to his feet and held him upright.

“Is there a way for me to… the translator’s probably not working, is it?”

The helmet turned toward him before his shoulders shrugged.

“Kane’s right, we do have more in common than you’d think.”

Ruthnar rushed through the now empty corridor without his armor. A power pack under his arm and a connector cable in the other, he slid behind one of the guards, thrusting the cable under one of the guard’s armpits.

“Is that really going to work?” Dax asked in Valtukta.

“We’ll see,” Ruthnar replied. “It was stored in the engine room, so it should have some juice left.”

Lights flickered on the security guard’s armor. Ruthnar moved to each in turn, giving their suits a jump. The Junkyard crew’s suit lights turned on, giving more visibility to the flickering emergency system.

“You can’t fight without gear,” Dax said.

The guard in his arms started to move on his own once power was restored.

“Right now’s not really the time to worry about that. We’ve got inbound boarding parties, and I can move faster without it,” Ruthnar countered.

The commander let out a series of snarls and roars. Ruthnar replied with a few of his own, activating the last two suits before rushing down the hallway.

“ETA fifteen seconds to impact,” Ruthnar called back before disappearing.

“Everybody brace,” Dax barked.

His translator reactivated. Everyone dropped to a knee. Dax grabbed on to Dalia. Clenching his teeth, he looked at the intimidating helmet of his Battle Bonded. A sense of peace settled on him just before a series of ear-splitting screeches and violent jolts nearly knocked him off his feet. Dalia held him upright while catching Sandrina.

“That’s a breach,” the commander shouted.

“Where?” Kane asked.

Another impact, followed by a violent shift, sounded through the ship. Before the commander could reply, three more shook the hallway.

“I’m guessing everywhere,” the commander replied. “Half of you, with me, the other half with the Junkyard crew.”

“Please tell me your weapons are slug throwers or heavily insulated,” Dalia said to the guards, shouldering her rifle.

Dax checked the weapon Queloth armed him with. It was dark. Slinging it over his shoulder, he drew his Bastet pistol. Its power core glowed softly.

“This is going to be a problem,” Dax grumbled. “My rifle’s dead. Sandrina, your people make some great weaponry because the pistol’s still humming.”

“Mine’s dead too,” Sandrina replied. “And you’d better believe we’re that good.”

“That’s why slug throwers are the better choice,” Dalia said.

She shouldered her Fat Mac while Kane chambered a round in his M4.

“I agree with the big green lady. Sandrina, lift your arm,” Kane said.

She obliged. Kane pointed out the small hitch in her armpit for the guards.

“Valtakuntera have an emergency release on their suits in case they lose power. Pull this and you’ll eject the wearer. Use your guns as clubs and take their rifles,” Kane ordered.

“And if the power cell gets hit, whatever you do, don’t keep shooting,” Sandrina added. “Just throw the weapon because it’s about to explode.”

“Spread the information to everyone,” Dalia said.

“Will do,” the commander replied. “You five, with me.”

He sprinted down the hall with his guards. Dax looked in the opposite direction before waving them forward.

“You three stay behind us until we can get you some useful weapons,” Dax ordered.

They nodded. Raising his pistol, Dax jogged down the ship. His HUD continued running boot-up programs for the next few seconds before everything was back online. His vambrace’s the holographic map of their ship showed four boarding vessels. The closest one was two decks down and a hundred yards ahead. Sparks surged through the dimly lit corridor, showing twisted metal with a sharpened edge of black steel taking up a quarter of the hallway.

“Looks like they’ve got themselves some noses,” Kane called out, pointing at a door. “I’m assuming that’s a stairwell?”

“Yes,” one of the guards replied.

“Form up on the door,” Kane ordered. “Dax and I will take point and see if the Valtakuntera are on their way up or down.”

“Copy that,” Dax replied.

Rushing to the far side of the door, he pulled his pistol toward his chest while Dalia moved in behind him with a hand on his shoulder. Kane, Sandrina and the guards lined up on the other side.

“How do we manually open the door?” Dax asked.

“Just grab it and push,” one of the guards whispered. “But go slow; it’ll squeal if you go fast.”

Dax nodded; he shot Kane a look. The soldier stepped back, raised his rifle and made a quick motion with his hand. Grabbing the door, he slowly pushed it open. The thudding of boots echoed up the stairwell.

“Who wants to collect some pointy ears?” Dax asked.

“I’m down; I don’t think Henuva would appreciate it, though,” Dalia replied.

“Who knows, he might be able to transplant the tip back,” Kane chuckled.

13

BREACH

Voices echoed up the stairwell. Dax’s system translated it into a garbled, incoherent mess. His brow furrowed. Tilting his head, he whispered, “Computer, shut off translator.”

Silence filled his suit. Cut off from the rest of the ship, he could hear his heartbeat and the oceanic whoosh of blood flowing through his ears. With a snarl, he retracted his helmet.

“Scramblers are at ninety-four percent efficiency,” one soldier called out in Valtukta.

“Dax, what are you doing?” Kane whispered.

“I can understand them without my helmet,” he replied. “I’ll put it back on before everything kicks off.”

“Entering deck two, flashbang out,” a Valtakuntera soldier called out.

The soft pop of the stunning weapon rang out. Gunfire sounded, accompanied by the battle cries of both clashing factions.

“Moving to the next deck up,” another voice called out.

Dax summoned his helmet. Reactivating it, he looked at Kane and motioned for them to step back. All of them moved away from the door. Heavy boot falls on metal steps grew louder, causing his adrenaline to surge.

“Kane, Dalia, move on my go; Sandrina, watch our six when we push in,” Dax whispered.

Dalia tapped his shoulder in confirmation while Kane and Sandrina nodded as they raised their weapons. Dax steadied his breathing. A surge of adrenaline seeped into his system, begging to be completely set free. The thudding of boots stopped at what sounded like just outside of the door. His translator garbled something.

With a sharp inhale, he let the norepinephrine flood his system like water from a broken dam. His heart pounded like a jackhammer while a twisting pain filled his gut. Time seemed to stretch as he tightened the muscles in his arm, waiting to move it.

At eye level, a device broke past the cracked door’s barrier. In a blur, his hand flew up, batting it back into the stairwell. A shout of surprise and fear rose from beyond the wall. Dax’s mics cut out as a near blinding flash of light beamed through the crack in the door.

They turned back on to groans of discomfort and curses of pain. Dax pushed the door open and surged through. He grabbed the first Valtakuntera that was stacked on the door. Driving him up a few steps, he made room for Dalia and Kane.

Before the blinded Valtakuntera could react, he put the barrel of his pistol against the helmet’s right eye lens and squeezed the trigger. A flash of yellow and spray of silver dashed across the left lens before the Valtukta fell limp.

Dax grabbed the dropped rifle while Kane and Dalia opened fire to clear out the raiding party. Plasma and sparks flew off their armor from Kane’s M4. They staggered back from the splashing of superheated, radioactive gas and high velocity rounds.

Dax’s jaw tightened at the sight of their upgraded armor. His concerns were quickly dismissed when, with a single shot from Dalia’s cannon, three Valtukta who were in a line dropped to the ground. The first fell into pieces, the second was held together by scraps of their armor, while the third poured silver out of a cannonball-sized hole in his suit.

Garbled screams of what Dax assumed to be retreat and reinforcements rose from the surviving strike force. Inspecting the Valtakuntera rifle, he struck its power cell. Leaning over the banister, he took a potshot at one of the retreating soldiers.

Hundreds of Valtakuntera lined the steps, their weapons aimed at Dax. He took a sharp breath, his muscles instinctively tightening. A wall of purple plasma surged up the stairwell’s void. Kicking off the banister, he hit the wall just as hundreds of rounds of superheated gas splashed off the steps above him, making them glow red.

“You good?” Kane asked.

“Aside from being able to pull a diamond out if I’d had coal up there, yeah,” Dax replied.

He ejected the overheating power cell.

“How are we going to get down there?” Dalia asked.

“Wait for the boom and get ready to run,” Dax said.

He tossed the cell over the edge. Pieces of molten steel started to drip around him. With a grunt, he rolled back toward the door. Picking up the fallen Valtukta weapons, he slid them into the hallway.

“Get ready to move,” he shouted.

The guards quickly retrieved their weapons. Dax’s helmet darkened while a blinding purple light, accompanied by a violent tremor, surged through the stairwell. His suit rattled around him while the guards recoiled in pain.

“Are you good?” Dax asked.

“We’re fine,” one replied. “That didn’t hurt?”

“Looks like the bug impact resistance upgrade was worth it,” Sandrina mused, helping Dax to his feet.

“Looks like,” Dax replied.

He peered down the stairwell to see dozens of Valtakuntera on the ground. More from lower levels poured in, shooting up at them while shouting in garbled gibberish.

“Stop giving them something to shoot at,” Dalia barked.

She grabbed his shoulder and yanked him back.

“Get one level down and jam the door,” Dax ordered. “And pray the ones we just knocked out don’t try to get a lucky shot off on us.”

“If we do, I think our suits can handle one blast,” Kane countered, starting his descent.

“Yeah, but not dozens of them,” Dalia chimed in. “They’re compromised. A second blast could send all of them going. Which I would imagine would blow a hole in the ship.”

Dax followed down the stairs with Sandrina and the guards close behind.

“I didn’t think about that,” Dax said, stepping over the bodies.

“Of course you didn’t because it’s ‘blow everything up now and ask questions later’,” Kane countered. “But I’m struggling to find a tactic that would’ve worked as well, so I won’t knock it.”

“Appreciate it,” Dax replied.

As they reached the platform to deck two, one of the Valtakuntera groaned and tried to sit up. He aimed his weapon at Kane as the soldier passed. Dalia drove her boot into his wrist, pinning his arm against the wall. Before he could squeeze the trigger, Dax pressed his pistol under the Valtukta’s chin and fired, ending the alien before he could shoot.

“Get through the door,” Dalia barked.

Kane poked his head out. He withdrew it, only to have Valtakuntera pepper the doorway with fire.

“They’ve got a bunch of people guarding that dropship,” Kane shouted.

“I’ve got an idea,” Sandrina said.

She pushed her way to the front of the group in her modified Valtakuntera armor. She shouted in the space elf language before firing her own weapon through the doorway and against its frame. Grabbing Kane, she placed the gun at his neck.

“Play along,” she whispered.

She looked back and motioned at Dax and Dalia for them to follow.

“On the go-word, make your move,” she said.

“What’s the go-word?” Dax asked.

“You’ll know it,” she replied before screaming in Valtukta. “Hands on your head! You make another move for that gun, I’ll blow your head off.”

She inched them toward the door while continuing to shout.

“Don’t shoot! I’ve got one of the humans Tylira wants,” Sandrina continued.

Kane inched through the doorway, his hands above his head. Dax’s heart stopped. He prepared himself to watch his teammate be shot down. Nothing happened, no splashing of plasma or heat indicators. Just a Bastet shoving a human into the corridor at gunpoint.

“When’d she learn Valtukta?” Dalia whispered.

“No idea, but I’m starting to feel like my one gimmick with this crew is becoming less special,” Dax replied, withdrawing his helmet.

“On the ground, on the ground!” a Valtukta barked.

“Inform Tylira we have one of the humans,” another snarled. “Restrain him and set him in the evac until she shows up.”

The loud crack of Kane’s helmet into another’s, followed by an uproar of shouts, swears and threats sent a wave of worry through Dax’s system. He inched his way toward the open door, pressing himself against the wall.

Dalia moved in behind him. The guards followed suit. Picking up one of the injured Valtakuntera’s rifles, he let his finger hover over its trigger. Every muscle fiber in his body burned, screaming for him to lunge out there and help an audibly struggling Kane.

“I’ll rip your faces off and sew them into a jacket!” Kane roared. “Once I’m done with you, I’ll have a necklace of your ears that I’ll wear until they turn to jerky, then I’ll eat them!”

“Easy, Kane, you’re playing it up a bit much,” Dax whispered.

Another crack of metal on his helmet rang out. Kane fell silent. The clanging of metal indicated he was at least still upright.

“How’d you manage this?”

“It’s-a-me!” Sandrina replied in a high-pitched tone.

“That’s it,” Dax shouted.

He burst around the corner. Sandrina dropped to a knee and lowered her head. With a shot from his pistol, he dropped the Valtukta that stood next to the Bastet. He fired the Valtukta rifle before chucking it at the group of soldiers to his left. Dalia rushed in, providing suppressing fire while Dax planted a foot firmly between Sandrina’s shoulder blades.

“Pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-PA!” Dax shouted.

He spun through the air. With two well-placed shots, he took out the soldiers escorting Kane. Landing, he crashed into the opposing wall.

“Let’s-ha-go!” he added.

The rifle detonated, causing havoc and sending a handful of Valtukta soldiers flying in every direction. Dalia’s cannon ripped through the breaching craft’s hull, killing those trying to use it as cover.

The security force rushed out; two shot into the mayhem while the third closed and jammed the door. Kane grabbed the third Valtukta that held him. With a flick of the emergency release, he revealed the man inside. Rearing back, Kane smashed his helmet into the soldier’s head, sending him to the ground.

Kane shot the Valtukta once. Radiation poisoning quickly killed the stunned attacker. The old soldier turned, firing at their enemies that tried to hide behind the seats and open doors of a ship that cleaved the corridor almost completely in half.

“Kind of in a kill box here,” Kane shouted.

Purple light started to fly between them once the shock and awe wore off. One of the guards pulled a flash-bang off a dead body and threw it in the opposite direction of the ship. It detonated, buying them a few more seconds.

“Get on the ship,” Dax ordered. “If their computers aren’t encrypted, I can shut the doors. It’ll at least buy us some time.”

“Copy that,” Kane barked.

He waved Dalia and Sandrina to follow him while he charged into the boarding ship, unloading on anyone who wasn’t in a full retreat. The Fat Mac flashed. Its explosions shook the air, sending percussion warnings through Dax’s HUD while he and the security officers fired down the corridor, covering their movements.

Once inside the ship, Dax looked at the control system. His HUD noted a translation firewall, preventing it from turning the words to English. Still able to read the strange markings, Dax quickly cycled through their system. He selected the door shutting process, only to be stopped by a password.

One of the guards took a shot to his helmet. It started to glow, causing him to scream in pain while removing the piece of armor. Before his associates could stop him, the helmet was on the ground. A second shot struck the alien in the head. In a burst of blue and ash, the guard fell to the ground, limp.

“Close the doors!” Kane roared.

“It’s password protect… Zulozare!”

He put the password in. It was accepted, causing the doors to immediately start to close.

“Where’d you pull that from?” Sandrina asked.

“The Valtakuntera do a thousand things wrong. Thankfully, the worst is pulling a grandparent and having the same exact password for everything.”

“Grandparent?” Kane teased, firing a few suppressive shots.

“I had like eighty things to log into,” Dax countered, making his way toward the opposite side of the ship. “And it was for an individual person, not an entire empire. Besides, I at least used numbers and symbols in mine.”

Dax moved his head to one side; a plasma round narrowly missed his helmet. He fired, taking out the Valtukta that shot at him.

“Do none of you take cybersecurity seriously?” Sandrina asked.

“I have different logins,” Dalia replied.

She pulled one of the guards backward, while the other grabbed some munitions from the body of their fallen team member.

“I don’t want to get lectured by Mark for five hours again,” she added.

“Anyone tells Mark, they get the next cycle of black tank duties,” Dax warned.

Dax and Kane stepped off the ship. Sandrina shot the controls while climbing out as well. Dalia helped both guards back into the corridor, ducking under the falling steel walls until they locked themselves in place, cutting them off from the rest of the ship.

“Well, that’ll buy us some time at least,” Dax huffed.

“Uh, Dax?” Sandrina said, tapping his shoulder.

He turned to see a small army of Valtukta standing behind them with their weapons raised. Dax cracked a grin while raising his hands in the air.

“You think I spoke a little too soon?” he asked.

“I think you spoke a little too soon,” Sandrina replied with a nod.

14

SCRAP

“You guys can shoot your way out of this,” one of the guards whispered.

“Put your hands up!” a Valtukta shouted. “Drop your weapons.”

“Do you have any idea how bad it is for the gun if you drop it?” Kane asked. “You should, with your prevalent heat sink issue.”

“Seriously,” the second guard added. “Take these guys out and find your target.”

“We do that, you die,” Dax countered. “We’ll find a way around this without throwing your lives away.”

“This is what we signed up for,” the first guard countered.

He clipped all but one of the dead man’s munitions to his belt.

“Our lives for the success of the mission.”

The security officer tossed the device in front of them. It skittered across the ground, rolling in the middle of the group. In a small explosion, it sent molten steel in every direction for five feet. The thermite burned through armor while chewing away at the floor, distracting almost everyone.

Without skipping a beat, the guard charged forward. Dax reached out to grab him, only for the second to wrap an arm around his neck, stopping him in place.

“They’re already active,” he barked.

The few Valtukta still paying attention opened fire on the charging guard. He threw his hands up to protect his face. Plasma chewed through his suit. Dax’s chest tightened, watching the brave guard barrel through the first line, into the second while letting out a defiant scream.

He dove past the third, getting his body as high in the air as possible. The ordnance detonated all at once. Weaponized lava erupted in every direction. The guard was consumed in the blink of an eye. Valtukta weapons and armor were burned through like they weren’t even there.

Soldiers screamed, flailing while steam billowed out of the holes in their suits. Dax raised his pistol. He squeezed the trigger. It clicked. With the flick of his thumb, the empty canister fell from its grip. Grabbing the backup off his waist, he slid it into the weapon. It squealed, starting to charge.

“Avoid the thermite and push forward. We’ve got to find Tylira,” Kane ordered.

Dalia, Kane and Sandrina opened fire while the last guard released Dax. He moved toward the wall while the floor started to creak under the strain of a superheated chemical reaction.

Dax took point, and smoke and countless other caustic chemicals filled the air, creating a dense smoke screen he couldn’t see through. His helmet cycled through different wavelengths before settling on one that cut through the miasma.

He tuned out the screams of pain and confusion, focusing on keeping the wall an inch from his arm. A Valtukta reached out for him. He grabbed the wrist, twisted it to one side and fired. In a flash of blue light, the soldier dropped.

The ground dropped an inch under foot along with his stomach. He reached back to the guard behind him, grabbed the man by his forearm, and with all his might, threw the man forward.

Everything in Dax shifted. He let out a grunt while the ground vanished from under him. He slammed his left hand on the wall, activating the magnet. Sparks flew from his palm while chaos erupted around him. He withdrew his body, pressing it instinctively against the barrier at his side.

The clanging of metal and thuds of bodies filled the corridor. Dax holstered his gun. He looked up to see Sandrina leaping over him, landing safely on the opposite side of the gap. Kane sprinted at the wall. The hum of his boots activating cut through raining steel and shouts of pain. He sprinted across the wall, landing on the far side as well.

“Show off,” Dax called up.

“You’ve got magnets in your boots, you can do that spidermans thing,” Kane replied.

“You know that’s not how you say his name,” Dax hissed back.

The floor shifted. More of it fell twenty feet to the deck below. Dalia had to take a few more steps back to stop from falling with it.

“Guys, I don’t think I can make that jump in my armor,” Dalia said.

Before her sentence was finished, Dax deactivated his glove, dropping to the lower level. His suit compensated for the fall. Immediately crouching behind rubble, he drew his pistol while his helmet shifted once again to give him the best field of view.

“Then get down here and we’ll meet the other three near the back of the ship,” Dax called out.

Dalia leapt from the upper deck. She landed among the debris before looking up at Kane and Sandrina.

“Go! We’ll meet you at the last boarding ship,” she shouted.

Dax looked at his vambrace. Its scans painted a clearer picture than the battle-strewn, smoke-filled corridors could.

“Straight ahead, one deck down for you,” Dax called out. “Wait at the stairs; we’ll clear them with you to divide their forces.”

“Copy that,” Kane shouted.

He turned and vanished with Sandrina and their last remaining companion. Dax looked around the rubble of twisted metal. He found a thick sheet with fewer thermite holes than the rest.

“Keep behind me and shoot when there’s a clearing,” Dax ordered.

He lifted the sheet of metal. His muscles trembled under its heft before his suit’s compensators kicked in, bearing most of the weight for him. Garbled voices roared from the obstructed corridor before them.

Dax withdrew his helmet. The stench of burned skin, melted plastic and scorched steel burned his nostrils so thoroughly, he could taste it. He grimaced, fighting the urge to cough or dry heave. The muffled words of the Valtukta language rose from the wall of particulates before him, uninhibited by his suit’s microphones.

“Report!” one of the Valtukta shouted.

Dax lowered the shield. He shot a glance at Dalia, who nodded at him, raising her rifle.

“Let me get my helmet back up before you shoot,” he whispered.

“We’ll see,” she teased.

“Humans,” Dax shouted back in Valtukta. “The humans hit us with an incendiary. It ate our armor, destroyed the floor. Those of us who survived don’t have helmets anymore.”

“How many are still alive?”

Dax looked at the bodies strewn around him. Some of their injuries didn’t look like much, but their bodies hardly moved with weak breaths.

“I don’t know, not a lot. I think I’m the only one conscious,” Dax replied.

He peeked through a hole in the steel to see shadows in the smoke headed their way.

“I heard them talking about Tylira. They’re headed after her. We need to warn her,” Dax added.

“They won’t be a threat to her. We’re sending a crew to assess you then…”

He was cut off. Sparks flew in the smoke like fireworks. Metal clanking metal rang out like church bells before a chorus of confused shouting joined the noise.

“For our ship!” Dax heard a Galio shout.

“Leave none standing,” a Dracolich added.

Dax’s helmet snapped shut. Plasma fire erupted in every direction among the clatter of metal on metal.

“On your six,” Dalia barked.

Dax pushed forward. He held the sheet of metal up while moving as quickly and quietly as he could. Valtukta rounds zipped past them. Some splashed against the metal, causing it to glow.

Getting closer to the brawl, Dax was able to make out more of the fighters. A ship’s guard was thrown from the scrum. He hit the ground, sliding to a stop on the ground next to Dax.

“Are you…” he started.

Dalia cut him off by grabbing the guard by his shoulder and picking him up.

“Shhh,” she hissed.

“Take my knife,” Dax whispered.

He glanced at the sheath on his hip.

“You can get them in the neck real easy with that.”

The guard took Dax’s weapon. He peered back through the hole to see a Valtukta lunging at him with a knife of his own. Dax’s heart skipped a beat. Before he knew it, his arms flew forward.

With a mighty clang, the Valtukta bounced off his piece of the floor. His suit absorbed the blow while his attacker fell to the ground. Before he could get up, the guard rushed around Dax and drove his blade into the soldier’s throat, resulting in a spurt of silver.

“Stay down!” Dalia roared.

Out of the miasma, another Valtukta rushed toward them. Dax lowered his makeshift shield, swinging it like a baton. Its edges dug into their attacker’s side. Sparks flew, metal groaned, and silver liquid spurted from the fresh wound while Dax followed through.

He released the sheet, sending the Valtukta onto the ground, a jagged piece of metal protruding from his motionless side. Dalia switched to one of Kane’s pistols. She stepped forward and fired at an outline of a Valtukta. Another spurt erupted in every direction before the body fell.

“Looks like we’re getting into a brawl,” Dalia said.

A hint of pleasure filled the growl as it left her lips. With a maniacal laugh, she lunged into the melee, joining the insanity while dwarfing everyone in the fight. Dax’s jaw tightened along with his chest, seeing her dive headlong into the fray.

A Valtukta almost immediately moved to stab her in the back. In the blink of an eye, Dax grabbed the enemy’s wrist with one hand. He drove his forearm into the attacker’s inner elbow before driving the intruder’s knife into his own ocular lens, shattering it.

He ripped the knife out, holding it in his left hand while letting the Valtukta drop. The glow of a rifle charging a shot cut through the smoke, aimed at Dalia. Dax leveled his pistol. Taking his shot first caused the rifle to fall to the ground, unfired.

“Dalia, keep your eyes up,” Dax shouted. “You’re an easy target.”

Dax’s body jolted forward. An impact warning flashed on his HUD. Turning, he saw a Valtukta with heavily damaged armor and a broken dagger in his hand. Terror filled what part of the invader’s face Dax could see through gaps in his helmet.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpered. “Mercy!”

“You stabbed me in the back,” Dax replied in the Valtukta language. “You don’t get to ask for mercy.”

Dax threw his head forward with all his might. The crack of their helmets colliding made his ears ring while the soldier who stabbed him in the back dropped to the ground.

15

DYING DOWN

Dozens of hands gripped and groped at Dax’s armor, slowing his movements down. He kicked, punched, headbutted and shot when he could without harming his unseen allies. The knife in his off hand was snapped and covered in liquid silver. Dalia’s roars of delight continued to fill the gradually thinning smoke before Valtukta soldiers would fall from the sky around him.

“A little help, Dalia!” he shouted.

Dax dropped the knife. He opened his hand, activating his magnetic glove. The Valtukta directly in front of his palm flew backward, striking a wall. Sparks erupted from his suit. Once Dax shut off the magnetic shove, the soldier landed on his feet and rushed at him once again.

“I’m running out of options here,” he yelled once again.

“Catch,” Dalia called back.

A primal roar cut through the sounds of battle. Dracolich armor soared across the field before crashing into the advancing Valtukta. The man in the familiar suit sprang to his feet. He rushed toward Dax. The only part of his body not covered were his claws.

A series of well-placed slashes freed Dax’s left hand from the Valtukta. He pointed his palm at those trying to get his pistol. Opening his palm, he blasted them off him before placing several well-placed shots into their helmets.

“Good to see you, Commander,” Dax called out.

He placed the gun at the base of an attacker’s neck, who attempted to shoulder barge him off his feet. Unmoving, Dax squeezed the trigger, ending the failed offensive.

“Not the commander,” Ruthnar replied. “He let me borrow his backup armor.”

“Even better.”

The butt of a rifle crashed into the side of Dax’s helmet. A damage warning flashed across his HUD. He turned, punching the Valtukta hard enough to dent his helmet.

“We’re a little outnumbered. Any idea how to get out of here?” Dax asked.

He kicked a second square in the chest. Firing, he shot a third before a plasma blast splashed across his chest. Dalia picked up the one who shot Dax. Lifting him over her head, she brought him down with all her might, spine first, on her knee. A gut-wrenching crack sounded from the fighter before he spun, landing motionless on the ground.

“Looks like his body broke before his spirit,” Dalia mused.

“He merely adopted the melee combat,” Dax chimed in. “You were born in it, molded by it. You didn’t see ranged fighting until you were already a woman. By then, it was nothing to you but boring!”

“You’re not wrong. Where’s an exit?”

Dax looked at his vambrace and the projected map above it. He pointed ahead of them and to their left.

“Pile in,” Dalia shouted.

She lowered her head. Like a living wrecking ball, she charged through several Valtukta like they weren’t even there. Dax rushed in behind her, followed quickly by Ruthnar.

“Fall in!” the Dracolich ordered. “Everyone fall in on my position.”

The ship’s security guards flooded toward the hole Dalia was making. If there was debris, it was kicked out of the way. Their unwelcome guests were flung into a wall, ceiling, or another Valtukta. If someone tried to block her path with a physical attack, she plowed over them, letting them get trampled by the dozen or so guards behind her.

Dax kept his eyes on the map. Once they reached the next corridor, he shouted left. She turned, leaving the cloud of smoke and the fight behind. Ruthnar stopped and placed his hand on the wall. Dax watched him count the guardsmen before pressing on a nearly imperceptible pad.

A Valtukta followed. He stopped at the edge of the corridor and pointed his rifle at Ruthnar’s head. The Dracolich waved at the alien imperial. A wall of steel dropped from the ceiling. It landed on the Valtukta, crumpling his battle suit like an empty soda can before making a seal on the ground.

“How are we looking?” Dax asked.

He scanned the corridor they’d fallen back to. Bodies of Valtakuntera soldiers and security guards littered the floor. A sinking feeling overtook Dax at the sheer number of dead. His heart ached while a flicker of anger came to life in his gut.

The tap of his knife against his shoulder pulled him back to the present. He looked down at a humanoid alien. Terror filled his gray eyes. Drying silver liquid covered his heavily damaged gear.

“Thank you,” he said. “This saved my life.”

He pulled at what was left of his helmet and dropped it to the ground. Dax took back his knife and slid it in its sheath.

“You’re welcome. You don’t look old enough to be in this fight.”

“It’s my first day.”

“Then you’ve fought enough. Get into one of the safe rooms. That’s an order.”

The boy nodded before sprinting down the hallway. Ruthnar approached Dax while looking over the remaining guards.

“Not good. We’ve lost forty-six percent of the ship and thirty-two percent of our security forces,” Ruthnar replied. “Rumor has it Tylira and her group are using crawl spaces to try and get to the delegation and assassinate them.”

“What are these rumors founded on?” Dalia asked.

“The fact that the scouts assigned to those spots haven’t reported in. That those who have gone quiet are along the same route that stretches from the last ship to board, all the way to the delegation.”

“Where are the delegates?” Dax asked.

Ruthnar tapped his wrist against Dax’s vambrace. A yellow dot appeared on the augmented reality display of the ship.

“You guys get as many injured and those with compromised armor as you can to safe rooms. The second you do, open the radiation gates. This ship will be lost otherwise. My team will go and protect the delegation.”

“Are you sure?” Ruthnar asked. “We can join you and help you catch her.”

“Even with her healing factor, she’s still Valtukta,” Dalia chimed in. “Her sensitivity to radiation wouldn’t have just vanished. Flood the ship. We’ll make sure there’s a hole in her armor big enough for the radiation to kill her.”

“I’ll initiate the flooding. Withdraw! I’ll find some Tardigs to send for reinforcements,” Ruthnar replied. “Move out!”

The Dracolich led what was left of his forces down the corridor and around a corner.

“Computer, reconnect with Kane and Sandrina,” he ordered.

He walked around Dalia, inspecting her armor for breaches while his suit encrypted and opened a channel. Gunfire rang out over the squawking radio. Dax flinched at the ear-ringing sound before his equipment compensated.

“We have actionable intel on where Tylira’s heading.”

“We’re a little preoccupied,” Kane countered.

More gunfire rang out, followed by several low grunts.

“Where are you?” Dalia asked.

“We’re pinned at a dead end and more Valtukta than we have ammo are closing in on our position.”

“Do you still have your guard?” Dax asked.

“He got taken out right before we got to cover,” Sandrina replied. “He’s in the middle of the Valtukta mob.”

Dax’s mind raced. He looked around the scattered remains of battle. Try as he might, no plan came to him while Dalia walked around.

“Send me your position. We’ll find a way to get to you,” he ordered.

“Location sent,” Kane replied.

A blue dot appeared on the map. Through a series of winding hallways, Kane and Sandrina were one deck up and two hundred yards in the opposite direction of their objective.

“Our mission is to protect the delegates. Go to them. We can handle ourselves,” Kane snarled, the ring of his M4 punctuating his words.

“It’s Tylira; we can’t take her on without you,” Dax countered. “Just hold tight, I’m estimating two minutes to you.”

An explosion caused his speakers to crackle. Dax’s heart nearly stopped. His breath caught in his throat before Sandrina swore in her native language.

“That’ll buy us a few more seconds,” she said. “Give me that other Valtukta gun. I’ll get us a little more.”

“That’s not the mission,” Kane argued.

“I’m emotionally invested in seeing that woman’s head on a pike. It’s my mission,” Sandrina countered.

“Dax,” Dalia shouted.

Her words pulled his focus. She stood with a blood-stained cloak wrapped like a bindle. Tied with its corners were two thermite explosives.

“I think I found a way to get them out,” she said.

Hope erupted within Dax. A shiver ran down his spine while a giddy smile pulled at his lips.

“Hang tight, guys. I think Dalia’s found a way to get to you.”

“I take it this means we’re going to need a bunker?” Kane asked.

“Not a bunker, but you’ll want to stay down,” Dax replied.

“If I die, I’d rather die by one of Dalia’s explosions than by these pointy-eared idiots,” Sandrina added.

The channel fell silent. Dax walked over to Dalia and took her makeshift explosive.

“You think that’ll do the trick?” she asked, reloading her Fat Mac.

“I think this’ll blow a hole in the hull of a ship if we aren’t careful. I love it. Stay close.”

They took off through the bowels of the ship. Dax dodged around bodies that littered the floor. He kept his attention locked on the mission at hand, not letting his mind wander to the heartbreaking carnage around them.

They rounded the second to last corner; three Valtukta scavenged bodies while piling up their own dead. One looked at them and went for his weapon. Dax leveled his pistol. His first shot hit a shoulder, his second grazed an arm. The third dropped the alien.

A flash of light and a muted explosion from behind burst the two who were lined up like a watermelon. They rushed past the bodies, passing under the location indicator for Sandrina and Kane.

“Are you feeling okay?” Dalia asked. “It usually doesn’t take you that many shots.”

“I’m also usually not mid-sprint when I shoot,” Dax countered.

He linked his radio channel with Kane’s to the sound of gunfire.

“You guys still alive?”

“Not for a lack of trying,” Kane replied.

With the flick of a finger, Dax activated one of the ordnances wrapped in the sticky cloth.

“I’d get down right about now if I were you,” Dax ordered.

With a spin of his arm, he slung the makeshift bomb at the ceiling. It hit with a splat, sticking to the metal. Turning on his heels, he sprinted past Dalia, grabbing her arm and pulling her along in the process.

“How big is it going to be?” Sandrina asked.

“Big enough to give you a window,” Dalia replied. “Or a real big hole.”

Once they put enough distance between the makeshift explosive and themselves, Dax stopped and turned back toward the bag Dalia made.

“How’d you make it sticky?” Dax asked.

“If I told you, you’d make me go to a place Mark once called therapy,” Dalia replied.

Dax’s helmet darkened, shielding his eyes from the otherwise blinding explosion of light. The first bomb went off. In a chain reaction, the other erupted. Watching it burn into the ceiling while dripping to the floor awoke a primal joy he hadn’t felt since he was a child watching a leaf burn for the first time.

Metal groaned under its compromised weight. With a screeching clatter, the ceiling broke free, dropping a platoon of burning Valtukta into the corridor with Dalia and Dax. He lifted his pistol, ready to shoot.

He lowered his pistol once the debris landed on their deck and punched straight through to the one below. Like a ravenous pit, it swallowed most of the Valtukta. Those that managed to stay on Dalia and Dax’s deck were quickly consumed by the still burning thermite.

Dax grimaced. He raised his pistol, and with several clean shots, put the invaders out of their misery.

“I think we may have just violated the Geneva Suggestion a little bit,” he grumbled.

“Geneva’s about four lightyears from here,” Kane countered. “I don’t think they’ll hear about this one.”

16

RACE

Kane bounced off a wall before hitting the ground. He grunted, stood back up and reloaded his M4 while Sandrina leapt spryly from the hole in the ceiling to the deck they were on.

“You didn’t have to hit me with the magnets,” Kane said, quickly checking his weapon.

“I didn’t want to lose you to a lower level,” Dax countered.

“Where are we headed?” Sandrina asked.

“You’re headed to one of the safe rooms,” Dalia explained. “Ruthnar is on his way to activate their failsafe. We don’t know how long, but soon, this ship is going to be flooded with radiation.”

“You’re going after Tylira, you’re going to need my help,” Sandrina countered.

“Yeah, probably because one of us is going to come back with some sort of stab injury if history is anything to learn from,” Dax replied. “But this was the deal. You hide when the power core doors open. Now’s your time to hide.”

Sandrina let out a frustrated growl. Kane wrapped an arm around her and pressed his helmet against hers.

“We’ll see you shortly, I promise. Now, get to a safe room.”

The Bastet hugged Kane back. She took a half step back and looked at Dax.

“Where are they?” she asked reluctantly.

Dax looked at his map before pointing across the smoldering hole.

“Straight ahead,” he replied.

“I expect you two to keep this one safe,” she said, pointing from Dax and Dalia to Kane.

“If anything, he keeps us safe,” Dalia replied.

“Yeah, he’s the dad of the group. Now go get to safety, Mom,” Dax teased.

Sandrina turned and carefully maneuvered around the hole in the floor. Kane approached Dax and motioned to the vambrace.

“It looks like this may be the fastest route,” he said.

With a flick of his finger, Dax watched Kane draw a line from their position to the delegation.

“How can you see my map?” Dax asked.

“It wouldn’t exactly be useful if your HUD was the only one that picked up on the vambrace readings,” Dalia chimed in. “Mark made upgrades so we all can see it. You’re just the only one that has the hardware to produce the image.”

“Good to know. Do me a favor, though. If I’m ever knocked out, just take the vambrace off and don’t actually amputate my arm to get your maps.”

“No promises,” Dalia teased.

“We have a very angry, very murder-happy woman closing in on the people we were tasked to protect. Can you two stop flirting for just a few minutes so we can get this job done?” Kane asked.

“Are you jealous?” Dax asked, looking at Dalia. “I think he’s jealous.”

“He really is,” she teased.

With a frustrated grumble and a roll of his eyes, Kane pushed past them and started down the path he’d picked.

“Will you two just come on, and check in with Mark. Let’s make sure he hasn’t caused too much trouble.”

They backtracked as quickly as they could. Kane ensured they stayed in line and pressed against a wall while covering each other from potentially unseen enemies. Reaching corners, Kane moved like he’d done a million times before. Dax couldn’t help but admire the fluidity of each step, how the soldier was quiet, even compared to himself.

“Mark here,” the pilot called out, their radios connecting. “How are things looking on your end?”

“They’re about to open the power core and flood the ship with radiation,” Dax replied. “There’s a full retreat for non-Tardig guards. How are things looking out there?”

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this; the fighters have retreated. They’re just letting what’s left of the security core disable their boarding craft,” Mark replied.

“I calculate there’s an eighty-four percent chance they’re going to detonate those vessels and cut their losses,” Jun chimed in.

“What about the hidden carrier?” Dalia asked.

They rushed toward a door stuck a few feet off the ground. Shards of metal and debris piled under it, propping it up. Kane dropped to his side, doing a baseball slide, sparks jumping from his tarnished armor before he popped up on the far side.

“Clear,” he called out.

“It’s still hiding, just like us,” Mark replied.

“Good, keep doing what you’re doing. We’ll keep you posted.”

“Same here,” Mark replied.

Dax stopped next to the door. He waved at the Dal’no to go first while watching her back. Dalia dropped to the ground and rolled under. A contingent of Valtukta appeared on the far side of the deck, dimly lit by the flickering emergency lights.

“Not clear on this side,” Dax barked.

They all raised their rifles, opening fire on Dax. He dropped to the ground. Bolts pelted the steel around him, scorching and partially melting it. Dalia stuck the Fat Mac through the opening and fired.

Her brass solid ripped through the approaching horde. Dax rolled under the five feet of steel. Once clear, he grabbed Dalia and pulled her back. A rogue plasma round zipped under the door and struck his shoulder. He didn’t need the temperature warning. It sent a wave across his upper arm.

“Push!” Dax barked.

Kane drew his left arm back. Dax extended his. Both men opened their palms. Kane kept his feet. Dax, still supine, skidded across the ground. Sparks flew from him. He twisted his body, keeping his arm pointed at the shifting rubble.

With a violent jolt, his feet crashed into the wall, pinning him in place. The shards of metal that held the door up were thrown at the encroaching soldiers. Once cleared, the door slammed shut, cutting both parties off.

“You good?” Kane asked.

Dax deactivated his gauntlet. Before he could sit up, Dalia was at his side. Like an impatient parent picking up a toddler, she ripped him onto his feet by his arm. Inspecting the scorched metal, he nodded.

“I’m good. It lost enough energy before it hit to do anything.”

“What about suit integrity?” she asked. “That was a direct hit.”

“Yes, from a hundred yards away; my integrity is only down by, like, two percent.”

“I wouldn’t say that. You have a lot of integrity,” Kane teased.

Dax turned toward Kane. He deactivated the OGRE skull on his domed helmet to show the exaggerated expression that spread across his features.

“Really? Jokes, coming from Mr. Get the Mission Done?”

“I’m always up to have a good time,” Kane countered.

“Yeah, but that’s usually only attached to a bad idea,” Dalia joined in.

“We’re currently using ourselves as live bait for the most dangerous person in the galaxy, in a heavily compromised ship with an intentionally leaky radioactive core and no effective way to escape. What part of that seemed like a good idea to any of you in the first place?”

“If it was such a bad idea, why’d you let us get this far with it?” Dax asked.

He kicked a Valtukta corpse at his feet.

“Seemed fun.” Kane chuckled.

A sarcastic numbness filled Dax. He held his tongue. Everything he wanted to say would’ve sounded pedantic. He retracted his helmet. The stench of burned flesh, plastic and melted metal tainted his nostrils. He fought the stomach-turning hint of burned hair before reaching for his hip.

Dax pulled the radioactive case from his side. Sliding its top open, he held it to his face and took a deep breath, intensifying the horrid smell of battle around him. Warmth radiated from it, burning his nostrils, throat and lungs.

“Why can’t this stuff have a scent?” he complained. “This ship smells horrible.”

A fit of coughs crawled through him, causing his body to heave. After a few seconds, he felt the lump at the back of his throat begin to grow. Dax summoned his helmet, put the case back on his hip and lifted his left arm and pointed at the delegation dot.

“We’ve got a job to get done,” he said.

“Do you have any idea how much cancer you just gave yourself?”

Dax looked at his HUD reading. His breath alone was reading radioactive to a borderline dangerous level.

“If I get rid of it before long, it shouldn’t be permanent,” Dax replied.

“How long?” Dalia asked.

He picked up a hint of concern in her tone.

“Computer, with regenerative data you have on me, how long do I have before the damage is irreversible?” Dax asked.

A split second later, the number fifteen popped up.

“Fifteen minutes, that’s plenty of…”

He trailed off. Hours appeared beside the number before vanishing. He let out a chuckle, sending the in-suit Geiger counter crazy.

“If I haven’t spat this radiation out by the time it causes irreversible damage, then it’s my own dumb fault. It’s in hours. Now, let’s get going.”

Dax pushed past them. Kane and Dalia followed closely behind. Evidence of dozens of individual firefights scorched the walls. Ash from those whose armor failed would’ve made the ground slick if not for the tremendous weight of their gear. As they approached the delegation dot, an incoming transmission from Ruthnar blinked in the corner of his vision. With a glance, he answered it.

“What’s cracking?” Dax asked.

“A whole lot of stuff, I imagine. Are you there yet?”

“Almost, why?”

“We’re getting readings that the sealed-off shafts that lead into the delegation safe room are having a spike in temperatures.”

“They’re cutting through the metal?”

“Most likely.”

“Where are we on irradiating the ship?”

“Without one of our VIP’s here to override, there’s a ten-minute countdown,” Ruthnar replied.

“And Tardig backup?” Dax asked.

“They’re trying to make it to you, but they’re running into a lot of Valtukta resistance.”

Dax rounded a corner, his pistol raised, ready to fire. No living person occupied the corridor in front of them.

“You’re telling me we’re on our own for this?”

“Unless I have something to say about it, yes. I’m going to try and flank the Valtukta and punch a hole for the Tardig to come help you.”

“No, we can handle this on our own. Just get to a safe room immediately. I don’t want you caught up in the flood.”

Ruthnar let out a battle cry while gunfire rang out on his end before shutting off the channel.

“Ruthnar? Ruthnar, answer me!” Dax barked.

The line remained silent.

“He’s smart, he’ll get to shelter,” Dalia pointed out.

Dax looked at his map. One more turn and they’d be at their destination. Once rounding the corner, Dax stopped. An eerie stillness settled over the battle-worn ship. He looked around the large three-way intersection. No bodies littered the floor, no scorch marks tainted the polished metal.

“Activate thermal filter,” Dax whispered.

His helmet shifted. Almost everything was uniform in color save a bright red spot under the floor against the wall in front of them.

“Remove filter,” Dax ordered.

He holstered his pistol. Grabbing his knife with one hand and the radioactive canister with the other, he gingerly walked to the panel with all the heat underneath.

“They’re here,” Dax said, pointing at the ground.

“Square up,” Kane ordered.

He and Dalia turned their backs to Dax. They raised their weapons, scanning the floor and other three corridors. Kneeling, Dax ran his fingers across the panel on the floor. Finding a seam, he ran the Dal’no blade across it.

Its edge hooked a gap. With a quick push, he dug his weapon into the panel’s edge. With a twist of his wrist, it popped free. He slid the hunk of metal to the side, greeted by a bright flare of light from a torch and two Valtukta, in tactical gear, side by side.

“Hello there,” Dax mused.

“OGRE, OGRE!” one of them shouted.

“I believe what you’re actually looking for is,” Dax cleared his throat, putting on his best cyborg voice, “General Kenobi.”

With a slash of his knife, he cut the top off his radioactive canister, sending his Gieger counter crazy. He dropped the block into the crawl space, grabbed the cover and slid it back into place before drawing his pistol. Screams and thuds rose from the floor, making several panels jump.

“They’re coming out of the gorram floors!” Kane barked.

“Oh, that one you get?” Dax taunted, standing back up.

17

DEFEND

Paneling erupted from the ground. Dozens of Valtukta began to emerge, their armor unfolding around them from boxes attached to their ankles. Screams rose from a third of them while the radiation ravaged their bodies, having already started melting their skin.

Kane fired his rifle at those not yet affected by the radiation. His rounds threaded the gaps in their closing suits with the precision of the angel of death. If a shot wasn’t a kill, it incapacitated the fighter.

Dax took his chance to shoot at several. One was a clean shot; the rest narrowly clipped the highly polished armor’s edges. His rounds dispersed, burning those he missed but not killing them.

“Crap, new material,” Dax snarled.

Dalia lifted her Fat Mac and pointed it at the back of the line where Tylira emerged. Her armor snapped closed around her revealing a white human skull painted on her helmet. Two blue bolts of light flew at her, striking her helmet.

Her head whipped back while they splashed into a harmless cloud behind the Death Squad leader. He couldn’t see her eyes, but he felt the daggers she was staring at him.

“Are you freaking kidding me?!” Dax squawked.

Dalia fired at Tylira. One of the Death Squad members threw themselves in front of their leader. Sparks flew, the breastplate dented, and spalling erupted in every direction while the assassin flew back into Tylira.

“Please tell me that wasn’t a solid brass,” Kane grumbled.

The fighter she shot grunted. He pulled himself off Tylira and stood back up. Dax’s mouth turned dry. A pit formed in his stomach while the lump in his throat grew larger. The assassin drew a pistol from one side and a knife from the other, along with the rest of the killers.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dax saw Dalia reload. She raised her rifle and fired again. Unlike previous rounds, this one threw her back several feet. The assassin’s helmet caved in. His body was thrown to the ground with his neck at an unnatural angle while a wall of thick steel bent from deflected impact.

“That first one was,” Dalia replied.

She pulled a muted gray round from her bandolier and loaded it into the Fat Mac.

“The second one was tungsten.”

She raised the rifle and took aim at Tylira once again.

“Bring me their heads,” the Death Squad leader ordered.

The remaining assassins rushed at them. Dalia fired, killing another through compressing his breastplate. The deflected bullet struck another, cracking his helmet but not slowing him down.

Dax slid his pistol into its holster before switching to his borrowed rifle. Kane lowered the M4 and drew his temporary weapon as well. One swung a knife at Kane. He grabbed the Valtukta’s wrist. In one fluid motion, he flipped the dark armored man onto the ground, activated the magnets in his boot and pinned the arm hand to the floor.

“You think the armpit trick’ll work this time?” he shouted.

Kane shot another fighter who closed in on him. The blast exploded like a firework against the new breastplate, staggering him, unarmed.

“I very much doubt it,” Dax replied.

He lowered his rifle while Dalia took another shot. Dax rushed toward Kane’s side. He dropped to one hip, slid between Dax’s legs and planted his boot into the helmet of the pinned Valtukta. Before coming to a stop, he slammed the Dal’no blade into the inner elbow. It was stopped by the armor halfway through. Silver oozed from the wound accompanied by a scream and the dropping of the Death Squad knife.

“This might, though.”

Dax grabbed the obsidian blade and tossed it to Kane, who lifted his magnetic lock. With a quick flick of his eyes, Dax reversed the polarity of his boots. The generated field flung the Valtukta across the ground, spinning him like a top while sending Dax out from under Kane’s legs.

“Dalia, your three!” Dax barked.

A Death Squad member lunged at her, his knife at the ready. She dropped her shoulder and the butt of her gun. The stab sliced through nothing but air while sailing between her arms.

With a twist of her arms, she hooked her gun’s barrel under the Valtukta’s jaw. Dax climbed to his feet while she threw her entire weight into twisting his neck. With a gut-wrenching crack, she flung the limp attacker at Dax. He ducked, narrowly dodging it while the body crashed into another.

Rounds of black light zipped through the air with an electric hum. They punched holes in Dalia’s cloak as she moved as fast as her suit would let her. Dax rolled forward, grabbing the dropped pistol of the dead man.

Hopping to his feet, he was met with a pistol to his face. Squeezing his trigger first, the stolen weapon let out a high-pitched whine. Dax’s HUD registered a critically rapid increase in heat.

“Oh, come on!” he huffed.

Tilting his head to the side, he narrowly dodged the point-blank head shot. With all his might, he smashed the pistol into the Valtukta’s helmet. The darkened visor cracked.

Turning, Dax threw the pistol at a group of Death Squad shooting at Kane. The soldier held a Valtukta in place in front of him while the new ammunition ripped through their attacker’s armor.

The pistol detonated in a ball of black flames, throwing the Valtukta back while distracting the others. Summoning every ounce of strength he could, he drove the Dal’no blade into the crack of his opponent’s visor. It gave way, letting the knife slide through the protective barrier into the nougaty center.

Before he could pull the knife out, his head snapped to one side. A crack stretched across his helmet, deactivating his HUD. With a yank of his knife, he pulled his dead opponent in front of him while Tylira and two other Death Squad members opened fire on him.

“Watch out, they hit harder than space debris,” Dax shouted.

“I’m well aware of that,” Kane grunted.

Dax extended his left hand toward the Valtukta’s knife that lay on the ground. Activating the magnet in his gauntlet, he felt a pull toward the floor while the weapon stayed put.

“Of course they’d make them non-magnetic,” he snarled.

Dalia’s cannon rang out once more, killing another invader. Dax watched her flip it around and use it like a club to knock another off his feet. She jumped into the trench made by the lifted panels. Grabbing Death Squad pistols, she squeezed the triggers before pelting them at groups of their attackers. The detonations threw them to the floor, dealing minor scratches to their void-black armor.

With rounds no longer peppering his Valtukta shield, Dax pulled his knife out of the helmet and sheathed it. He grabbed the Death Squad knife and charged Tylira who stood motionless, watching the fight. The Death Squad member to her left with the cracked face plate rushed Dax.

He raised his pistol and fired. Dax extended his left hand and opened his fingers. The magnetic repulsive blast sent three fighters trying to regain their footing back to the ground. It pushed the man, charging him back a few feet while slowing, but not disbursing the plasma shot.

It struck the upper left side of his breastplate like a sledgehammer. His suit locked, preventing him from losing ground while compensators prevented the force from impacting his chest. A damage report warning sounded through his suit with a failed flickering of a notification on the cracked helmet.

He glanced down to see a glowing, smoldering hole where the center of his lung would be. The death guard took aim at him again. Dax curled his fingers and yanked. His feet remained planted while the Valtukta was pulled forward.

Dax flipped the alien weapon to a reverse grip. Clenching his fingers as tightly as he could, he drove every ounce of strength he could muster from his feet and up his body. He launched the strongest punch he could summon at the Death Squad helmet. His knuckles impacted, sending a reverberation up his arm accompanied by a tingle.

Black glass shattered. Pulling back, Dax freed his hand, leaving a defiantly angry Valtukta staring at him with a bloody nose. Throwing his left hand to the side, he flung the Valtukta into the trench they’d made on their emergence, now fully irradiated.

“Dax is hit!” Dalia shouted.

Another bone-crunching snap filled the air before a broken Valtukta body was flung across the battlefield.

“I’m good, but I can’t handle a second shot,” Dax countered. “Keep fighting!”

He pulled the Dal’no knife out with his free hand. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a pistol aimed at him. He spun, threw his Dal’no knife and accelerated it with the magnetic gauntlet.

It struck the soldier in his shoulder, throwing off his aim and sending a round sailing into the air. Dax tried to pull the knife back. It only yanked the Death Squad member toward him.

The assassin yanked Dax’s knife out of his shoulder and threw it to the ground. Dax’s left hand moved to the rifle hanging at his side. He grabbed the grip, raised it in front of him and opened fire on the damaged armor.

He squeezed the handle as tightly as he could. One-arming a weapon meant for two made his shots be less accurate than he’d like. Plasma rounds splashed harmlessly against the protective barrier. The additional radiation managed to seep into the breach, making the Valtukta scream and thrash violently before falling to the ground.

“It doesn’t take much,” Dax called out.

He lowered the rifle and pulled his knife back into his hand. The wave of frustration that nearly overwhelmed him quickly subsided.

“Just put a hole in the armor and get a few shots in the area. The radioactive attachments will do the rest,” he added.

A fist came across his helmet, knocking him to one side and further cracking the protective barrier. Dax caught his footing and turned toward his attacker. A Valtukta the size of Dalia marched ominously toward him.

“At last, a worthy opponent!” Dalia shrieked.

“If I were you, I’d start running,” Dax said in Valtukta, tightening his fingers around his knives.

“Or what?” the large man replied.

“Our battle will be legendary!” Dalia added.

The heavy clomping of her boots shook the ground under foot.

“Or you’ll get Tai Lung’ed,” Dax replied.

“No, just his lungs tied,” Dalia countered.

The large Death Squad member turned to look at Dalia just in time for her to lunge at him. She speared him with her shoulder, throwing them both to the ground.

“You and Kane take on Tylira,” Dalia added. “I’ve got the rest.”

Dax turned toward the Death Squad leader. Kane drove two knives he’d picked up into two of the handful of remaining Valtukta. He slung them into the radioactive trench, leaving their screams to rapidly fade.

Three knives stuck out of Kane’s armor. One in each shoulder and the last in his leg. Dax made his way toward the soldier. He handed his Death Squad knife to him.

“Hold this for me,” Dax said.

Kane took the blade. Dax grabbed one of the knives in Kane’s shoulder and yanked to a grunt. He handed the second weapon to him.

“Mind holding that one too?” Dax asked.

“Stop playing around and get it done,” Kane snarled.

Dax grabbed the knife in his other shoulder. He yanked it out and dropped it to the ground while Kane let out another groan of pain. With the last blade yanked from Kane’s leg, he grumbled a curse.

“Can’t you be a little more gentle?” he snarled.

“When I was half your age, I got cut to the bone in both my thigh and arm and didn’t fuss this much. You’ll be fine,” Dax replied. “Now what do you say we kill the woman who’s just sitting there, waiting for our gear to wear down before she actually gets involved?”

“I could go for a pointy-ear murder,” Kane replied.

18

ATTACK

Dax and Kane rushed Tylira. Through the cracks in his helmet, he heard the servos in her suit whir to life. Her right foot shifted on the ground. Recognizing the stance change from Kane’s lessons, Dax ducked. The black blur of her left foot sliced through the air where his head once was.

Kane rushed in for a stab. Tylira deflected the attack with one hand while sending her other knife toward his ribs. Dax dropped the Dal’no weapon and opened his left palm, slowing their opponent’s arm long enough for the old soldier to block the attack.

“It’s going to be that kind of fight,” Dax snarled.

Tylira kicked forward. Her boot rattled Dax’s breastplate, knocking him back. He grabbed the knife Dalia gave him while throwing his weight backward into a somersault.

Popping back onto his feet, he sheathed his knife while readying the Death Squad one. Tylira got hold of Kane. She spun, slinging him at Dax with all her might.

“Slingshot,” Kane barked.

Dax dropped to the ground, letting the soldier sail over him. Both men extended their left hands, their palms less than a foot away from each other. Kane’s body whipped to a stop in the air before being pulled toward Dax.

“Please work, please work, please work,” Dax shouted.

He threw his arm forward with all his strength while Kane yanked on his. They both deactivated their gauntlets at the same time, sending Kane flying back at Tylira. With a quick spin, she planted her heel into the center of his back, driving him into the ground before he reached her.

“Good try,” Kane wheezed.

Dax charged Tylira. His breaths were deep and steady, letting his slamming heart perfuse the oxygen his muscles screamed for. The Death Squad leader brought her knife down toward the back of Kane’s head.

“Not today,” Dax snarled.

Using the dump of adrenaline, he charged Tylira. Time slowed while colors warped, giving the obsidian suits an almost shimmering rainbow effect like water coated with oil.

Lowering his shoulder, he drove it into her stomach. His left hand magnetically sealed to one thigh while he drove his dagger into the only spot on her leg without the odd shimmer. It punched through, letting silver ooze out while she let out a shriek of rage. Dax drove her toward the wall, feeling small impacts on the thick back plate of his suit.

‘Get to the wall before she gets through,’ he thought to himself. ‘Get a bit larger break, you only get one shot at this. Don’t let her go!’

Dax moved his head to the side, slamming her into the corner of the corridor they’d walked in from. His head barely missed the wall while its sharp angle crumpled behind Tylira. She let out another scream before landing an elbow to the back of his helmet, cracking it more.

He felt her body heave, moving in for another strike. Dax turned the knife in her thigh, delaying what would certainly break his head protection. He ripped it out while pushing off her.

Dax staggered back, only for Tylira to slash at him. He leaned even further away from her; the tip of her knife sparked against Dax’s breastplate, leaving a shallow line cut across it.

M4 fire rang out while sparks jumped off Tylira’s left leg. Spalling and plasma splash flew everywhere, some even harmlessly striking Dax’s suit. Tylira hissed. She turned to throw her knife at Kane. Dax drew his Bastet pistol and joined in the fire, his blue bolts doing nothing to her armor.

“I’m going to rip off your head and drink from your pathetic skull!” Tylira screeched.

She threw her knife at Dax’s head. He dodged, ceasing fire just long enough to give her an opening to charge him. Dax dropped his pistol, kicking it away before blocking a punch aimed at his helmet.

“That’d only be acceptable if my name was Phillip, which it isn’t,” Dax said.

Kane stopped shooting. Tylira tried to knee him in the side. Dax dropped an arm, blocking it with his elbow. He felt the blow through his protective gear. Pushing the concern out of his mind, he ducked under another punch while delivering his other elbow into the Valtukta’s side. She staggered backward.

“And only if you’re drinking orange juice and champagne from it,” Dax added.

“What do those parameters have to do with anything?” Tylira snarled.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dax saw Dalia’s ferocious fight with her opponent coming to a rapid end in her favor, while Kane charged the Valtukta’s blind spot.

“If I’m going to have my skull drunk from, it’d better be for the best freaking pun in the galaxy,” Dax explained. “Unlike you, who, once we’re done with you, we’re going to throw into the sun to make sure you can’t come back.”

“You’re like a cockroach,” Kane added.

This drew her attention to the charging soldier. She turned to defend against him, giving Dax an opening. He rushed in, knife at the ready. With a knee, she knocked Kane to one side.

She moved in a black blur, knocking Dax’s arm across his body to spin his back toward her. A brief wave of panic gripped the professor. One clean shot was all someone like her needed.

‘Don’t give her an opening. This is insane,’ he thought.

His mind jumped to the only logical move, activating his magnetic boots. The repulsing boost flipped him horizontally into the air. Spinning himself, he aimed his heel at her faceplate.

Tylira drew another knife, lifting it for him to kick into. A clang threw her off balance. The blade moved just enough to sail over Dax’s ankle. He made contact with her wrist first before driving his heel into her face.

Mid spin, he saw Kane on the floor, delivering the same kick to her legs. A spark of joy flared within Dax that was quickly snuffed out. While her faceplate chipped, she used the momentum of their attacks to spin herself through the air.

Her knife pierced Kane’s bracer while a boot made contact with Dax’s gut. He flew to the side, rolling to a stop while a pain that was somehow sharp and dull radiated through his belly.

In the blink of an eye, he was back on his feet to see Kane twist his own arm to break Tylira’s grip on her knife. He spun, kicking away from her with the enhancements of his boots. She staggered, he slid, putting them a safe distance away from each other.

Behind them, Dalia twisted the Death Squad helmet before ripping it off. A mutated, angry face of what was once a Valtukta snarled at Dalia.

“Is that an Uruk-hai?” Dalia asked. “The way you described them, that’s what an Uruk-hai looks like.”

“They were elves once, twisted and tortured into something darker,” Dax replied.

Tylira and Kane climbed back to their feet. Kane pulled the knife from his arm. Blood dripped for a few seconds before stopping.

“Will you two stop Tolkien?” Kane asked. “Get back into the fight!”

Almost before he finished, radiation alarms started to sound accompanied by a countdown to flooding. Tylira froze. She looked around as the handful of surviving members of her team slowly recovered.

“This is the part where she runs away,” Dax growled.

“She would’ve run already if Dalia wasn’t preoccupied,” Kane replied.

“If the Dal’no wasn’t preoccupied, all three of you would be dead by now,” Tylira sneered, puffing out her chest. “I know your weaknesses. It’s only a matter of time before…”

She turned and sprinted down the corridor Dax had come. Dax took off after her as fast as he could.

“Kane, get to a safe room. Your suit’s compromised,” he barked.

With a frustrated growl, the soldier turned and rushed the opposite direction, speeding past Dalia.

“Computer, open a channel to Ruthnar, or the commander, whoever’s still available,” Dax ordered.

“This is the captain of the Intrepid. Who is on this secure line?” a gravelly voice asked.

“My name is Dax. I’m part of the human crew assigned to fight off the Valtukta,” Dax replied.

He hurdled over a mound of bodies. His legs pumped as fast as they could, causing Dax’s heart to pound while taking deep, even breaths.

“I need you to track my position and seal every corridor I pass through. Locate where each Valtukta ship has pierced the hull and lock those sections off as well.”

“Why?” the captain asked.

“Because I know this woman. She’s going to withdraw her ships and cause explosive decompression to this vessel, killing as many people as she can. If you seal the decks, it’ll limit damage to places everyone’s already evacuated.”

“I will do our best. Their scans implanted our system with a virus that stopped us from initiating those protocols in the first place.”

“I don’t need your best, I need it done,” Dax countered.

A rogue knife whistled through the air at him. Dax dropped to his hip and slid under the whirling weapon. Hopping back up, he continued to press forward.

“Either that or we’re all dead,” Dax added.

The line fell silent. Seeing a Death Squad knife on the ground, he kicked it as hard as he could. It flipped through air, sticking itself into Tylira’s shoulder. She stumbled, let out a scream, caught herself and reached back for the knife.

“Computer, connect to Mark,” Dax ordered.

She pulled the blade free and blindly flung it at him. With a sidestep, he dodged the blade before pulling his pistol and unloading at Tylira’s shoulder. The rounds splashed harmlessly off her armor while more screams of pain erupted from her skull-addled helmet.

“What’s crackin’, ma jackin’?” Mark asked.

“Don’t call me that,” Dax said.

He holstered his pistol, securing it to his suit while continuing to run.

“Sorry, what d’ya need?”

“Lock on to my suit. Something tells me I’m going to need a deep space rescue,” Dax ordered.

“Initiating lock on,” Mark replied. “The hidden ship’s engines have come online. What do you want me to do about that?”

“Put a round through the center of its hull and pray you kill command before you save my hide.”

Tylira rounded a corner, Dax following closely behind. One of the boarding ships filled the outer hull in front of them. Dax’s heart skipped a beat, seeing Tylira stop. A wave of heat surged through the ship while the alarms continued to blare. The Valtukta dropped to her knees as a series of heavy thuds sealed the damaged corridors.

Her voice was so loud, it cut through her helmet and over the screaming alarms. The muscles in Dax’s legs started to burn. He sped up, closing the distance between them while intentionally hyperventilating himself, nearly on top of her.

“Pull it out now!” Sandrina screamed.

Tylira turned. She jolted in surprise. Dax threw himself at her while an ear-splitting screech filled the ship. The seal gave, causing a violent gust of wind to yank the boarding vessel into space.

Dax wrapped his arms around Tylira just as the decompression pulled them into the void as well. Flipping head over heels, he clenched his arms around her, activating his magnetic gauntlet to bind them together while pinning one of her arms to her side.

“That’s what your mom should’ve said,” Dax roared back.

19

DECOMPRESS

Lights from the two cruisers filled the darkness. Debris from a ferocious dogfight littered the area around them. A nebula of twisting pillars of purple and red light provided a peaceful backdrop to an otherwise brutal canvas of war.

“All you’ve done is kill everyone,” Tylira snarled, her voice crackling over his radio.

“A price worth paying if I can take you with me,” Dax countered.

“I don’t die today; I planned for this and your recklessness.”

A flash of light cut through the nebula, followed by a series of smaller explosions.

“And my team found that backup plan,” Dax sneered.

A sense of pride welled within his chest. An incoherent scream of rage erupted from her trembling helmet. She leaned back and smashed her helmet into his, causing the cracks to spread even further.

“Mark, tell me you’re on your way,” Dax said.

“Just cleaning up some stragglers,” the pilot replied.

Several more explosions pierced the veil of light.

“Stop that! Open the cargo bay and start heading my way because I’m about to lose the structural integrity of my helmet,” Dax countered.

Tylira slammed her head into his again.

“What?!” Dalia screeched.

“It’s okay, it’s part of the plan. Normal humans can survive for up to thirty seconds in a vacuum. I’m guessing our enhancements can buy me a few more seconds. But I would greatly appreciate not testing that theory.!

“On our way,” Mark replied, the usual giddiness in his voice gone.

“You think your friends will save you?” Tylira chuckled. “They’ll just pick both of us up, and I’ll kill them too.”

“No, you won’t,” Dax mused, tightening his grip on the knife behind her back. “You’ll have your own things to worry about.”

Dax took one last deep breath before completely emptying his lungs. Tylira leaned back for a final headbutt. The lump in the back of his throat vanished, accompanied by a warm sensation filling his mouth.

With one last strike, the internal pressures of Dax’s suit started to crack away at his helmet. He raised the dagger and stabbed it into Tylira’s face plate. A hiss of air shot from the hole, changing their trajectory, sending them tumbling in another direction.

Explosive decompression sent the human skull-painted faceplate and the knife swirling into the darkness. Dax grabbed the inside of her helmet. He took the split-second his helmet still held to enjoy the terror that filled her face before closing his eyes as tightly as he could.

A gust of wind enveloped him, accompanied by a cold he’d never felt before. His eardrums crackled, accompanied by sharp pains he pushed out of his mind. The heat in his mouth pulled toward his nasal cavity while writhing in his mouth.

Dax pulled Tylira’s helmet against his face. Pricks of glass dug into his forehead and chin. He ignored them, focusing on holding on to the thrashing Death Squad leader while they tumbled uncontrollably through space.

He opened a small gap in his lips. His radioactive saliva surged from the formerly sealed gap. It stung his cracking lips before sloshing into Tylira’s helmet. Her muted panic dramatically increased.

Dax unfurled his arm, his palm still stuck to her back. Curling his fingers out repulsed Tylira, launching them away from each other. He drifted through the serenity of space. Despite the burn of freezing skin, pin-like stabs of blood vessels popping in his tightly shut eyes and bursting eardrums, he took a moment to drink in its serenity while appreciating the seal that prevented decompression across the rest of his body.

As his consciousness started to ebb away, a pair of arms wrapped around him. He refrained from opening his eyes, knowing Tylira was at least a quarter mile away from them.

Warmth kissed his frigid skin, accompanied by a violent hiss of air easing the sharp pain in his ears, resulting in a high-pitched ringing. His eyes stopped hurting and his splitting lips only throbbed, with no new damage.

Air filled his nostrils, forcing its way into him. Dax instinctively took a sharp, deep breath, filling his chest like a starving man would his belly. The darkness that pulled at the edges of his consciousness vanished. His eyes shot open to a blurry world and a Valtukta helmet staring down at him.

Terror gripped him through the fog of oxygen deprivation. His hand went for the Dal’no blade at his side. In a flash, the helmet retracted, revealing Henuva. The terror quickly subsided.

“You need to stop spacing yourself,” the friendly Valtukta suggested. “It’s profoundly dangerous and more than a little unhinged.”

Dax planted his feet before breaking out of Henuva’s hold. The ship tilted and spun around him. He staggered, reaching for a wall while his senses fought to return.

“I need to get to the main deck,” he muttered.

Dax clambered toward the ladder. Henuva protested but he couldn’t make the words out through the increasing ringing of his ears. Grabbing the ladder, he ascended as quickly as he could. Each rung felt like it took a lifetime to conquer. He looked up to see PITA peering down at him, impatiently doing tippy-taps.

From the expression and the muffled noises coming from him, Dax assumed the corgi was saying something snarky and insulting. Once he was within range, PITA bit down on the collar of his armor and violently yanked him onto the main deck before letting go.

“Sorry I’m taking so long,” Dax shouted, unable to hear his own voice.

He sat up, the blurred world returning to normal. Rising to his feet, everything stopped spinning but the ringing in his ears was slow in lessening. Dax stepped over PITA before lumbering onto the main deck. Stopping himself on the back of Mark’s chair, he pointed at the glistening field of debris in front of them.

“Tylira’s out there. Scan for a high concentration of radioactivity and blast it out of the sky.”

Mark looked up at him. His mouth moved, but damaged eardrums weren’t able to translate the noise.

“I can’t hear you,” Dax shouted.

Mark winced before saying something else.

“You sound like the adults in Charlie Brown. Now’s our best chance to make sure Tylira’s dead. Shoot her!”

Mark rolled his eyes. His fingers glided across one of his screens. After, he sat back and pointed at his work.

“Read this, Robert Muldoon, since you can’t listen. Another ship picked her up. The radiation signature we detected was enough to kill a normal human in less than an hour. Unfortunately…”

Mark waved his hand in front of Dax’s face before pointing out the window. The last of the Valtakuntera fighters flooded into their command ship. Its doors shut, and in the blink of an eye, it vanished, shifting to a red hue before completely disappearing.

“Without a body, she’s not dead,” Dax said.

“Will you stop yelling, for the love of all that is holy!” Mark barked.

His words were still muffled, but Dax could make them out.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “What’s the situation on the delegation ship?”

Mark turned the Junkyard around. A pit formed in his stomach at sight of the freighter. Holes were gouged all the way down its length. What running lights were on flickered at the lack of power. Debris drifted listlessly around it, lending an eerie sense to the image.

“What’s the situation down there?” Dax asked.

“The USS Ishimura wannabe appears to be stable,” PITA replied.

Henuva joined the group, looking at scan results on the other side of Mark.

“It’s not going anywhere anytime soon, but it’s solid. Anti-radiation measures appear to have been deployed. It’ll be safe to go roam around what’s left of the ship after we get back there,” the Valtukta explained.

“Mark,” Dalia’s voice rang over the radio. “Mark, did you catch him?”

“I’m right here,” Dax replied. “I’m fine.”

“Good, because I’m going to pummel you for that!” she shouted.

“What about Tylira?” Kane asked. “Did you get her?”

“We don’t have a body, but I got the entire payload of radioactivity inside her helmet before Mark picked me up,” Dax explained.

“It was enough to make our sensors pick up on it as a dangerous source,” Mark added. “She did get picked up before I could ensure her inability to regenerate.”

“Until we can prove her demise, we operate under the assumption she survived,” Kane warned. “Get back to the ship. There’s a lot of work to be done, and I doubt much time to do it.”

“Already on it,” Mark replied.

“We’ll meet you at the hangar,” Dax said before looking at Henuva. “You may want to continue staying put, though. I doubt they’ll be happy to see you.”

“I’m more than happy to stay here,” Henuva replied. “I still have some libations left. And please tell me you got a few of them, at least.”

“Let’s just say it’s a good thing we’re in space and we can just send them off into a nearby star; otherwise, we’d be digging for days,” Dax replied.

“That many?”

“You saw the ships that pierced that hull. How many do you think got in there?”

“Boarding ships like those can hold five hundred soldiers each,” Henuva explained.

“And how many did you see escape?”

“One, but she was entangled with a bit of a crazy person in the process.”

“If the plan worked, and I wish on all those stars it did,” Dax said, motioning to the twinkling field before them. “Then we don’t have to worry about her anymore.”

Mark dipped the ship under a piece of spinning steel, narrowly dodging it with the Junkyard’s flat roof. He slowed, letting the smaller pieces bounce harmlessly off their hull while maneuvering around anything that could damage them.

“I didn’t request a hull scrub,” the Junkyard teased.

“I’m just trying my hardest not to give you a gouge,” Mark replied.

“With your history of keeping this thing completely intact, I’m shocked we’re not all dead by now,” PITA added.

The hangar door slid open while Mark lined up their approach. Henuva pushed off the workstation and gave Dax a pat on the shoulder.

“They may have been a smidge more than jerks, but that was two thousand of my own people who were just irradiated, so if you don’t mind, I’m going to finish my beverage.”

A weight pressed down on Dax’s shoulders. He watched his armored-up crewmate walk back toward the crew quarters.

“And I don’t want to hear an apology about it. They chose violence, they got violence thrust back on them, I’d just prefer not to have to face it.”

“Copy that,” Mark said.

“And for the record, I disposed of those less than savory attachments while you were out,” Henuva added.

Dax bit the inside of his cheek; he looked down to see the radioactive extensions gone. He warred with himself about the ‘necessary’ slaughter of the Valtukta. He turned and walked back toward the ladder.

“You good?” Mark asked.

“Just trying to re-evaluate how we got here,” Dax replied.

“For Mark, it was galactic level cyber-crimes. For Kane, it was justifiable war-crimes. For you, it was murder,” PITA replied.

“Thank you, PITA,” Dax said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “A cheery light in the darkness if ever there was one.”

“I do try,” PITA replied.

Dax climbed onto the ladder. He started his descent. The Junkyard rattled from Mark’s smooth landing halfway down. Once in the cargo bay, he walked toward the back, his head slightly hung.

“If any of you were the ones who warned us,” he whispered, placing his hand on the controls. “I’m so sorry.”

Pressing the open button, he walked down the ramp while it dropped to the ground. Reaching the hangar, he looked around at the slew of bodies that filled it. Near the parked ships, a solid line of guardsmen lay in a straight line. A staggered formation of Valtukta lay on the ground in front of them; they’d clearly been charging for the escape ships.

Dax approached the fallen friendlies. His heart sank. In the center was a uniquely familiar suit of armor. He took a deep breath, burst blood vessels in his nose muted the stench of battle mingled with that of copper.

“Ruthnar, the Broken Shields will never know your type again,” he whispered. “Rest well, good soldier.”

20

UPDATE

“What a loss,” a soft voice cut through the hangar’s still air.

Dax looked over to see another suit of the commander’s armor. He paused, doing a double take.

“At least they didn’t let any escape.”

“Ruthnar?” Dax asked.

A hint of caution and hope swelled inside him. The Dracolich grabbed at his heavily damaged helmet. He tugged and twisted at it before resigning to its fate of being stuck on his head.

“It’s me,” he replied. “Took a few hard hits and will have to be cut out of this thing, but I’m here.”

“I’m glad you survived,” Dax said, giving the Broken Shield leader a pat on the shoulder. “But you’re right. The commander was a good man. His loss will be deeply felt.”

Ruthnar stepped toward the commander. He placed a hand on the heavily burned helmet and whispered what sounded like a prayer over his body. The tradition was slow and heartfelt. A hint of guilt tugged at the back of Dax’s mind, causing him to bow his head at the ceremony.

“There are so few of us now,” Ruthnar said softly. “Every loss is a heavy blow and one more step toward extinction.”

Dax stepped forward. He placed a hand on Ruthnar’s back.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” he said softly. “When this is over, we can develop a plan to help revive the races the Valtakuntera have driven to the brink.”

“The only way that’ll work is if we leave this cursed galaxy,” Ruthnar muttered before standing up. “It seems like any race they target is doomed to a slow fade into the void.”

“As Saint Walker would say, ‘All will be well’,” Dax said.

“You have a saint called Walker?” Ruthnar asked.

“The legends of his exploits are well recorded in human history. His ability to hope has saved near extinct races countless times.”

“And what would his view on the state of this galaxy be right now?”

Dax’s mind raced through the Blue Lantern comics he’d read as a kid. Despite what others said, he found the wisdom in those panels translatable to everyday life. He turned his attention to the droves of bodies scattered around them and took a deep breath, centering himself.

“As long as there are those willing to stand up for what is right and good, this whole mess can get cleaned up and a better universe can rise from the wanton destruction.”

“When a forest grows too wild, a purging fire is inevitable and natural?” Kane asked, limping toward them. “You’re starting to sound like Liam Neeson.”

Dax turned to see Kane and Sandrina marching toward them. Dalia rushed to Dax as fast as she could.

“This isn’t a League of Assassins thing, though,” Dax managed to get out before Dalia collided with him.

She wrapped her arms around him, lifted him off the ground and retracted her helmet, revealing a deep bruise across the side of her face. Her eyes darted from one side to the other, inspecting him closely.

“Your eyes are bloodshot,” she said.

“That’s what happens when exposed to a vacuum,” Dax replied. “Your face is bruised.”

“That’s what happens when you face an augmented Valtukta that’s stronger than you,” she countered. “How are you feeling? Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m fine. I was in the void for thirty seconds max. There was no air in my lungs, and I kept my eyes shut. The suit sealed off the rest of my body, so it was only my head that got a little cold-boiled.”

“Only your head?” Sandrina asked. “That’s hands down the most important part.”

“Depends on who you’re asking,” Dax cut back in a knee-jerk response.

He looked back at Dalia, cracked a smile and raised an eyebrow.

“He’s got a point,” Dalia agreed.

“Can we keep this kind of talk out of a place where hundreds of people just sacrificed themselves to give a handful of men and women a chance to do good?” Kane asked.

“Or out of the public eye at all,” Ruthnar added. “That’d be ideal.”

“What do we do now?” Sandrina asked.

“We need to check on the delegates. They were our priority. Most important thing is to ensure the success of our mission,” Kane explained. “Then we debrief the captain while sending out an SOS to other Ryshy ships in the area to help with protection and evacuation. From there, we need to go to the Alcazar to see if our gambit worked, or if we just threw a lot of lives away for nothing.”

“It wasn’t for nothing; I doubt Tylira survived that,” Sandrina added.

“That woman’s like a cockroach. Unless we see her body burn with our own eyes, we operate as if she’s alive,” Kane reiterated.

“I’ve already contacted my brother. He has news for us but only in person. He’s bringing his ship here,” Ruthnar explained. “That’ll cover protection and evacuation since this ship can fit inside the hangar of that monstrosity.”

“Then it’s the delegates,” Dalia said.

Kane turned and walked back the way he came. Sandrina followed closely behind. While they walked, Dax noticed the slightest limp in the soldier’s gate. With a gentle tap on Dalia’s side, he sped up, reaching his comrade while the Dal’no pulled Sandrina back for a thinly-veiled brief.

“Are you not healing?” Dax asked in a whisper.

“What do you mean? I’m fine,” Kane countered.

“You try to hide it, but I can see you’re limping.”

“I got stabbed in the leg three times in that fight. When you got sliced to your femur, it took you a few days to heal back up.”

“But that was a six-inch slice through three inches of muscle and arteries,” Dax countered. “Not a dagger through a weak spot on armor.”

A tickle formed at the back of Dax’s throat while he talked. He cleared his throat, swallowed hard and continued.

“Did radiation get inside your suit from the breaches?”

“I’m sure it did, but I’m sure I’ll heal,” Kane countered.

“You need to see a doctor if you’re still in pain. That’s not normal for us and could be a bad sign.”

They exited the hangar. Groups of Tardig guards and a small handful of other races piled the Valtukta bodies high while clearing the corridors. They took their own dead and placed them reverently in rows.

They passed security doors open to the safe rooms. Crew members remained huddled inside, not wanting to greet the carnage of the fight. Dax turned his attention back to Kane, looking the armored man up and down.

“It’s probably just a knife tip that broke off in the fight,” Kane confessed. “And if it is, walking around with it in my leg for an hour or two is nothing compared to holding highly toxic radioactive substances in your throat. When you get checked out by a doctor, I will.”

“The second we come across a physician with the equipment to measure radiation, I fully intend to,” Dax said.

Kane’s stoic, stern expression quickly deflated at Dax’s willingness to get help.

“But that’s harder to find than equipment that can look inside your leg to see if there’s some metal in there… you know what? We don’t even need an x-ray machine.”

Dax leaned over. He grabbed one of the disposed-of Valtukta rifles, ejected the heat sink and started to fidget with it.

“What are you doing?” Kane asked.

“These are electromagnetic,” Dax explained. “It’s weak enough it won’t rip any metal inside your leg straight out, but it should still be strong enough to detect anything that may have been left behind.”

“That’d be a good idea,” Kane said while they rounded a corner. “But you forget the Valtukta knives aren’t metal.”

Dax’s brow furrowed. He dropped the device before tilting his head to one side.

“How’d I forget that?” Dax asked.

“You weren’t in space for thirty seconds,” Kane said, pulling a piece of broken helmet from Dax’s suit. “You were spaced for two minutes according to my HUD. I’d be surprised if you weren’t a little foggy.”

“It didn’t feel like two minutes,” Dax said with a shrug. “Kind of surprised I stayed conscious that whole time.”

They rounded the corner where their standoff took place. A team of engineers worked on cutting the inner room’s door open.

“You’re not the only one,” Kane replied. “How’s it looking?”

One of the engineers stepped away from the work and took off his protective faceplate.

“The Valtakuntera did a number on the door, but we’re almost done cutting through,” he replied.

“And the people on the other side?” Dax asked.

“From all accounts, it appears they’re doing fine. Shaken up, but alive.”

“Well, we got that info, how about we find the captain?” Dax asked.

“I’d rather confirm firsthand before continuing on,” Kane countered. “How much longer until the door’s open?”

Shouts of making a clearing filled the steel hallways. The workers scattered while a loud groan drowned out their voices. Dax watched the cut through door start to fall. He put his fingers in his ears and winced in anticipation.

Its impact shook the ship. Even Kane jumped at the sound that rang Dax’s ears even while plugged. Removing his hands, he forced a yawn to help them pop. Confused men and women slowly emerged, looking around with terror across their weathered faces. One of them was the delegate that spoke with them shortly after landing on the ship.

“There,” Dax said, motioning to the survivors. “You saw with your own eyes. Are we good to press on?”

He stifled a cough. Kane nodded before turning to Ruthnar.

“Do you know where the captain is?” Kane asked.

Dax followed the soldier’s gaze. Ruthnar was leaned over with one of the workers’ crowbars jammed into the seal of his helmet. He pulled and yanked on it several times before the bar slipped. It flipped through the air and clattered to the deck.

“Stupid freaking helmet!” he snarled.

Ruthnar yanked his gloves off. Grabbing his own neck, he dug his fingers into the metal and slowly rotated it. The screeching set Dax’s teeth on edge. Everyone grimaced and shuddered at the noise.

Making a full circle, he grabbed and yanked on the helmet a few more times. With a groan and snap, what was left that held it in place gave way. Ruthnar yanked the helmet off. He slammed it into the ground before kicking it into a wall.

“I hate that thing,” he snarled while panting.

“You good there, bud?” Dax asked.

“I am now,” he replied, looking at Kane. “What’d you ask?”

“If you knew where the captain of this ship was.”

“No idea, but my best guess is wait here,” Ruthnar replied. “Ryshy protocol is to check on the VIP crew members personally before doing anything else.”

“We’re not VIP?” Dalia teasingly scoffed.

“You’re important, but your designation is VDP,” Ruthnar replied.

“Not true. I resent that. I have a clean bill of health,” Dax jumped in.

“And unless Sandrina has some explaining to do, I’m not a VD person either,” Kane added.

“What do you mean, explaining?” Sandrina asked.

Ruthnar and Dalia both shot Dax and Kane confused looks.

“On Earth, that would’ve gotten at least a chuckle,” Kane muttered.

“Yeah, but I doubt these people have the same definition of VD as we do,” Dax replied.

“You didn’t talk to Dalia about it?”

“It was never a problem; you didn’t talk to Sandrina about it?” Dax asked.

“It was never a problem for us either.”

“You two failed jokers, look behind you,” Dalia cut in.

Both men turned around to see a man in high-ranking uniform marching toward them, ignoring the dried blood on his forehead.

“Eh, it’s not funny if you have to explain it anyway,” Kane grumbled. “Let’s get this over with.”

21

CHECK IN

Dax stood on the bridge of Queloth’s space station. He looked at a small band of frozen bodies drifting toward a nearby star. A twisting sensation filled his gut at the sight, accompanied by a wave of relief. He looked at Tarluth, standing to his right.

“Are you sure you want to be watching this?” Dax asked.

“They were just extensions,” he replied. “They weren’t actually me. If they compromised the security of the Ryshy, they needed to be dealt with.”

“Extensions or not, it’s got to be strange seeing them spaced like that.”

“Maybe to your kind,” Tarluth countered.

He put his hands behind his back before straightening his spine and clearing his throat.

“The best way I can describe them to make sense to you is like an autonomous suit in which I can exert my will.”

“That sounds awesome,” Dax scoffed.

“Yes, but if the suit gets damaged or destroyed, would you feel anything aside from a minor disappointment?” Tarluth asked.

“I mean, I guess not,” Dax said with a shrug.

“Exactly. Your species might see them as actual living, breathing beings; to me, they’re just autonomous suits.”

He turned toward Dax, revealing a fresh scar stretching down the side of his head.

“Without the implants acting as a remote control, they were little more than piles of meat. It was my brain that controlled their autonomic functions.” He motioned to the scar on his head. “Now that the neural link has been compromised, it has no business existing and has been destroyed.”

“I’m glad you’re good with it. If a human were to see themselves die, or have to kill a clone of themselves, I’d imagine it’d really mess them up.”

“Which brings me to the philosophical question of the year,” Mark chimed in as the bridge door hissed open. “If you kill your clone, is it murder or suicide?”

“I don’t think any of us have the psychological wherewithal to work those mental gymnastics at the moment,” Dax countered.

“It really depends on your view of life,” Jun chimed in, entering the oddly vacant room too. “Which means the result would vary from individual to individual, creating a completely unique stance depending on your brain chemistry.”

“We’re talking more ethical implications here,” Dax explained.

“Oh, I’d rather leave the ethics to PITA,” Jun said.

“Mr. Burn First, Ask Questions Later?” Dalia asked, joining the group too. “His version of ethics is, if it burns it’s good, if it doesn’t burn, you’re just not applying enough heat.”

“You forgot to sprinkle in emotional damage,” Mark added.

“That too. He just asked the doctor inspecting Kane if she was disappointed when she found out her toaster was waterproof. What does that even mean?”

Dax felt a burst of laughter try and erupt from him. He held it back in to little more than a snort while looking at Mark, whose face was beet red.

“Seriously?” Dax managed to snicker.

“Don’t look at me. I didn’t teach him that one. Jun, was that you?” Mark asked.

“I found a hidden file on one of Mark’s old computer drives labeled ‘Dark Humor’. I gave PITA access to it. Was I not supposed to?” Jun asked.

“No, you could, but do you remember how that was password protected?” Mark asked.

“ILoveBigGatsAndICannotLie6969! Yes, I am aware,” Jun replied.

“You other brothers can’t deny?” Dax asked.

“I don’t want to hear it, Mr. I Have the Same Password for Everything I Use. Do you have any idea how careless that is?” Mark asked.

“When a drone walks in with an itty-bitty brace and a round thing in yo face, it goes BRRRRRRT!” Dax continued.

“Look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn’t kill to have a GAU-B/A ‘Avenger’ at your disposal,” Mark sneered.

“Who wouldn’t?” Dax scoffed. “Every single man on Earth, pacifist or not, wants one of those bad boys.”

Dalia perked up. She readjusted her jacket before running her hand under her freshly cleaned, braided hair.

“Would Kane be one of those?” she asked.

Jun erupted into eerily monotone laughter. Dax grimaced before looking at Mark, who shook his head and shrugged.

“It’s the kind of gun that goes on an airplane. My cargo bay isn’t big enough for one of those.”

“That’s what she said,” Mark muttered.

“No, no.” Dax chuckled with a wave of his hand. “The gun doesn’t go on the airplane.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Dalia asked.

Dax turned his attention back to his Battle Bonded.

“It’s the size of a small car. It doesn’t go on the plane because the plane has to be literally built around it. It can shoot almost four thousand rounds a minute. Its recoil is so great, it actively slows down a fifty-one-thousand-pound airplane going over four hundred miles per hour when it fires,” Dax explained. “As much as I love watching you shoot a big gun, even in your armor, if you shoot that gun, it will kill you. No questions asked.”

Dalia’s smile fell. She let out a grumble before crossing her arms across her chest.

“That’s no fun. What would happen if you shoot it?” she asked.

“Are you familiar with the term ‘pink mist’?” Dax asked.

“Eh, I doubt the recoil has that much energy to it. I’d think more like what McDonald’s chicken nugget paste looks like before it gets cooked,” Mark interjected.

“That’s so much worse,” Dax quickly countered.

“If you four are done talking guns, because it’s not getting us anywhere, it’s time for us to leave,” Tarluth said.

He held up his hands. A holographic interface appeared in front of him. With a press of a few buttons, space in front of them shifted blue as they surged forward. Dax swallowed. He winced at the sandpaper grinding sensation that rolled down his throat. He winced again, forcing a few coughs.

Dalia perked up, turning her attention to him. She cautiously approached with an accusatory expression.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“I’m going to go to the med-bay now that we’re on our way to the Alcazar,” Dax countered. “It’s probably just some slow healing radiation burns. My suit said that I’d be fine.”

“Your suit is also running on outdated technology,” Jun chimed in. “Its scanners likely weren’t reading the radiation inside of you, just what was making it through your body.”

Dax’s stomach dropped. His eyes widened while Mark’s face lost its color.

“Then I’ve made a huge mistake, and I’d better hurry it on up to the doctors.”

Dax looked at Tarluth, who pointed straight ahead then to the right.

“Second corridor, then first door on your left,” he said.

“Thank you. I will see you three in a few minutes,” Dax said.

He forced a smile, fighting back the grasping sensation of terror that tried to overtake him. Rushing out of the room, he looked for the second corridor.

“If you go bald, I’m not shaving my head in solidarity,” Mark shouted back. “And I’m sure Dalia won’t like that you’ll lose your beard.”

Dax’s mind and heart raced. The surge of adrenaline made the forty-second walk feel like an hour. His internal panic made the scratching in his throat worse, causing him to cough even more. It fed itself in what felt like an endless loop. The more he coughed, the worse his symptoms got.

Reaching the room, he walked in to see Kane sitting on a table without pants on. Sandrina was at his side, holding a metal dish. A Dracolich physician held a pair of forceps three inches into an open wound in Kane’s thigh.

With a tug from the doctor and a wince from Kane, he pulled out the last inch of a knife’s tip before dropping it into the dish. Before the doctor could start stitching the wound, Kane grabbed some gauze and quickly wrapped his leg.

“I’m not done. I still need to close you up,” the doctor warned.

“You got the knife bit out of me; my body will heal the rest,” Kane countered.

“It’ll be easier and less painful if you let him,” Sandrina chimed in.

“Less painful for who?” PITA asked from the corner. “That means he’ll have his pants off longer and nobody wants to see that. It’ll haunt their nightmares.”

“Does your robot creature ever shut up?” the doctor asked.

“Nope, that’s his beautiful flaw,” Dax replied through several coughs. “Now if you don’t mind, I could use my throat checked out.”

Kane, Sandrina and Dax all turned to PITA with stern looks.

“Don’t even,” they all said in unison.

“You all are no fun,” PITA whimpered.

He laid down, resting his chin on his paws. Dax looked around the sterile room. Kane’s blood stood out starkly against the pristine floor. Two dozen beds held men and women of different races, all unconscious and hooked up to jellyfish-like machines that hovered over them, their tendrils inserted into different places on their bodies.

“How are they?” Dax asked.

“They’re alive and stable. I’ve induced them all into comas, though, because we don’t have the staff to handle this many casualties,” the doctor replied.

He took the pan from Sandrina, walked over to a biohazard disposal bin and dropped the knife shard in before putting the pan into a sanitizer. Dax watched the light grey uniformed insectoid pick up a rectangular device.

“The Alcazar has the staff we need to save them,” he said, turning toward Dax. “I take it you’re the one who inhaled the radiation?”

“That would be me.”

“My scans of your species indicate that’s not a healthy approach to take. I can do a cursory inspection, but anything deeper is beyond my means here,” the doctor said, approaching Dax. “Open your mouth.”

Dax obliged. The physician activated his device. A light shined off its end. He put the tip almost inside Dax’s mouth. After a few seconds, it started to let off a series of rapid beeps. The doctor withdrew his device, inspecting its screen.

“You can close your mouth now,” he said.

“What’s the tricorder say?” Dax asked.

“I don’t know what that device is. This is a bio-lock scanner.”

“Why do you make references no one knows?” Kane asked.

“You got it,” Dax countered.

“Because I’m human and know what you’re talking about, and Chris Pine, best Kirk.”

“That’s a deep cut. You don’t like any of the other guys?” Dax asked.

“The ones who came after him were too gimmicky for me.”

“What’s it say, doc?” Sandrina cut in.

Her voice drowned out both men, bringing their attention back to the physician.

“The uvular sack gland you have is heavily damaged. I’ve never seen one that wasn’t in my species before, but those do tend to heal. I’d say don’t use it for a month or two,” the insectoid said.

He walked over to a desk and set his scanner down. Notes appeared on the glass table, allowing him to start interacting with them.

“Your throat will be itchy, and you’ll likely have a cough. I do need to warn you, though. If you use it in this state, it won’t seal, and you’ll end up ingesting poison instead of holding it.”

“Good to know, and what was with all the beeping?” Dax asked.

“Do you have a partner?”

“Yes, why?”

“It’s my professional and medical opinion that you don’t kiss her, or anyone else for that matter. You are heavily irradiated. Again, we don’t have the facilities here to help you, but I’ve heard of refugees on the Alcazar who’ve been in much worse shape than you and survived. Once we get there, I want you to go straight to the medical bay.”

22

MISSION ACCOMPLISHED

Dax stood next to Dalia, Queloth and Ruthnar in a narrow docking bay. He scratched at his well-groomed beard while looking awkwardly at the twins, who seemed to be having a full non-verbal conversation with one another with a series of glances and nearly imperceptible shoulder shrugs and head tilts.

He looked up at Dalia, the bruise on her face nearly healed. She flashed him a smile while he stifled a cough, covering his mouth in the process. Dax’s translator trembled behind his ear, shaking his entire skull. Without missing a beat, he ran his finger over the implant.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“We made it to the hangar,” Mark replied.

“Copy that,” Kane replied. “Anything indicate if the other ships made it?”

“Indicate?” Mark scoffed. “I’m looking at them both right now.”

“Outstanding,” Dax replied. “And everything seems copacetic?”

“I’m looking at two Ryshy delegations being met by Alcazar members and no one’s being shot,” Mark replied. “I’m guessing that’s a good thing. Do you want me to keep her running or are we going to stay here for a while?”

“Let the Junkyard rest. Who knows how long I’ll be in the waiting room. I don’t plan to be here long, but I’d rather not just let her idle. You guys can restock while you’re waiting.”

“We’ll get right on it; I’ll try to find a replacement helmet for you as well. Mark out.”

The translator stopped vibrating. Queloth looked at Dax, a pleased expression spread across his draconic features.

“The others made it?”

“They did. Now the Ryshy have three delegations representing them instead of just one,” Dax replied.

“Your reputation is well-founded. I’m impressed. I just wish we hadn’t lost so many good men and women.”

“I hate to say it, but it was necessary for the operation to be real,” Dalia chimed in. “If the Valtakuntera had been able to tell we were a decoy, then they would’ve started looking for the other two.”

“I agree, it was an all or nothing gambit,” Ruthnar added. “And who knows, if everything goes well, maybe the combined strength of the Ryshy and Alcazar will be powerful enough to push back the Valtakuntera.”

“You know better than I do that just because the numbers will start evening out does not mean that we stand a chance,” Queloth replied.

The ship shuddered. Several muted bolts clanged, locking the ship in place. A low hum reverberated from the wall in front of them before slowly retracting.

“How much more do you think would be needed to take them on?” Dax asked, .raising his voice over the whining of servos and the humming of moving metal.

“At least thirty percent more; fifty would be better,” Queloth explained.

“With our combined resources, I’m sure we could hire the Broken Shields, and any other non-Valtukta mercenary group in the galaxy,” the Galio Alcazar member said.

His voice carried around the door, booming like he was using a bullhorn. The door slid out of sight with a low thud, revealing their old ally and a contingent of guards.

“I appreciate the offer, but the Broken Shields are already under contract,” Ruthnar explained.

“I’m sure we can buy out the contract,” the Galio mused.

“We’re under contract with them,” Ruthnar countered, motioning toward Dax and Dalia. And I owe them more than money can buy.”

“Then we won’t argue the case. Dax, Dalia, it’s good to see you both again. I’ve already dispatched some of our store owners to resupply you, fully on the Alcazar’s dime.”

“We appreciate that, but we’ve just been through one nasty fight. My armor’s barely holding it together and in desperate need of repair.”

“Your armor’s always in need of repair,” the Galio mused. “After your business is done here, I’ll send you to an old friend of mine who can rebuild it stronger than it originally was.”

“You have friends?” Dalia teased.

“Very powerful ones. Unfortunately, they’ve decided not to interfere in the affairs of the galaxy. But now, we look to make new ones that’ll help strengthen our foothold. You must be the indomitable Queloth.”

“I am, and you are?”

“Cauroptuquadanebvoc,” the Alcazar said.

Dax balked at the name, drawing the Galio’s attention.

“Am I missing something?”

Dalia shot Dax a stern look while jabbing his arm with her elbow. It knocked him a few feet to the side while Ruthnar stifled a laugh and an expression of horror spread across Queloth’s face.

“What?” Dax asked. “I know I’m pulling a bit of a Mark right now, but I get why you haven’t told me your name until now.”

“I am so sorry, please forgive him, he is still recovering from being exposed to the vacuum of space,” Dalia said.

“There’s no need to apologize. I have no delusions that my name is anywhere near normal.”

“Then why’d your parents give it to you?” Queloth asked.

The Galio looked at his guards. They turned around and moved just out of earshot.

“As a sign of good faith in our future partnership”, He inclined his head. “My father lost a bet to his friend while drunk one night,” the politician explained.

“And your mother didn’t stop it?” Dalia asked.

“She lost a bet too; the name she would’ve had to pick was far worse.”

“Sounds like you had some great parents,” Dax said, fighting a laugh. “But we’re just going to call you Dan if you don’t mind, because your name’s a nightmare.”

“Dan?” he asked. His brow furrowed and a frown overtook his expression. After a few seconds, he started to nod. He stiffened his back and raised his head.

“I like it. It’s easy, short and very Terran. I will go by Dan.”

“Great. Now, which way to medical?” Dax asked. “Because I may or may not be heavily irradiated.”

“I would be more than happy to escort you, although I think our physicians may be tired of having to treat you after last time.”

“Last time?” Queloth asked.

“He jumped out of the back of the Junkyard and used the pull of a black hole and our acceleration to launch him through the windscreen of a ship tethered to us, punching and knocking out its pilot,” Dalia explained. “And then he was exposed to leap space with nothing but his suit to protect him.”

“I wasn’t unconscious for that long,” Dax argued.

“It was a couple of weeks,” Dalia countered.

Queloth let out a chuckle. He gave Ruthnar a pat on the shoulder.

“I see why my brother likes you,” he mused before looking at Dan. “The delegates aboard this ship are on their way. I wouldn’t presume to take their role and negotiate with you when they aren’t present.”

“A leader not willing to overstep his bounds? We need more like that,” Dan said, looking at Dax. “I’ll have one of my guards at least get you to the elevators. I trust from there you can find it?”

“I can if he can’t,” Dalia chimed in. “I was the one conscious. I learned that deck like the back of my hand.”

“Good. Guards?” Dan shouted back.

They turned toward him.

“Will one of you escort our friends here to the closest lift that goes to the medical bay?”

“I will,” a Tardig said, waving for them to follow.

“I’m going to go with them,” Ruthnar said, looking at his brother. “You’ve got your own work here that I’m not a part of. I should probably get checked out for radiation exposure as well anyway, just to be safe.”

“Of course.” Queloth nodded before turning toward Dax. “The Ryshy owe you a debt that can’t be paid. Let me know before you leave. I’ll make sure you get the sendoff you deserve.”

“I appreciate it, but we don’t need a sendoff,” Dax countered. “Sometimes you have to do the right thing solely because it’s the right thing to do.”

Dax pointed down the one-way corridor.

“That way?” he asked, walking past Dan.

Ruthnar and Dalia followed closely behind. All but one of the guards moved, making room for them. Their escort looked Dax up and down, then turned his attention to Dalia.

“You look like you can fight,” he said in a low, rumbling voice.

“I can,” she replied.

“Have you fought one of my kind before?”

He turned and led them down the highly polished hallway.

“A couple of times,” she said, keeping her tone short and to the point.

“And if another Tardig were to challenge you?”

“I would say I’m not the right person in the crew to challenge,” Dalia explained. “My fights against your kind have been sparring matches. If you want a real fight, I’d challenge the small one.”

The Tardig turned to Ruthnar. He looked at the Dracolich’s claws and nodded in approval.

“Those would do some damage.”

“They can,” Ruthnar replied. “But I’m not the one she’s talking about.”

The corridor took a bend before opening to a large room lined with a dozen elevators.

“Surely this little one couldn’t have actually survived a fight.”

“I did more than survive,” Dax replied. “I killed one. Although he wasn’t in his right mind. He was infected with a fungus that made him harder to take down, and he was being controlled by an insane Jarog.”

The Tardig’s superior attitude vanished. He looked at Ruthnar for confirmation. The Dracolich nodded. Dalia confirmed with one herself, causing the Tardig to take a half step away. He pointed at the third door from the left.

“Take that one up,” he said, slowly backing away. “And I’d ask that you avoid me and my family in the future.”

The Tardig turned and made his way back to Dan and Queloth.

“I’m going to make sure one of my people hires your son into their crew,” Dax teased.

“That’s a little much, don’t you think?” Dalia asked.

Ruthnar walked over to the controls and summoned the elevator.

“I don’t care how-long lived they are. With all the infighting my race has, we’re not going to be leaving our solar system in ten generations of his family line,” Dax muttered.

“You do know that’d be close to eight thousand years, right?” Ruthnar asked.

The elevator doors slid open. Everyone stepped in while a surge of disbelief washed through Dax.

“Seriously?” he squealed.

“Tardig are the second longest living known species in the galaxy. They can easily reach a thousand years old,” Ruthnar explained.

Dalia pressed the medical bay deck, causing them to ascend rapidly and Dax’s stomach to drop.

“How long do you live?” Dax asked Ruthnar.

“Three to four hundred,” Ruthnar replied.

“Dalia, yours is four to six, right?” Dax asked, looking at his Battle Bonded.

“Yes, but we haven’t had anyone pass of old age since the Underbeasts made their emergence. Any data that could shed light on my people’s natural life span was lost during their initial emergence.”

Ruthnar turned toward her. He looked up to make eye contact.

“I’m genuinely sorry that happened to your people,” he said.

Dalia reached out, hiding a slight smile before grabbing Dax’s hand and giving it a squeeze.

“I can’t complain. If it weren’t for the Valtakuntera getting involved, my people wouldn’t have reached out to humanity,” she said. “If they never did that, a specific linguistics professor never would’ve found our derelict ship and shown up on our world. And I wouldn’t be an OGRE of the Junkyard starship.”

Her words sent a wave of warmth through Dax. He couldn’t help but crack a smile, giving her hand a squeeze back.

“OGRE? What is that?” Ruthnar asked.

“In human mythology, they’re ferocious, monstrous creatures that instill fear into the heart of everyone and everything they come across. For us, it stood for Orbital Garbage Reclamation Experts.”

The elevator slowed to a stop and the doors opened.

“You were garbage men?” Ruthnar asked.

“We were garbage men,” Dax replied.

23

CHECK UP

“Second door to the right,” Dalia said.

She pointed down a path with doors on one side and handrails on the other. A drop-off opened the medical wing to an objectively beautiful view of the hyper-advanced space station.

“I’m going to go grab some food,” she added. “Do you want anything?”

At her mention of food, Dax’s stomach gurgled as if it were listening to her. A hunger pang twisted in his gut shortly after, causing him to nod.

“Yes, please. I didn’t realize it’d been so long since we ate.”

“I’ll go with her. I could use some food myself,” Ruthnar added.

“Okay, it should be pretty easy to find. I’ll see you guys in a bit,” Dax said.

He leaned over and gently placed his forehead against Dalia’s before looking at Ruthnar.

“I’m good to hard pass on that,” the Dracolich said. “We don’t have that kind of relationship, and I’m not going to be gone all that long.”

Dax glanced at Dalia. The stifled look on her face was all the permission he needed. He rushed Ruthnar, playfully grabbing his face.

“Just a little goodbye kiss,” he teased.

Ruthnar’s eyes widened. He tried to pull back while letting out a high-pitched squeal. With a quick duck and spin of his head, the Dracolich slipped out of Dax’s grasp accompanied by a muffled wheeze from Dalia. She covered her face, turning away from Ruthnar.

“You serious, Dax?” Ruthnar hissed.

The professor cracked a smile, loving the exasperated expression on the mercenary’s face.

“Oh, it’s like that?” he asked, motioning at Dalia. “You two have jokes?”

“I like you.” Dax chuckled. “But not quite that much, no offense.”

“I take absolutely none to that,” Ruthnar replied. “Because the feeling is one-hundred-percent mutual.”

He started to walk toward the dining hall while pointing back at Dalia.

“Don’t think I didn’t see that,” he warned.

Dalia turned and walked with him.

“You should’ve seen your face. It was priceless!” she said between snorting fits of laughter.

Dax turned back toward the medical bay. He walked, looking at the lights above each door. Most were a soft yellow, indicating no physician assigned. He passed a room with orange. Dax turned his attention to the floor to give the patient privacy. A familiar outline caught the corner of his eye. He kept pressing on.

“Dax?” a squeaky voice called out. “Is that Dax?”

Dax slowed to a stop and turned around.

“Sleek, that you?” he asked.

In the blink of an eye, the hybrid slid out of his room. His face lit up seeing Dax, causing him to charge. The professor braced himself, taking the full force of Sleek slamming into him while throwing his arms around the human.

“Sleek so happy to see Dax!” he squealed.

The exuberance in his voice flooded Dax with a sense of joy and relief. He quickly embraced the hybrid. Sleek’s arms squeezed Dax so tightly, he couldn’t get a full breath. The professor didn’t mind. He was gentle yet firm with his old friend.

“I’m glad to see you made it,” Dax mused.

They released one another, looking each other up and down. Sleek wore a gray jumpsuit that was stained with grease and had patches where it’d torn.

“Are you doing okay? What brings you to the med bay?”

“Sleek fine,” he said, waving a clawed hand. “Sleek here for checkup. Sleek not need one; creator made us immune to known disease.”

“It’s the unknown ones you have to watch out for.”

“Yes, fungus not disease. Fungus organism,” Sleek countered. “What Dax do with fungus?”

“It’s been eradicated,” Dax explained. “Nothing’s left of it and everyone that was infected has been dealt with. Once again, I am sorry for what happened to your p…”

“Dax no apologize,” Sleek interrupted. “Brood Mother sick. Sleek not know. Sleek and Brood Mother come to new home. Genetic abnormality discovered and fixed. Brood Mother, Sleek and Sleek race die if not discovered. Many died but brood now live. If Dax not infect, brood all die, including Sleek.”

Dax’s breath caught in his throat while Sleek spoke. The guilt that pulled at him was quickly tempered by a wave of relief.

“I’m glad to hear that. They aren’t working you too hard, are they?” Dax asked after a few moments of silence.

“Alcazar give brood purpose, give Sleek purpose. Brood work hard, brood rest when needed, brood never want for food or water. Sleek happy.”

“I’m glad to hear that. If they ever start treating you poorly, let me know.”

“Sleek will. What bring Dax to stitch center?”

“I was exposed to some dangerous materials. I just want to make sure they didn’t cause any lasting damage.”

“Sleek wish Dax best of news. Sleek must finish checkup and return to Brood Mother. She not like it when Sleek gone long time.”

“Welcome to marriage, my friend,” Dax teased. “It was great seeing you.”

“Sleek enjoy seeing Dax too,” the hybrid replied.

He turned back to his room and walked back inside. Dax continued his walk until he found a room with a purple light. Walking inside, he sat on the table/bed. A light quickly scanned him, causing him to flinch and raise a hand to protect his eyes.

“Come on, can’t you give a guy a heads-up?” Dax grumbled.

“Initial genetic scan is required before a physician can be assigned,” a robotic voice called out.

“I’m not telling you not to do your job, just don’t blind me in the process.”

“Your conclusion is unfounded,” the voice replied. “My scanning is below the lumens needed to cause any lasting eye problems.”

“Maybe, but without at least some warning, it’s still not pleasant,” Dax countered.

The light shut off.

“Scan complete.”

“And?” Dax asked.

No response.

“Are you still there?”

Silence. Dax huffed.

“Come on, don’t be like that.”

His shoulders dropped.

“Oh, I see how it is, you get what you want from me and you just leave!”

He added a little dramatic flair to his voice.

“I guess it’s true what they say about medical AI. They just take what they want from you and never call you again. I thought we had something special.”

“Please stop talking to our system,” a female Jarog said, entering the room.

A wave of heat immediately rushed over the nape of Dax’s neck, his ears and his cheeks.

“It’s programmed only to engage with things pertaining to the health and safety of our patients,” she said, motioning toward Dax. “Not whatever that was.”

She walked over to a desk and picked up a data pad that quickly flickered to life. Dax watched the purple-skinned humanoid salamander look over the report. What passed on her species for a furrowed brow caused Dax’s chest to tighten.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“My scans are oddly inconsistent,” she replied.

The fronds on the side of her head rose. She pointed toward her temple.

“Do you mind if I?” she asked.

“Better not, doc. The last Jarog that tried to get in my head was actively trying to kill me and take over my body without my consent,” Dax explained. “I don’t know if other races are, but mine are prone to post traumatic stress disorder when things like that happen.”

“That must’ve been one powerful Jarog,” she scoffed. “And what is this disorder you speak of?”

“When something bad enough happens, it creates a mental scar. Our minds then create an amplified response that can cause our bodies to react without thinking in order to further protect us if we’re ever in a similar situation again.”

The doctor walked back across the room. She opened a drawer with a series of strange pieces of equipment.

“And how can that manifest?” she asked, looking over the devices.

“In countless different ways,” Dax continued. “In my situation, though, since I was fighting for my life and freedom when it happened, I’d guess a swift and violent response before I even realize what’s going on.”

“That is good to know. I’ll mark that in your chart in case you’re ever back.”

She grabbed a long, cylindrical rod from the drawer and turned toward him, holding it up.

“Look, I know the whole ‘aliens like to probe humans’ thing is likely just a myth, but if you plan on using that on me, at least abduct me from a cornfield in a flying saucer like everyone else,” Dax huffed. “I’d like my story to at least line up with Toothless Tom up the bayou way.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the doctor said.

She approached Dax and started to wave the wand over him, starting with his feet. It didn’t make a sound while she passed his knees and made it to his stomach. His heart started to race when a small light blinked into existence on the device.

It started to blink faster the higher up his torso she got. His chest tightened as the room started to shrink around him. Dax took several deep breaths, trying in vain to gain control of himself.

“What’s the prognosis, doc?” he asked.

She stepped back and inspected the wand. Her features crumpled as every muscle in her face tightened.

“I’m going to need you to open up,” she said, making a pushing motion with the cylinder.

“I made a promise to myself I’d stop doing that unless they bought me dinner first,” Dax teased.

His joke didn’t break the mounting tension in him while an unimpressed Jarog stared him down.

“I don’t need much. I’m just putting the tip in,” she sighed.

“That’s what he said.”

Her expression didn’t change. The light in her eyes seemed to fade even more at his failed joke. Relenting, he opened his mouth. She put the device’s tip just past his teeth. After a few seconds, she removed the tool and inspected it.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” she huffed.

“Maybe for you. You weren’t the one with something hard shoved in their mouth.”

“I get that each race has their own tic when they’re nervous. Please tell me bad jokes and innuendo isn’t yours.”

“Do you want the truth, or for me to make you feel better?” Dax asked.

“Just tell me your people aren’t going to be joining the galactic community within the next two hundred years,” she sighed, sterilizing the device and putting it back.

“Very unlikely,” Dax replied. “Why?”

“Because I’m hoping that I will be retired before I have to put up with your shenanigans again. Now, do you want to make more jokes, or would you like to hear my prognosis?”

“Ideally both, but I’m sensing you’ll just walk out if I continue, so we’ll settle for prognosis,” Dax replied.

“Good choice, and astute observation,” the Jarog said. “Your vitals are strong, and where they need to be compared to your last visit, but there are parts of you that are heavily irradiated.”

“Am I harmful to my crew?” Dax asked, inching to the edge of the table.

“No. Not unless you get sliced open and they interact directly with the irradiated parts,” the doctor replied. “But by that time, you won’t have anything else to worry about.”

“And the strange readings?”

“Your body is trying very hard to heal from the mounting damage of the radiation. But it’s continuing to build, and eventually, your cells won’t be able to keep up. They’ll break down completely and turn into cancer. With your healing factor, once it gets a read on those cells, I think, instead of fighting it, it’ll spread the cancer throughout your body.”

“Hey, at least I get to be Deadpool, right?” Dax chuckled nervously.

“Dead, yes, quite painfully, in fact. What a pool has to do with it? I’m not sure.”

Dax’s heart started to pound. His stomach dropped. He stari at the floor, nodding.

“What kind of medicine do I need to take?”

“Unfortunately, we don’t have anything potent enough to clear out this deep seated form of radiation.”

A lump formed in Dax’s throat while his gut clenched harder.

“How long do I have?”

“Typically, I’d say a week before you hit the tipping point, then from there, another month. But you’re not the first person I’ve seen with this sort of issue.”

Dax’s head shot up.

“Did they survive it?”

“Yes, but no one is privy to the information aside from one of our Alcazar members. Give me one second, I need to give Cauroptuquadanebvoc a call.”

She turned to walk out of the room.

“Now THAT is a mouthful,” Dax teased.

She turned, shooting him a stern look before leaving.

24

ALCAZAR

Dax bit into the strange dark purple burrito Dalia handed him. Dozens of different flavors swirled in his mouth, from sweet to spicy to succulent. His brow knitted together while he looked at the wrapped mystery meat, cheese, and what looked like some form of bean.

“This is amazing,” Dax said after moving the food into his cheek before continuing to chew. “What is it?”

“A Bastet burrito,” Dalia replied, taking a bite of her own.

“Don’t tell Taco Bell about this. They’ll partner with Dollar General to make sure they can get out here first.” Dax chuckled.

He swallowed before taking another mouthful. Ruthnar finished his, licking his fingers clean.

“They do make the best burritos,” he said while they walked past the cafeteria. “But what’s a Taco Bell and Dollar General?”

“Think of them like an expeditionary force. Any new place that’s expanding, they set up shop to get a head start on sales,” Dax replied. “I saw Sleek, by the way.”

“You did?” Dalia asked. “How’s he doing?”

“Clean bill of health,” Dax said between mouthfuls of food. “He said that his Brood Mother had a genetic issue that would’ve killed her and resulted in their collapse if they hadn’t been forced to come here.”

“Looks like the infection actually served a good purpose,” Dalia replied. “Will she be okay now?”

“Sleek seems to think so.”

They approached a fork in the path. One branched down a flight of stairs that reached lower levels while the other turned deeper into the space station.

“This way,” Ruthnar said.

He motioned to the steps.

“Where are we going?” Dax asked.

“One of Dan’s assistants,” Dalia replied. “She said he was at a little café down here and that he wanted to speak with you based on something the doctor told him.”

“That Jarog works fast,” Dax scoffed.

“Do you want to tell me what it’s about?” Dalia asked.

She shot Dax a stern look he hadn’t seen since he was a child. He quickly finished off his burrito, licking his fingers clean as well.

“It’s nothing serious,” Dax explained. “Just some of the radiation I inhaled didn’t actually make it out of me, likely due to the exposure to a vacuum and all the damage that did.”

Dalia stopped mid step. She tilted her head to the side while her features hardened. Ruthnar ducked his head and continued descending the steps, trying to make himself look as small as possible.

“You’re still radioactive?”

“Not enough to harm anybody else, and the doctor said she’s seen this before in far less resilient races, and while there’s no fix with the senate, apparently Dan has some contacts that have helped cure others in my particular condition. He’s likely bringing us down there to get the needed information.”

“What I’m hearing is you’re dying,” Dalia clarified.

“I mean, we all are. It’s just a matter of when, right?”

“Now’s not the time for jokes, Dax,” Dalia warned.

Dax let out a sigh. He shrugged slightly.

“I wouldn’t classify it as that,” he explained. “The genetic alterations Henuva did to me are holding it at bay. And will continue to do so long enough for treatment. There is literally nothing to worry about.”

“This isn’t the first time you’ve said that,” Dalia countered. “You keep taking life-ending risks almost every single time we go on a mission. You know it upsets me, then you apologize and expect it to be all better afterward. I love you, and I don’t want to lose you, but this is the last time I let you off easily.”

She turned and started to descend the steps. Dax’s mind flashed back to every other conversation he’d had with her about it. His heart sank, picking up on the cycle he’d been in. He shook his head, realizing what he’d done.

“Before you even say that you’re sorry and I’m absolutely right and that you’ll be better, let’s just try to catch up to Ruthnar,” Dalia called back. “He thinks he’s being sneaky, but he’s not.”

Dax looked down. Ruthnar was already at the bottom of the stairs waiting awkwardly for them. The professor quickly caught up to Dalia. He looked up at her, meeting her steps with his own.

“I love you too,” Dax said. “And I love how well you know me. It’s almost like you’re in my head sometimes.”

“You spend enough time around people, you tend to get on the same wavelength,” she replied.

“Are Mom and Dad done fighting?” Ruthnar asked.

“When did you turn into Mark?” Dax asked.

“He may or may not have told me to look out for a little tiff and drop that line when I got the chance,” Ruthnar replied. “But seriously, are you two good?”

“Depends,” Dalia said, looking at Dax. “How sure are you that Dan’s little treatment will work?”

“I have faith in the man, and it helps that he likes me,” Dax replied.

“Then we’re good. If he says he has faith in someone, then I believe him.”

Ruthnar looked between them both. With a shake of his head, he motioned to a small café a few yards away.

“He’s over here, and has anyone ever told you that you both have the most annoyingly healthy relationship?”

“Mark has, more than once,” Dalia replied.

“Open communication and the setting of expectations is the key,” Dax added.

“It’d help, though, if this one would stop trying to get himself killed,” Dalia teased, nudging Dax with her elbow.

Her nudge threw him to the side, making him stagger. He caught himself and chuckled before shrugging.

“I was just trying to finish Tylira on this one. Can you blame me for that?” he jested back.

“I certainly can’t,” Ruthnar added. “If I were in the same position as your crew, I’d be willing to take myself out if it meant she couldn’t hurt the others.”

“While that’s a valiant sentiment, it’s easy to die for someone,” Dax explained. “It’s much harder living for them.”

He looked over at Dalia, whose features beamed with a warm joy. They continued across the open ground toward the café where Dan sat outside, eating an oddly shaped food.

“You do see the irony in that statement, coming from you, right?” she asked.

“I have no delusions about that. Now let’s see what the big D has for us.”

Dax grimaced. He raised a hand before Ruthnar or Dalia could jump in.

“I heard it,” he grumbled.

“If it isn’t my favorite human and Dal’no,” Dan said while taking a sip of a grayish-green liquid.

“What about Dracolich?” Dax asked, motioning toward Ruthnar.

“You’re quite skilled and your reputation precedes you, but there are others I’ve known for longer. I hope that doesn’t offend.”

“Of course not,” Ruthnar replied.

He shot Dax and Dalia a playful glance.

“It’s easy to be the favorite of the race when you’re the only ones anyone’s met.”

“Dracolich has jokes now?” Dalia asked.

“That was a good burn,” Dax added.

Dan reached into his robes. He pulled out a puck and placed it on the polished metal table. Dax looked at it while the Alcazar member wiped his face clean.

“I hear you have radiation eating away at you.”

“That’s one way to put it, I guess,” Dax replied, motioning toward the puck. “And I’m guessing that’s my treatment?”

“It’s a location where your treatment will be conducted. A world that eats radiation. Just by being on its surface, you’ll find yourself healed, in time.”

“How much time?” Dalia asked.

“I couldn’t tell you,” Dan shrugged. “I’m not familiar enough with human physiology to know how quickly the reaction will take place.”

Dax reached out and picked up the cold puck. He inspected it before sliding it into his jacket.

“I’m assuming we delete the location of the world after we’re done so the Valtakuntera don’t get their hands on it?”

Dan looked down at his food. He let out a knowing chuckle as if concealing a secret only he knew. Shaking his head, he motioned toward the pocket Dax put the puck in.

“A world with inhabitants like that is so dangerous, not even the Valtakuntera would dare bring a fleet within twenty parsecs of their system.”

A rush of adrenaline seeped through Dax, accompanied by a hint of fear. His hand instinctively moved toward the device.

“If they’re that dangerous, why are you sending us there?”

“There’s a big bald one that I befriended as a young man. He said if I ever needed anything to just go to those coordinates and he’d help out.”

“If they’re that dangerous, we need to get them on our side for the fight with the Valtakuntera,” Dalia added.

Dan stifled a laugh that turned into a cough. He covered his mouth and slammed a closed fist against his chest.

“Sorry, piece of food down the wrong pipe,” he said between bodily heaves. “Gods don’t burden themselves with the affairs of mortals. And if any race in this galaxy are gods, that race is it.”

“What kind of technology do they have to puts them on the planes of gods?” Ruthnar asked.

“It’s not just their technology,” Dan explained. “Legend has it a single, unarmed member of that race can obliterate every ship the Valtakuntera have by themselves.”

“That sounds like Cold War era propaganda to get people to leave them alone.” Dax chuckled.

Dan’s face darkened. He quickly got control of his coughing and locked eyes with Dax. Slowly shaking his head, he took another sip of his drink.

“Speaking as a firsthand witness to their capabilities, it’s not propaganda,” Dan replied. “They are every bit as dangerous as the stories suggest. While they are benevolent, make sure no one gives them a reason to turn hostile; otherwise, I may feel a little guilty about never seeing you again.”

“May?” Dalia asked.

“They’re slow to anger. If your crew doesn’t leave that planet’s surface, it’s your own fault,” Dan explained.

“Well, that settles it,” Ruthnar said, crumpling up his burrito wrapper. “Interacting with gods is one of the things the Broken Shield’s contracts don’t cover. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll be sitting this one out.”

“By all means,” Dax replied. “Spend time with your brother. It’s important for family to catch up.”

“I will,” Ruthnar replied.

A yellow-skinned, three-eyed humanoid in a uniform emerged from the café with a pastry on a plate. She offered Dan a polite smile, slid the plate in front of him and returned to the oddly Parisian structure.

“Now, if you don’t mind, I would like to finish my meal in peace. Ruthnar, your brother will be in the foyer at the top of that elevator over there.” Dan pointed at a single glass elevator shaft that went straight up several decks before disappearing into the roof. “That’s where the delegates have entered negotiations.”

“Thank you,” Ruthnar replied.

He gave Dax and Dalia a wave before making his way across the mostly empty would-be shopping center.

“Shouldn’t you be in negotiations?” Dax asked.

“My vote is to allow any who would oppose the Valtakuntera into the alliance. I don’t need to negotiate,” Dan replied.

He picked up his pastry and took a bite.

“Now if you wouldn’t mind.”

He motioned for them to continue on their way.

“Hopefully, we’ll have some good news for you soon,” Dax said.

He and Dalia made their way back up the stairs toward the medical deck.

“You know, I’m starting to regret calling him Dan,” Dax said.

“Why?” Dalia asked.

“There are three ‘D’ names now. That’s too many ‘D’ names,” Dax explained.

25

PRE-FLIGHT CHECK

Dax marched toward the Junkyard with Dalia at his side. To his dismay, there weren’t many ships parked in the hangar and none that were unique. His shoulders dropped; Dalia let out an amused huff.

“You know, eventually, you’re going to see every ship in the galaxy. Each adventure isn’t going to provide something new to look at.”

“I know,” Dax said. “But I figured with all these politicians there’d be something rare, exotic and way out of their pay range.”

“If what I’ve heard about the politicians of the Alcazar, they’re not as corrupt as those from your world,” Dalia replied.

They circled to the back of their ship, looking into the cargo bay full of Kane’s weapons. He sat at a collapsible workbench with Mark at his side, making and loading bullets for Dalia’s gun.

“You’re not wrong there; ours would nuke the planet if it meant they could make a quick buck,” Dax said.

“Really?” Dalia asked, the pitch of her voice spiking.

“You’d be surprised at how often it’s almost happened.”

“Maybe Mark had the right idea.”

“He most certainly did. Just aimed them at the wrong target.”

“I can hear you talking about me,” Mark called back.

He pulled the loading lever down gently, pushing a brass solid into its shell.

“I’m glad to hear you relent and say I was right for once.”

“No one ever said you were wrong, kid,” Kane countered.

“I’m twenty-three,” Mark interrupted.

“Since I’m such an old man, to me, that makes you a kid,” Kane teased. “They’re just saying you were wrong to aim them at the moon. Even without colonists on it, you’d risk destroying it.”

“We’ll put the theory if it’s actually inhabited off to the side for a second,” Mark said with a pushing motion. “But there aren’t enough to do any real damage to the moon. It’d take between ten billion and ten trillion tons of TNT to push the moon out of Earth’s orbit and significantly more to destroy it.”

Mark pulled the completed shell off his apparatus. Replacing the cartridge, he filled it with gunpowder, stuck another brass solid Kane cooled off and started loading it in again.

“And with my little free time, I know exactly how many bombs were in existence and their yields prior to my incarceration. It only averaged out to about three billion tons of TNT. All I would’ve done is add a few thousand new craters to the moon.”

“Still doesn’t make it right,” Kane chimed in.

“Don’t you think I know that,” Mark countered in a mocking tone.

Kane cracked a smile, shutting off his kiln before standing up and wiping his soot-covered hands on his gray jumpsuit.

“What’s the prognosis?”

“Being exposed to a vacuum dealt a little damage to my extra organ, meaning not all the radiation got out of me, and it’s currently churning up my insides,” Dax said, pulling the puck out of his pocket. “But our friend in the Alcazar seems to know of a planet where I can get the needed treatment.”

“So he doesn’t end up dying of horrible cancer surging through his body,” Dalia added.

“They didn’t need to know that part,” Dax whispered.

“Someone had to tell them,” she countered.

“Simple enough, then. We’ll get the ship warmed up and be on our merry in fifteen. But can someone tell me why the Junkyard won’t let me start repairs on our suits?” Mark asked.

Dax and Dalia made their way up the ramp, closing it behind them. Once the whining stopped with a clang, the smell of fresh gunpowder and melted metal nearly overwhelmed Dax’s nostrils.

“The Junkyard says that because if you weren’t so impatient, you’d probably get an upgrade with the repairs,” PITA shouted down from the upper deck.

Everyone paused, glancing at one another, their brows furrowed and a shallow frown tugging at their mouths.

“If any of you were actually smart, you would’ve already put that together. My guess is the three of you have the IQ of a cannoli,” PITA added.

“And there it is,” Dax said.

Everyone’s expressions returned to normal.

“There’s four of us,” Kane called back.

“You’re forgetting, he likes me,” Dalia whispered.

“Yes, but none of you are a She-Hulk hottie that can crush me with one hand,” PITA replied.

“Sorry,” Mark said, his face turning red. “I’ll try to reprogram that out of him.”

“Don’t,” Dalia mused.

She turned and walked toward the ladder.

“I think I’m starting to like it.”

She started to climb. Mark smirked and followed. Once they both disappeared, Dax let out a sigh.

“Why is it that our crew is growing and we’re still the only two normal people on this ship?” he asked.

“Normal?” Kane countered. “You’re practically married to an orc and seem to have some form of death wish, and I’m dating a humanoid cat. We’re just as strange as they are.”

“I’d like to think of it as being dedicated to the cause of taking out Tylira,” Dax argued. “But other than that, I see your point.”

Dax walked to the ladder and climbed onto the first few rungs.

“You coming up?”

“No,” Kane replied. “I’m going to clean all this up first. It shouldn’t be too long.”

“Suit yourself.”

“It’s either that or the gunpowder isn’t stored in the static free, heavily insulated cases and just starts floating around if we ever go zero gravity, increasing its chances of accidental detonation by a factor of fifty,” Kane explained.

“You made your point.” Dax chuckled. “See you in a bit.”

He ascended the ladder, climbing into the corridor next to the engine room. The stench of Kane and Mark’s work vanished. Dax made his way to the main deck where the rest of the crew stood, cups of coffee in their hands. Henuva offered his to Dax.

“Why isn’t the Junkyard talking to us?” Dax asked, looking at PITA. “Not that I’m not a huge fan of your wit.”

“She’s updating her linguistics core,” Sandrina said, leaning against a wall.

“Didn’t we spend years and a comedy of errors trying to get her to speak normally?” Dax asked, taking the mug. “Why are we playing with this again?”

“It’s my fault,” Henuva replied. “I uploaded the coding for the Valtakuntera’s communication network. She’s integrating it into her systems so we’ll have access to any encrypted conversations within a mile of our location.”

“Not a lot of use out here,” Mark said.

“But invaluable when on the ground,” Sandrina chimed in. “Being able to hear and coordinate against their movements.”

“That’s not all. The program will also scramble any conversations we have in any language that isn’t Valtukta,” Henuva continued.

“What’s that mean?” Dax asked.

“If we’re in our suits and have our helmets up, they won’t be able to understand us unless we address them directly,” Henuva replied. “Or both parties have their helmets off.”

“What if we have our helmets off, but they don’t?” Dalia asked.

“It’ll be picked up by their suit communicators, scrambled and projected into their gear,” Henuva explained. “It’s a hard stop on translation that’ll give us that little extra layer of protection against them the next time we cross paths.”

“Hopefully, that means we can get the drop on them then,” Mark replied. “If one of you can take out Tylira’s helmet, all I need is line of sight and I can take care of her.”

“All any of us needs is line of sight,” Dalia teased.

“What if you’re out of ammo, or our weapons are broken, or taken?” Mark asked.

He shot her back a judgmental look before activating the ship’s engines.

“It burns like you wouldn’t believe, but if Dax is willing to suck on radiation and brave the void of space, I can take a facial burn to put a hole through her head.”

“So, you’ve adopted Kane’s approach on her survival?” Dax asked.

“The woman’s survived things that’s making me think she may just be immortal. The more I think about it, the more I’m convinced she’s still alive,” Mark replied.

“We can have hope that she isn’t,” Sandrina added.

“There’s always hope,” Dalia chimed in.

“No corpse, no kill,” Henuva added. “If she managed to successfully integrate even half of what I did to you guys, I’d put her chances of survival at seventy percent, even with the radiation. How she’ll heal from it, I’m not sure, but unless there’s a body, she’s still being a waste of oxygen.”

“Maybe she should find the scrubber that’s making it for her and apologize,” PITA piped up.

“That works better when it’s a tree analogy,” Dax mused.

“We’re in space. When was the last time you saw a tree on a spaceship?” PITA asked.

“About twenty minutes ago,” Dalia said. “They’ve got some in the Alcazar.”

“Well, I didn’t know that, did I?” PITA asked, sarcasm dripping from his speakers.

“Aren’t you an AI?” Henuva asked.

“Not a smart one,” Sandrina chimed in.

“I am smart,” PITA countered.

The engines roared to life, sending the familiar thrum through Dax’s boots. Mark pulled back on the controls, lifting the ship off the deck . He turned it toward the open hangar doors and advanced.

“Having knowledge isn’t the same thing as being smart,” Dax countered. “I can’t tell you how many students went through my class and got straight A’s when no one else did. Do you know where most of them are now?”

“I bet you’re going to tell me regardless of whether I want to hear it or not,” PITA replied.

“Flipping burgers and sweeping floors,” Dax said. “There’s nothing wrong with that. Those are admirable jobs that have to be done, but you’re not paying off a hundred-thousand-dollar student loan doing that work.”

“You sound like my mother,” Mark huffed.

“You leave Ashley out of this. She’s a kind and wise woman,” Sandrina chimed in.

“You’re not wrong, but I’ve still heard her say that,” Mark countered.

He exited the space station. Activating the engines, they pulled away from the Alcazar.

“Do you want to know who’s doing the best out of all of my students?” Dax asked.

“Some kid who passed by the skin of his teeth?” PITA shot back.

“No, those were the slackers. It’s my kids who got C’s. Yeah, they may not have memorized everything in the syllabus, but that just means that they aren’t great at regurgitating facts from a book,” Dax continued to explain, taking a sip from his coffee. “But they could out think, out talk, and out negotiate just about anyone because they knew what their strengths were, and more importantly, they knew how to use those strengths to their benefits.”

“Like Dexter Jettster would put it,” Mark said before clearing his throat, putting on his best impersonation. “There’s a difference between knowledge and, he-he, wisdom.”

Dax walked to Mark’s side. He handed over the puck Dan gave him. Mark placed it on a console and downloaded the location. After a few seconds, the Junkyard plotted a course. Mark grabbed the accelerator and pushed it forward. Space warped in front of them with a swirling blue hue once the leap drive flung them into an artificial wormhole.

“Precisely,” Dax said, looking at PITA. “Unfortunately, like the Jedi, your basis is in knowledge, Mark, and the Junkyard didn’t program you for wisdom.”

“That’s what you two think. Be wary, though. If you’re not careful, I may decide to Order 66 you,” PITA warned.

26

ODD DISCOVERIES

“Dax, would you please wake up?” the Junkyard asked.

Her robotic voice was softer, more human than before. He opened his eyes, blinking his dark room into focus. The nest he and Dalia called a bed cradled him in a position he’d never thought would be comfortable.

“Sensors indicate your eyes are open,” the ship whispered.

“Give me a second,” Dax grumbled. “My brain’s still booting up.”

“How can your brain be booting? You’re not a computer.”

Dax rolled his eyes. He gently touched Dalia’s arms, which were wrapped around him, holding him close, pressed against her body. He took a deep breath, savoring the peace of his bed for a few more seconds.

As slowly and gently as he could, Dax lifted Dalia’s arm and slid out from under her. He placed it back before giving her forehead a gentle kiss. He walked as quietly as he could to the mirror in his room and grabbed a makeshift comb he’d scavenged.

“Why are you beginning your morning routine?” the Junkyard asked.

“It’s called a routine for a reason,” Dax whispered. “And it’s not the whole thing, just getting rid of some bed hair.”

He ran the comb through his slightly disheveled hair and beard, bringing them back to their usual pristine appearance. An itch toyed with the back of his throat, causing him to stifle a cough. He glanced back at Dalia, sleeping soundly in their bed.

Dax froze for a second, looking at her braided hair draped elegantly across her shoulder. Her strong, delicate features relaxed without worry or anger. He couldn’t help but take a few seconds to adore her, reigniting the warmth in his chest that seemed to grow every day.

“Ah-hem,” the ship said.

“Did you just clear your throat at me?” Dax asked in a whisper.

The dull red light that illuminated the room just over his door blinked twice. With a disgruntled sigh, Dax carefully and quietly opened the door. He stepped out and shut it behind him.

“You don’t have a throat. Why are you clearing it at me?”

“Mark has requested to speak with you,” the ship replied. “And you weren’t getting a move on it.”

“We have time, you know. We’re not set to reach this mystery planet for…”

“Another twelve hours, yes, that is what Mark wants to speak with you about.”

“Is anyone else awake?”

“I have roused Henuva.”

A series of muffled rants and curses rose from the Valtukta’s room. After a few seconds, the door flew open. Henuva stumbled out in nothing but his underwear. His robotic toes were askew on his foot while the arm remained on its charger at the foot of the bed.

“I get it, I’m up, you relentless computer,” he snarled.

“I’m a true artificial intelligence, not a computer,” the Junkyard countered from inside his room. “That’s the derogatory equivalent of me calling you pointy.”

“Or in this case, half-point,” Dax chimed in.

Henuva looked at Dax, his silver hair a tangled mess from the abrupt wakeup call. He looked Dax up and down and scoffed.

“Do you ever not look perfect?” he asked.

“He did take several seconds to get himself squared away,” the Junkyard said.

“You couldn’t give me a couple seconds?” Henuva asked.

“Just run your fingers through your hair, you’ll be fine,” Dax explained. “Everyone else is asleep. Do you want me to grab your arm?”

“I’m fine without the arm,” Henuva countered. “I’m more worried about what wisecracks PITA’s going to throw out.”

“PITA is on his charger, what you would consider unconscious,” the ship explained.

“Glad to hear that.”

Henuva shuffled toward the main deck. Each step with his cybernetic toes resulted in a limp.

“You know…” Dax started.

“Yes, but unlike you and Kane, I sleep alone, so the Junkyard decided to flash the lights in my room to wake me up. I ended up putting my foot on wrong.”

“You should’ve seen him, it was funny,” the ship replied.

“When you ran your update, did you accidentally cross-contaminate some of your code with PITA’s?” Dax asked. “Because that was a very PITA thing for you to do.”

“No, I was following Mark’s directions to the letter. He is waiting for you.”

“Okay, okay, we’ll get going,” Dax relented.

He approached Henuva. Looking at the Valtukta’s foot, he lowered his shoulder.

“Want to use me to steady yourself until we get there?”

“I think I’ll be good for thirty feet,” Henuva countered.

Dax continued toward Mark. Henuva’s foot let out a soft clang every time he limped forward. After five feet, a grumble of frustration left the Valtukta. Dax turned around to see Henuva leaning against the wall with one ankle resting on his knee. He pulled the attachment off, flipped it around and socketed it back onto his foot.

“There,” he snarled. “You happy now?”

“I am,” the ship replied.

“You do you,” Dax said.

He continued forward. Entering the main deck, Dax looked at the empty pilot’s chair. He glanced around. The damaged suits sat in their tubes, charging, with no sign of Mark.

Henuva caught up. He pointed toward the dining hall. Soft blue light flickered from inside while the scent of roasted bug teased Dax’s nostrils.

“Oh man,” he whispered.

“What?” Henuva asked.

“He cooked the last bug steak.”

“Oh… oh no. That is less than ideal.”

“You think?”

Dax rushed across the deck. He descended into the kitchen to see a highly disheveled Mark sitting in the booth, a mostly eaten bug steak in front of him along with one of Kane’s ‘hidden’ bottles of whisky. His data pad flickered in front of him, illuminating the dimly lit room.

“You good, Mark?” Dax asked.

Mark looked up from his data pad and took a swig from the bottle. Setting it down, he pushed it across the table and motioned to it. Henuva entered the mess hall, only to draw Mark’s full attention.

“Did you know about this?” he asked.

“About what?” Henuva replied.

“About the race in this particular system.”

Mark held up the data pad. On it was a display of a planet being orbited by a blue star on one side and a brown dwarf on the other. Henuva stepped forward. He inspected the pad without touching it and slowly shook his head.

“It doesn’t look familiar to me, why?”

“Junkyard?” Mark asked.

“Vitals indicate he’s telling the truth,” the ship replied.

Dax watched Henuva straighten up. He ran his hands over his torso while looking at the ceiling.

“I don’t appreciate that level of invasion of privacy,” he said.

“I don’t much enjoy invading your privacy like that,” Mark replied. “But I needed to be sure.”

Dax moved forward, taking a look at the data pad as well. He watched the scan results of the planet and tilted his head to one side.

“I knew about binary star systems. I didn’t think they orbited a planet, though,” Dax said.

“That’s the thing, they shouldn’t be able to,” Mark said, motioning toward the seat. “Sit down.”

Dax slid into the booth with Henuva close behind.

“Don’t binary star systems collapse in on each other?” Dax asked.

“The laws of physics as we know them say they’re supposed to,” Mark replied. “My mom even gave me a little lecture about how the gravitational pull would be so inconsistent, any planets trapped in the center would be ripped apart. It’d be too volatile for life to survive there, even if colonized.”

“Are you telling us that the Galio is sending us to our deaths?” Henuva asked.

Mark looked from the Valtukta, back to Dax, then took another swig.

“I don’t think so. All of the scans are showing a stable system, as you can see.” He motioned toward the data pad. “There are radio signals as well. We can’t decipher them, but they are artificial, meaning there’s intelligent life.”

“And Dan said our contact is bald, implying they’re mammalian as well,” Dax added.

He looked at Henuva, then back toward the data pad.

“Are you sure you know nothing about this? Or a race known as gods your people give a lot of space to? No pun intended.”

“The empress is the only goddess we’re allowed to worship,” Henuva said.

“And you believe her?” Dax asked.

Henuva grabbed the bottle and took a swig. Wincing at the booze, he set it down before leaning back in the booth.

“Absolutely not.” The Valtukta chuckled. “I’m a man of science. I operate off empirical evidence, and our empress is nothing but a regular Valtukta with a god complex. But that’s a whole different can of worms.”

“Before she took over, what was your peoples’ take on gods?” Mark asked.

“To each their own. There’s too much order for all of this to have come from nothing. Besides, nothing can come from nothing. Looking from micro to macro, I’m convinced it was designed.”

“You think this race could’ve done that?” Mark asked.

“Absolutely not,” Henuva scoffed. “In order to create something, you’d have to exist in a higher plane of existence. You can’t create living 3D art, not with true life. You can bring life to paper or clay with paint words, malleability, but it’s not a living, conscious thing.”

“You played god with us,” Dax countered.

“I played Dr. Frankenstein with you. I’m an editor, not a creator,” Henuva said.

“Can we please get back on topic?” Mark jumped in. “Pontificating the existential crisis of creation, existence and the meaning of life isn’t the reason I woke you two up. I woke you two up because I need information from Henuva.”

“Which I don’t seem to have. I’m sorry,” the Valtukta replied.

“So be it. I need your analytical brain,” Mark continued.

He slid his hand across the data pad. An atom appeared. Its nucleus was divided into eleven parts, five positive, six negative. Two rings of electrons circled the center. The inner held two electrons while the outer sported three.

Dax touched the atom. The image shifted to a chemical formula. A ‘B’ sat in the center. Three ‘O’s branched from it with an ‘H’ attached to their outer edges. Butterflies fluttered in his gut. His skin started to tingle while he held himself in place. His eyes narrowed while he leaned forward, inspecting the formula.

“That’s interesting,” he muttered.

“What is that?” Henuva asked.

Dax turned toward the Valtukta, his brow knitting together.

“You don’t know what that is?” Dax asked.

“No. Admittedly, most of our periodic table was destroyed in the war and we’ve had to rebuild it from near scratch. I don’t recognize this element.”

“How do you not?” Mark asked. “It’s literally in everything.”

“Maybe everything your people used but not mine. What is it?”

“It’s boron, an element that lacks electrons, so it pulls from other elements around it to stabilize. It’s very effective at neutralizing radiation,” Dax explained. “And this planet seems to be made of the purest version of the stuff I’ve ever seen.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Henuva asked.

“It’s a strange thing. A planet of this size should break apart under its own weight with how brittle boron is,” Mark explained, finishing off his bug steak. “When we land, I’ll have to shut the engines completely down because if they’re on, just being in proximity will strand us. We won’t be able to get back to space.”

“But the radiation in my body might just get neutralized and stop me from going the way of the dinosaurs,” Dax said, looking at Mark. “This is interesting, but was it really necessary to wake us up in the middle of the night, break out the last bug steak and raid Kane’s booze, risking his wrath to show us?”

“No,” Mark said, resting his fingers on the data pad. “But here is what makes the risk worth it, one last scan of the planet’s inhabitants.”

With a slide of Mark’s hand, a pit formed in Dax’s stomach. His chest tightened and his heart slammed like a hammer against his ribcage. A part of his mind screamed that it was a joke, that none of this was real as he leaned forward, looking at the scan of the lifeforms.

“Is that…” Henuva muttered.

“A human?” Mark asked. “Yes.”

27

STRANGE NEW WORLD

“Another planet of humans?” Kane asked, his voice cracking mid-sentence.

“We don’t know that for sure,” Dax countered.

“Look at the scans!” Mark barked.

He pointed at the screen to his left. A 3D scan of a body standing six feet tall with five fingers on each hand and five toes on each foot slowly rotated, with a distinctly human outline.

“That’s just a surface level scan. If we were to run that scan on a Valtukta ship, they’d probably come back looking the exact same,” Sandrina pointed out, before motioning to herself. “Or the Bastet.”

“She’s right,” Henuva replied. “Scanners have an issue picking up the pointed ears. And it can’t really pick up fur or teeth. A scan like this would make a Bastet look human too.”

“What about the Dal’no?” Dalia asked.

Dax looked up at his Battle Bonded with a smirk.

“Sweety, you’re six-foot-five and three feet wide, and you’re one of the smaller of your people. Even with a scan like this, I think it’d be pretty obvious you weren’t human.”

“It depends,” Dalia countered. “I’ve known Dal’no that, when fully grown, they weren’t much larger than you.”

“What happened to them?” Mark asked.

“They were on a planet infested by carnivorous underbeasts where only the strongest survived,” Dalia replied. “What do you think happened to them? If this is a pickup of a single individual, it could be an outlier. If it’s an average for the race, it’ll provide more information.”

“Junkyard?” Dax asked, looking at one of her speakers.

“I’d prefer Jun in this form,” she replied.

Her android body emerged from the crew quarters in tactical yet comfy-looking clothes.

“Okay, Jun, what’s this a scan of?” Kane asked.

“It’s an estimated amalgamation of a scan from thirty-five thousand life forms,” she explained. “There was heavy interference. Out of all the data points, I had to cobble together an estimate of what they’d look like.”

Henuva leaned forward, raising an eyebrow while scratching his chin.

“This is just what you think they look like? Did they have jammers preventing you from getting a better look?”

“No,” Jun said, pointing at the scan. “This image is ninety-six percent accurate. And the data points that were lost weren’t scattered, like a jammer. They just never returned. And before you ask, no, I don’t know why and I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

Sandrina turned her attention to Dalia, resting her hands on her hips.

“That means these people have tech that makes ours look like toys. Not even the Bastet have managed to develop materials that can absorb sensor scans in that way.”

“It definitely outclasses the Valtakuntera too,” Henuva chimed in. “We’ve got surface level radar blocking for smaller ships, but it only works for so long. Everything becomes visible eventually, especially at that sample size.”

A violent shudder ripped through the ship. Everyone was thrown off balance. Henuva collided with the wall. Sandrina and Kane held on to one another. Dax fumbled forward and Dalia grabbed his arm, stopping him from falling.

The blue swirl of light flickered in front of the ship before vanishing. They dropped into normal space. A high-pitched whine screamed from the engines, sending a dump of adrenaline through Dax.

Mark quickly shut off the leap drive, bringing the whining to an end. Dax steadied himself. His eyes locked on the viewport while he listened and sniffed for anything out of the ordinary. The usual scent of rust filled his nostrils, but nothing hinted at burned plastic. Every groan and hum that followed was par for the Junkyard’s course.

“Damage report,” he called out.

“All systems are nominal,” Jun explained.

“Then what pulled us out of leap space?” Dalia asked.

“Something’s draining the excess power from the power core. My sensors aren’t reporting anything. Just a void.”

“I don’t think it’s a void,” Dax said.

Their ship listed forward. A gray, unforgiving-looking planet hung in space before them. The viewport darkened, muting the blinding light of a blue star on one side and a smaller brown one on the other.

“I think we just entered that planet’s sphere of influence,” he added.

“You don’t really think it’s the planet grinding us to a halt, do you?” Kane asked.

“It’s not impossible,” Henuva explained. “I’ve just never seen a planet do it before.”

“What usually does?” Sandrina asked.

“Getting too close to a black hole.”

Jun twitched several times. Her head tilted to one side, followed by an electric buzzing from her mouth. Dalia released Dax’s arm before they both walked over to her, inspecting the android closely.

“Jun, you there?” Dax asked.

“I am. I was checking the instruments of the ship. They are inaccessible. I’m not getting feedback. We’re flying blind.”

“Mark, do you still have control?” Kane asked.

Mark pulled on the yoke. The ship tilted, moving with him.

“I do,” he replied.

“At least there’s that,” Dax said, a hint of relief in his tone. “We do what Dan said. Keep pushing forward. But do it in a way that won’t be perceived as a threat.”

“How do you suggest I do that?” Mark asked.

“I don’t know, fly casual,” Dax replied.

Mark rolled his eyes, letting out his best impression of a rolling roar. He continued to approach the world, giving both stars as much space as possible. As they approached, Dax noticed a concentration of lights set in a deep crater right on the cusp of night turning to day.

“At least we know they’ve got technology,” Dax whispered.

“What’s that?” Dalia asked.

She pointed at what looked like a mountain range that grew out from around the city. Everyone crowded around Mark’s chair, to his discomfort.

“Every one of you is way too close to me right now,” he muttered. “All up in my no-no square.”

“I thought we established your personal space isn’t a no-no square,” Dax replied.

“And we had to because of how you were interacting with me in the beginning,” Dalia added.

Jun turned her attention to Mark. She drummed her fingers against her arm.

“Oh, don’t act surprised,” Mark snapped at the android. “You’ve been present practically since we started all these shenanigans.”

A white dot appeared and grew larger. It drifted peacefully directly at them. Mark pulled back on the throttle, slowing them down with forward thrusters until the strange, white oval slowed to a stop a few hundred yards in front of them.

Dax stared at it. Despite it being a ship of some sort, he could feel it staring back. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kane’s hand instinctively twitch toward his hip where an absent holster was most of the time. Dalia took a few steps back while Henuva slid out of sight and pressed himself against a wall.

“How is that aerodynamic?” Sandrina asked, inching forward.

“Kane, any closer and your cat’ll be on my lap,” Mark grumbled.

“I’m sure you’d like that,” Jun teased.

Before Dax could tell any of them to shut up, a crackle sounded over the speakers. Mark threw his hands up as if to say he wasn’t doing anything. The noise quickly subsided to a low hum followed by someone clearing their throat on the other side. Dax’s knees weakened under his weight while even more adrenaline poured into his system, screaming for them to run.

“Who goes there?” the voice asked.

“We’re the starship Junkyard,” Kane replied. “Dan sent us.”

“I don’t know a Dan,” the voice said.

It was low and powerful, rolling like thunder with each word spoken. Dax cleared his throat, fighting his voice’s urge to crack.

“That’s the name we gave him,” Dax explained. “His real name is Cauroptuquadanebvoc.”

“Oh, Cauro,” the voice replied.

His tone lightened while still rumbling with power.

“He’s got a nightmare of a name. I swear his parents didn’t want him and used that as their petty revenge. He told me you were coming,” the voice said. “Any friend of Cauro is a friend of mine. Follow me, please. Follow my exact path, otherwise, the dragons will take you out.”

The radio cut off while the oval ship turned back toward the world below.

“Dragons?” Mark asked.

“It’s probably an acronym for planetary defenses,” Kane explained. “Just do what he said.”

Dax watched closely as they approached the planet. Confusion swirled in him at the lack of satellites, defenses, or anything that’d be indicative of a spacefaring species. Henuva pushed away from the wall.

“I’m going to arm up,” he said.

“We’re not going to present ourselves as a threat,” Dax countered. “We don’t know enough about this race and Dan is a friend. We don’t betray that trust.”

Everyone but Mark fell silent and looked at Dax. His neck grew warm under his crew members’ gazes. Henuva motioned to his missing limb.

“I mean literally, not in the way of guns,” Henuva countered.

Dax’s head dropped.

“I feel like a jerk,” he muttered.

“Good.” Henuva chuckled.

With a pat on Dax’s back, he made his way to his room.

“Always nice to know you’re self-aware,” he teased.

Dax tossed a sarcastic laugh back to the Valtukta. The pod in front of them flared on re-entry. The flames danced off the nose of the oddly sterile vessel before being pulled into its sides.

A second later, their viewport filled with the heat of re-entry. Mark held their craft in the airstream of their escort. After a few seconds, they punched through the upper atmosphere, giving way to a mountain of clouds. Mark pressed the communication button.

“Hate to break it to you, but it’ll be hard to follow your movements through a cloudbank,” Mark called out.

“That won’t be an issue,” the voice replied.

As it hit the white tufts of evaporated water, a flash of blue light surrounded the alien craft. In the blink of an eye, a hole, three football fields across, was punched through the would-be obscuring wall.

“Well, that’s convenient,” Mark mused.

Dax reached over; he grabbed Dalia’s hand. It was cold and clammy. He looked up at her, giving her a reassuring nod; she swallowed hard and returned the gesture. Suddenly, a proximity alert rang out.

“Incoming on our six, something fast and big,” Jun called out.

“I thought your sensors weren’t working,” Sandrina said.

“It’s not actually reflecting sensor data back. It’s not one of the…”

Before Jun could finish, a massive red lizard with wings twice the Junkyard’s span rushed past them. A woman sat at the base of its enormous, square head. Dax couldn’t get a good look aside from a glimpse of snow-white hair.

It roared, making every muscle in Dax’s body tighten. His inhale was sharp while he instinctively stepped away from the viewport. Kane’s face lit up. He leaned forward to look at the enormous predator while Mark let out an elated squeal.

“Holy crap,” Dax said in a breathless whisper. “Dragons are real.”

“That would be something to hunt,” Dalia replied. “Axe against scale, an honorable trophy.”

“We’re not killing any dragons,” Kane barked. “Besides, if that’s real, it may be able to breath fire as well, which would cook you before you got close enough to do anything to it.”

The dragon flew side-by-side with the pod before them for a few seconds. Once it broke off, moving toward the city, Dax’s muscles relaxed. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding and leaned into Mark’s chair, his heart pounding against his chest.

“If this wasn’t a life and death situation, I’d suggest we turn around and leave,” Dax said, breathlessly.

“I’d agree,” Sandrina added.

The fur around her neck and jawline frilled out, giving her a more intimidating appearance. The ship took a sharp left turn, flying deeper into the jagged, merciless gray mountain range that spread as far as the eye could see.

It passed low over a peak, and Mark followed suit. On the other side, a landing platform was visible under an overhang. Mark slowed with the pod, descending and passing under the gray stone overhead.

The white ship landed; small legs protruded from under it while it set down. Mark turned the Junkyard, landing so the alien craft was a few yards from their cargo bay.

“Jun,” Dax said, taking a deep breath. “What gear will we need to survive out there?”

“None; all atmospheric conditions are normal, gravitational pull is at a one-point-one, according to the human scale.”

Dax pushed off Mark’s chair. His legs wobbled, causing him to stagger. Dalia caught him. After a few deep breaths, he centered himself, getting blood flow back to his limbs.

“Seriously?” Kane asked with a judgmental look.

“We’ve seen some crazy things, but a bug mountain is a little different than galactic leviathans or freaking dragons,” Dax countered.

“You’re telling me, if we’re given the chance, you’re not going to try to ride one of those things?” Mark asked.

“Do I have white hair? Is my name Hiccup? Do I look like a donkey to you?” Dax asked. “Dragons are where I draw my line.”

“Who knew you had one,” Dalia teased.

Dax shot her a playful glance before sticking his tongue out at her. She let him go while Henuva returned, his robotic arm in place.

“It’s rude to keep your host waiting,” the voice on the radio called out.

“On our way, sorry,” Dax replied.

“No need to apologize, just wanted to make sure my lady didn’t scare you all too much,” he said with a chuckle.

“Only a little,” Sandrina added.

Dax started toward the ladder, his crew following close behind.

“What’d I miss?” Henuva asked.

“This world’s got dragons,” Dax replied.

“Dragons?”

“Think leviathan, only not planetary in size, more teeth and a more horrifying death if they catch you in their claws or teeth,” Kane explained with a wide grin. “This’ll be fun!”

“I should’ve just stayed where you guys tied me up,” Henuva grumbled. “Life would’ve been so much easier.”

“But far less fun,” Dax countered.

He grabbed the ladder and quickly descended into the cargo bay. While the others followed, he marched to the controls and activated the ramp. It lowered, revealing a mountain of a being covered head to toe in armor. An omega symbol with what looked like a lightning bolt in the arch and two dots near each turn glowed a brilliant blue on his chest.

“Well, that’s interesting,” the man mused.

“I’m Dax; this is my crew,” he said.

The man put two fingers on a vambrace on his left forearm. Strange symbols started to glow. His helmet retracted. Dax took a half step back, Sandrina and Dalia let out a gasp and Henuva started to laugh. The man was bald with a light complexion and neatly trimmed facial hair. Aside from his unnaturally blue eyes, he was indistinguishable from half the crew.

“Told you!” Mark shouted. “Freaking humans!”

A perplexed expression spread across his features.

“You speak Boronian?” the man asked.

Dax’s translator remained oddly motionless in his skull, unlike when it was active.

“You speak English?” Dax asked.

“My name is Xero, and it appears we have a lot to discuss. Your android needs to stay on the ship for her own protection. The rest of you are going to want to come with me.”

28

GODS AND MEN

Dax stood in front of his team in the center of a lab. Chemicals dripped into beakers. Advanced centrifuges spun vials of glowing liquid. The mountain of a man stepped onto a pad on the floor. A pulse of blue light coursed through his armor, causing it to quickly retract into the vambrace before shrinking even further into a bracelet. The crest that glowed on his chest was etched into the muted silvery metal.

He turned, his form-fitting suit moving as if it were part of his own skin. His eyes locked with Dax’s. Xero’s face was calm, his demeanor was non-aggressive. An icy grip still held Dax tight. His skin grew cold, and his body refused to move, or even break eye contact with the being that thinly concealed an unknown, terrifying power.

Xero finally broke the heavy silence, his voice still rumbling with each word. “You ingested radiation,” he said.

“Dan told you?” Dax asked.

“No, I can see it glowing inside you like a fire. Even with your impressive genetics, it will kill you.”

“What do you have, x-ray vision?” Mark scoffed.

“No, but I can see and feel radiation. It permeates him like a gas,” Xero replied.

“Dan said you could heal him?” Dalia asked.

“No, my people thrive on that kind of energy. It makes us stronger. We wouldn’t create a way to neutralize that advantage.”

“Then why’d we waste our time coming here?” Dalia growled.

His eyes shot to her. A single look forced her to take a step back, her thinly veiled rage evaporating.

“Because he doesn’t have enough of our genetics in him to hold on to it. The planet will consume it, neutralizing it and stabilizing him,” Xero explained.

Dax watched his fingers dance across his bracelet. It flickered with light. Tears in the ceiling opened beside Xero. Disbelief gripped Dax, looking inside of the Junkyard. A split second later, the heavily damaged suits fell through the ceiling and clattered on the floor.

“Wh…what was that?” Dax asked.

His mind screamed, trying to connect what he saw with what he knew about physics and reality.

“You can do magic?” Mark asked.

“It’s not magic,” Xero replied.

He clenched his fists, closing the glowing holes in the roof.

“It’s technology using quantum entanglement and atomic superpositions to open personalized wormholes,” Xero explained. “I don’t expect you to understand.”

“Give this one a few seconds,” Kane said, nodding at Dax.

The professor stepped forward, rubbing his beard while looking at the piles of armor on the ground, his eyes wide and mouth agape.

“The power levels you’d need to pull off something like that are more than the power consumption of three planets in a year,” Dax muttered. “And the technology you’d need to pull this off would be the size of a skyscraper.”

“We Boronians are the power source. As for the technology, we’re more advanced than we look.” He turned toward the suits before picking two up. “Now, our mutual friend said you needed some repairs done. Which one of you can help me fix these suits?”

Mark stepped forward with his hand raised.

“The honor would be mine.”

“Good. The rest of you, make yourselves at home, but don’t touch anything, especially the weapons,” Xero warned.

“Are you worried we’ll use them against you?” Kane asked.

“I’m worried that you won’t have the power stored in your body to fuel them,” Xero replied. “And if you don’t, it’ll pull every bit of bioelectricity your body has to try and fire. It’d kill you before you knew what happened.”

Sandrina rushed to the scientific equipment, investigating the devices and experiments closely. Kane made his way to a wall of rifles while Dalia approached a sword forged of marbled silver and translucent gold.

The fog that consumed Dax’s mind prevented him from forming a coherent sentence. He played the conversation over and over again in his head. Each time, the words of the giant grew slightly more clear.

“Wait,” Dax shouted.

Everyone froze in place and turned toward him. Dax pointed at Xero.

“You said I don’t have enough of your genetics; what’d you mean by that?”

“Exactly what I said.”

“Are you saying our races are related?” Dax asked.

Xero grimaced. He held Dax’s suit over a circular pad on the ground. With a strange flash of light, it held the armor in place. He put the other up, sticking it in the air as well.

“Yes and no, if that makes any sense.”

“It absolutely does not,” Mark countered.

“Yeah, you want to clarify this?” Kane asked. “This puts a bit of a spin on our origins.”

“Your species happens to look exactly like ours. I enjoyed visiting your race in its younger days. A bunch of our people got sick; this world started sapping their life from them,” Xero explained. “Sol 3, as we call it, had a stable environment with a local populace that looked exactly like we did. To save our race, we teleported all of those who were sick to your world.”

“Are you invading them?” Dalia asked.

“Our mass teleportation technology isn’t as up to par as our individual units. There were complications,” Xero explained.

He took the third suit from Mark and put it in place as well.

“System, run a diagnostic on the suits; give me a detailed damage report,” Xero ordered.

A split second later, Xero’s bracelet blinked. A holographic display of all three suits with their damage listed appeared above his wrist.

“You going to tell us what kind of complications?” Dax asked.

“The kind that affected time dilation. They were thrown back to when your civilization just stopped using rocks and spears. Some ended up fighting off the illness and manifested, the rest blended in with your people thousands of years ago,” Xero explained. “You all have our DNA in you. It’s just a matter of how concentrated.”

Dax fell back. A seat emerged from the ground, gently catching him.

“Manifested?” Kane asked.

Dalia made her way to Dax and put her hands on his shoulders, rubbing them to bring his concentration back to the room.

“Who do you think Zeus, Thor, Santa Claus, all of your mythological deities came from?” Xero asked. “Your stories about dragons, wyrms, golems. Where do you think they came from?”

“Unicorns?” Mark asked. “Do you have unicorns here?”

“No, that’d be what you would call a rhinoceros,” Xero corrected.

“The dormant genes I activated in them, were those Boronian as well?” Henuva asked.

“If they were capable of having those genes activated, you wouldn’t be here right now,” Xero countered.

“The gods were real?” Dax asked.

“Sort of. They were just affected by the illness and the stabilizing properties of your world, so instead of regaining their equilibrium, they manifested in more fantastical ways,” Xero continued. “But we’re not immortal, we grow old, and we die. Within five generations, their powers were little more than parlor tricks, returning humanity back to its default.”

A beep rang out. The floor shifted next to Xero before opening, revealing a chest of strange devices. They were pushed upward to be at a comfortable grabbing height for Xero.

“Holographic overlay of needed repairs,” Xero ordered.

Red lights flickered over most of all three suits. He chuckled before handing a tool to Mark.

“It’s a good thing you need to stay here because this is going to take a while,” Xero said.

“Don’t I need eye protection?” Mark asked.

A new compartment emerged on top of the toolbox. It opened, revealing a set of darkened glasses.

“You just happened to have these in there?” Mark asked, putting them on.

“No, it’s a rapid fabricator that can make just about anything I need and break it down once it’s done to prevent waste.”

“Before we get started, I know my suit isn’t damaged, but can I add a little of this to mine and give me the same benefits whatever our patching’s going to do?” Mark asked.

Xero nodded. With a swipe of his fingers and a clench of his fist, Mark’s suit fell through the ceiling. It was caught on the same pad as the others.

“Of course,” Xero replied.

Dalia moved in front of Dax. She gently cupped his face in her hands while kneeling in front of him. His mind swirled like a hurricane, trying to piece the information together in a way he could make sense of it. Her touch helped tether him, bringing him back to the moment at hand.

“Are you okay, my love?” she asked.

“I don’t think so,” he muttered.

29

PULLED TOGETHER

Dax’s mind raced for nearly an hour on the implications of Xero’s words. The large man and Mark worked, piecing the suits back together while Kane picked up some of the rifles and pistols to inspect them.

Sandrina fiddled around with the lab equipment not in use, learning as much as she could from it. Dalia left Dax to process while she inspected the melee weapons. She continued coming back to the blade that looked like it was forged from pallasite.

He pulled himself back to the situation at hand. The muted sounds of conversation sharpened. His senses, once dulled, returned to normal just in time to see Dalia reach for the blade. Xero dropped his tools, vanishing from view. A gust of wind shot through the lab before he appeared in front of Dalia, his hand on her wrist.

“Don’t, not that one,” Xero said in a low tone. “You can touch all the other melee weapons you want, but not Starfall.”

“Will it drain me of my life force?” Dalia asked with a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

“No. It’ll flood your brain with its long, blood-soaked history and leave you a husk of your former self,” Xero warned.

His voice was low and cold. His eyes burned with a terrifying intensity as he lowered Dalia’s hand and released her.

“There are things worse than death. And the state this will put you in is one of those things.”

“But I’m sure you can touch it,” Dalia mused.

“Yes, but only me.”

“That’s convenient,” Kane said, putting a gun down.

Xero turned his attention to his bracelet. With a few taps of his fingers, he extended his arm. A hologram of what looked like a security recording floated in the air. Xero stood next to a young man about his own age inspecting the sword sticking out of a stone.

“I hear it,” Xero’s recording said. “I think it’s calling to me.”

“I am the son of the Triad General. It is my right to wield.”

“This isn’t one of those top-of-the-line weapons in development,” Xero countered. “Unless it calls you, you can’t touch it.”

“I am called,” the other man huffed. “And you cannot stop me.”

Xero tried to grab his friend. With a quick strike to the chest, Xero flew into a rock wall twenty feet away, cracking it. He brushed himself off, seemingly unaffected by the impact.

Before Xero could stop his friend, the other man’s hand was wrapped around Starfall’s hilt. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and his body started to seize. Blood poured out of his nose, ears and eyes before Xero tackled him free.

Without a word, Xero summoned a portal under them. They fell through, and muffled shouts for help rang out. Dax watched every movement closely; he focused his hearing on the distant voices. He heard the name of the sword accompanied by an uproar from others whom he assumed were physicians.

Xero jumped back through the open portal. He marched over to the blade and stared at it for a few seconds.

“Masa’ani,” he muttered. “I hope your son Disa isn’t as foolish as you.”

He grabbed the weapon, pulled it from the stone and placed it on his belt. A sheath unfolded from the belt and encompassed the sword. The feed changed when Xero swiped his hand, showing what looked like a live feed of an older-looking man. His eyes were blank as he stared ahead. His jaw hung slack, and head tilted to one side.

“This is him now. It’s been five years. He hasn’t so much as blinked,” Xero explained.

“That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?” Dalia asked.

“No one punished him. Touching this sword for my kind is like touching fire for yours. Instead of burning your flesh, it burns your mind.”

“Unless you’re chosen?” Dax asked.

“I don’t know how it works; I’ve tried studying it. Every test has proven inconclusive,” Xero replied. “My working theory is it has to do with a cerebral structure that allows one to process the sheer volume of data stored in it.”

Dax stood from his chair. He rubbed his head, trying to focus on something that wouldn’t overload his mind.

“Your friend didn’t use contractions,” he said.

“What?” Dalia asked, turning toward him.

“Is that what you picked up on from all of that?” Sandrina asked.

“Is anyone going to help me with this? I don’t exactly know what I’m doing with these tools and materials,” Mark called out.

His tone was pointed while looking at Xero.

“Sorry,” Xero said.

In another gust of wind, he vanished then re-appeared next to Mark. Picking up the tools, he started working on repairing the suits once more.

“What do you mean?” Xero asked.

“Ignore him,” Kane cut in. “He’s a language professor grasping at something to make sense out of all of this.”

“Xero’s going to repair the suit, giving it a certain level of energy absorption and storage,” Mark said.

“He said I am, not I’m; it is, not it’s; cannot, not can’t,” Dax pressed. “Why not?”

“It’s how my people speak; they don’t use what you call contractions,” Xero explained.

He kept his eyes on his work. Mark watched closely, mirroring the spraying technique Xero used.

“Then why do you?” Dax asked. “I don’t mean to be rude or anything. I’m just curious.”

“You are clearly a well-traveled man,” Xero explained. “If you went back to your home, would you speak the same way as your community? Or would you have picked up sayings, idioms, even the linguistic structures of those you’ve been around?”

Xero stopped his work; he turned to look at Dax with a hint of a smile on his face.

“We may be an isolationist race for the protection of others, but we do still send out a handful of scouts every so often to learn the state of the galaxy,” Xero explained. “I happened to be one of those scouts. And in my travels, I picked up a thing or two.”

Dax’s shoulders slumped. His racing mind slowed while processing Xero’s reasoning. As it did, it helped him regain full control of himself, pushing the overbearing sensation off himself.

“That’s odd, but interesting,” he murmured.

“So, you know about my people?” Henuva asked, staying in a corner.

“I do,” Xero said in Valtukta, continuing his work. “I’m even familiar with your handiwork.”

“You are?” Henuva asked.

“Where do you think embryo forty-two went?” Xero asked. “I was curious what kind of headway you were making with your gene altering. It was very impressive. Did the final results prove fruitful?”

Henuva’s expression dropped before flaring with anger.

“That was you?” he snarled.

“I’m afraid it was,” Xero replied.

“The empress noticed that missing embryo. When we couldn’t find it, she executed my best friend for losing it.”

Xero’s expression fell. He lowered his tools and turned to face Henuva.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think it’d be noticed out of the millions of samples you had. If I had known the repercussions, I never would’ve touched it.”

“I blamed myself for his death for years,” Henuva growled.

Dax noticed the Valtukta’s robotic fingers twitched.

“Henuva, don’t,” Dax warned. “Just take a deep breath and go back to the ship.”

“No,” Xero cut in. “Let him do what he feels he needs to.”

Before Xero finished speaking, Henuva’s hand was up. He fired a plasma round from his palm. It struck their guest in the forehead. Horror twisted within Dax, seeing the bolt splash in every direction.

The superheated gas stopped before any could hit Mark less than three feet away. To Dax’s disbelief, it flowed back toward Xero, touching his skin before vanishing into it. The Boronian sat there, unfazed by the shot and without a mark on him. Relief overtook Dax, accompanied by a slow, unsteady exhale.

“Plasma is little more than a form of pure radiation. What part of my people feed on that don’t you understand?” Xero asked. “Even your Bastet weapons wouldn’t put a scratch in me.”

Henuva closed his fist. His arm kicked as his appendage was launched at Xero. It struck him square in the nose. The Boronian didn’t move while Henuva’s hand fell to the ground, its metal fingers mangled from the impact.

“I survived a mine that detonated with the force of a supernova closer to me than your suits of armor are now. You don’t have a weapon that can hurt me,” Xero said plainly. “The only reason I’m allowing you to do this is because I know what it’s like to lose a friend due to the actions of another.”

“You knew about the bugs, and you didn’t do anything?” Sandrina asked. “My people are scattered to the wind. We’re almost extinct because you didn’t intervene!”

“Guys, can we please wait to piss off the giant, invulnerable godman until after we get what we need?” Mark asked. “Or preferably never?”

“I’m not a god,” Xero replied. “My race just happens to be one of the most powerful in the galaxy.”

“And yet worlds die because you don’t intervene,” Dalia countered.

“Ladies, and yes, I’m talking to you too, Henuva, take a deep breath,” Kane said, putting his hands up. “I get tensions are high, but Mark’s right. Let’s not be rude to the man helping us.”

“Helping us?” Sandrina scoffed. “If he had destroyed the bug embryos, the cordyceps would never have happened, along with countless lives never having been lost.”

Xero reached down; he picked up Henuva’s hand and placed it on his workbench. It closed around it and hummed for several seconds. While it did, Dax moved to Dalia’s side. Her fists and jaws were clenched while she stared Xero down. He placed a hand on her, the same as she’d do to help calm him.

A soft ping rang out from the bench. The box retracted, revealing Henuva’s hand in perfect condition. Xero grabbed it, stood up and walked over to Henuva.

“We have good reason for not interfering anymore,” Xero confessed.

He turned the hand over. Henuva reluctantly reattached it.

“We used to. Our technology was given to a particularly intelligent and kind race of green giants,” Xero said in Dal’no, looking at Dalia before turning toward Sandrina and shifting to Bastet. “We also raised a furry race up, giving them technology that would help them overcome the overly hostile world their ancestors were dumped on.”

He changed his attention back to Henuva while switching back to Valtukta.

“We were even gracious enough to lend our forces to try and help save the home world of a race warring against the Void Serpents.”

“Our history never mentioned your army coming to help,” Henuva hissed.

“It’s because we didn’t send an army,” Xero replied. “We sent a single man.”

“What’s one man supposed to do against a leviathan?” Kane scoffed.

Dalia’s muscles tightened. Dax pulled himself closer to her, trying to soothe her, to no avail.

“He wiped nearly all of them out,” Xero explained. “When it was clear the Valtukta home world was lost, we helped coordinate their evacuation. Our one soldier unleashed the true power of our people, drew every one of the Void Serpents toward him, then he released all the radiation he’d been storing his entire life. It killed him, but it gave the Valtukta a chance at life.”

He turned his back toward Kane so he could see Henuva, Sandrina and Dalia to address all three.

“If we hadn’t intervened, the Valtukta would be extinct. If we had known that they would proceed to target any race mine attempted to help, and the bloodshed that came with it, I doubt my ancestors would’ve been willing to send aid,” Xero explained. “That’s why we’ve become isolationists. One act of good caused so much suffering. For that, we are sorry. It’s why I’m willing to help the one you call Dan. It’s not much, but it’s a way to give back for everything we’re responsible for taking.”

“I call bull crap,” Dax said.

His words slipped out before he knew what was happening. He winced as everyone’s attention, and frustration, was turned toward him.

“Can your people see the future?” Dax asked.

Xero shook his head.

“Okay, then you were helping a race in trouble. It’s not your fault the Valtukta were taken over by a megalomaniacal sociopath who targeted the other races you tried to help,” Dax said. “Should you have stepped in? Probably, but they’re responsible for their own actions. You say you’re not a god, but if you take responsibility for something you have no control over, that’s called a god complex.”

Dax grimaced as the word vomit continued to pour.

“I’m going to get in so much trouble for this,” he groaned. “But, ladies. This specimen of a man had nothing to do with the bugs on your worlds. Henuva did. You’re not still ticked at him; he’s a welcome member of our team, so you can’t be mad at Xero for the infestations, or the cordyceps, because one of those two falls directly on me.”

The tension in the room immediately thickened. Dax felt it surrounding him like plastic over his face. Mark spun in his seat, lifted his glasses up and motioned to the half-repaired suits.

“Seriously, if you children don’t stop fighting, I’m never going to get this done and I will pull this oddly beautiful planet over!” he snapped.

30

SO LONG

Dax watched while Xero set his device on his work bench. Mark did the same. They both sat back and looked at their handiwork. All three suits were back in fighting shape. Xero stood up. He reached into the connection point of Dax’s helmet. With a twist, he pulled the broken base out.

“I don’t think I can fix this,” he said.

“You don’t have a helmet we could buy off you, do you?” Dax asked.

“We don’t take galactic credits,” Xero replied. “And besides, our armor is a closely guarded secret.”

“Let me guess, it’ll kill us if we wear it?” Kane asked.

“No, just top-secret technology,” Xero replied. “Patchwork is one thing, but a helmet’s something different. Besides, your suit isn’t built to handle the electronics of my people.”

He tapped on his bracelet before looking at Dax.

“Put them back where I found them?” he asked.

“Please,” Dax replied.

Reality ripped open under them. The suits dropped through while arguing between Sandrina, Henuva and Dalia roared from the main deck. It vanished when the holes shut.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to start a fight among your friends. I hope you understand our choice to stay out of the conflict isn’t personal.”

“We get it,” Kane chimed in.

“Yeah, sometimes doing what seems to be the right thing can end up blowing up in your face,” Mark added, motioning to himself then Kane. “That’s what got the two of us in this position.”

Xero looked at both men before turning back to Dax.

“And you?”

“Vengeance,” Dax replied.

“Justified?”

“As much as it could be.”

“Then good for you,” Xero replied.

He paused for a few moments, looking at the three humans. Dax tried to read the muscle-bound humanoid. It was nearly impossible.

“Can I show you guys something?” he asked after a few seconds.

“Depends,” Dax replied. “Is it going to scramble us?”

“No, but seeing as you’re going to be leaving soon, I have something I need to show someone, and you seem like the right crew to show,” he said.

“This doesn’t count as planetary secrets?” Kane asked.

“Not even my brother, sister-in-law, or their children know about it.” Xero chuckled.

Xero opened his hands, extended his arms, and made a sweeping motion with them. Everything in his lab moved to the outer walls.

“You’re going to want to step back a bit,” he warned.

Everyone followed his instructions. Xero took several deep breaths. A blue aura flickered from him. Dax watched the man clench his teeth while flexing every muscle in his body. The aura started to dance around him, accompanied by a wave of heat.

As he let out a primal roar, the aura erupted into tongues of plasma, whipping into the air above him. The ceiling seemed to drink in the energy. Dax took a half step back. His body wanted to run, but his educational mind screamed for him to stay and try to learn what was happening.

Another crest started to glow, this time in the ceiling. Xero powered down and took a step back.

“I didn’t think anyone could actually go Super Saiyan Blue,” Mark mused.

“His hair didn’t change. That wasn’t Super Saiyan,” Dax countered.

Silently, a series of concentrically smaller rings appeared around the crest. Parts of the ceiling started to descend toward them. After a few inches, one layer would stop, and the center would continue going. Like an upside-down tiered cake, the roof moved in front of them.

Xero grabbed the smallest cylinder. He pulled on either side, breaking it away. In the center sat a strange statue with wings holding a shining blue stone. Dax felt warmth radiate from it followed by the itch in his throat disappearing.

“That’s beautiful,” Kane whispered. “What is it?”

“The sickness that nearly claimed my people has returned. I’ve made this as a possible cure,” Xero explained. “It’s rare, mythological. No one thought it existed, but I managed to forge it.”

“A rock can cure people from being sick?” Mark asked.

“It interacts with our physiology a little differently than yours,” Xero explained, looking at Dax. “And it looks like you’re all healed up and ready to go. I see nothing radioactive in you anymore.”

“What would happen if Dax were to crush that up and inhale it?” Mark asked. “He’s got this spitting sack in the back of his throat that filters out toxins, refines them and lets him spit them at enemies. Kind of like Godzilla.”

“Nothing like Godzilla,” Dax chimed in.

“I’d imagine he would explode,” Xero replied.

“Everyone was thinking it. I just had to ask,” he replied.

“No, they weren’t; Kane wasn’t,” Dax countered, looking at the soldier.

“Actually yes, I kind of was,” Kane confessed.

“Well, I’m not crushing up a blue rock and sniffing it. He’s not Walter White, despite having the hairstyle, and that’s a superweapon in an uncomfortably ominous statue,” Dax argued. “Even if Xero wasn’t here, I’m smart enough to know what not to touch.”

“It’s good to see some wisdom has persisted through the generations,” Xero mused.

He put the sides back around the stone, causing the vault to recede into the ceiling.

“I appreciate all of the help. If there’s anything we can do for you, just let us know,” Dax said, offering a hand.

“A friend of Cauroptuquadanebvoc is a friend of mine,” Xero replied.

He grabbed Dax by the forearm. His grip was like a bear trap. Dax squeezed back. Xero’s forearm flexed. His muscles were like steel cord under his skin.

“Quite a grip you’ve got there,” Dax mused.

“Not a bad one yourself,” Xero replied.

With a shake, the Boronian moved to Kane and shook forearms.

“Are we going to need to look out for dragons on our way out?” the soldier asked.

“No, if you made it to the surface, it’s pretty sure you’re supposed to be here,” Xero replied. “You won’t have to worry about any of the defenses in place.”

“What kind of defenses?” Mark asked.

They moved toward one another.

“Shields that would crush your ship to the size of a repair dispenser,” Xero replied, motioning toward the tools he and Mark used. “Thank you for the help.”

“Thank you for the teaching,” Mark replied. “I’d kill for another opportunity.”

“I’ll make you a deal. You take care of the Valtakuntera problem, I’ll be more than happy to teach you more.”

“I’d like to learn more about your hand in our history,” Dax said, making his way toward the door.

“I’d like hearing more about your people.”

“You’ll have no one better to go on rants for you,” Kane jested.

Dax let out a sarcastic laugh while making his way back to the landing pad. He inspected the polished white oval of a ship. No viewport or door seams marred its surface.

“I’d kill to see inside of that thing,” he muttered.

“I’d kill to get my hands on any of their tech,” Mark mused.

“Judging by all the other stuff, it’d probably kill you if you activated anything more than a USB.” Kane chuckled.

“More than likely,” Dax said.

They ascended the ramp into their ship. Mark shut the vessel while Dax ascended the ladder. He made his way to the main deck to see Henuva, Sandrina and Dalia sitting on the deck, an empty glass bottle between them.

“You guys good?” Dax asked, looking between them.

“After a little bit of negotiating, we’ve decided that we’re good,” Sandrina said with a slur to her words.

“They’re good with me, I’m good with them, it’s all one big good thing,” Henuva slurred as well.

Dax turned to Dalia.

“How are you feeling?”

“I weigh almost four hundred pounds. The amount of alcohol these two left me was barely enough to use as mouthwash.” Dalia chuckled. “But it seems the great social lubricant did bring an end to the feud.”

“That was a sixty-year-old scotch and you guys just chugged it?” Kane squealed.

“We’ll buy you more, sweetie,” Sandrina replied.

She fell over, giggled and sat back up.

“That was the last bottle. You can’t buy me more,” Kane grumbled.

“Then I’ll make it up to you in other ways,” Sandrina said with a wink and a click of her tongue.

Dax turned toward Kane. He pursed his lips, took a deep breath and shrugged.

“Those terms are acceptable,” he said.

Kane turned and walked toward his room.

“Oh, he means now,” Sandrina said.

She scrambled to her feet, following him while Mark climbed into the pilot’s seat.

“Where’s Jun and PITA?” Dax asked.

“They’re on their chargers,” Dalia replied. “Jun said the planet was draining their power cells.”

The engines roared to life, sending a rumble through the ship.

“Okay, someone’s going to want to hang on to the booze enthusiast. We’re sitting at half power and dropping, so I’m going to have to punch it,” Mark called out.

Dalia reached over and grabbed Henuva by the collar.

“I’m not a booze enthusiast. I just appreciate the way it makes me no longer feel the guilt anymore,” Henuva replied.

“Well, that’s something we’re going to have to address,” Dax said, looking at Mark.

“Yeah, that got a little dark,” the pilot replied.

Artificial gravity pulled on Dax while Mark took off from the landing pad. He drifted out from under the covering, turned toward the sky and launched toward space. Henuva flopped to the side; Dalia shifted to stop him from landing on his face. Inside of a minute, the blue sky was black, dotted by distant stars.

“Attention, missed incoming messages,” the Junkyard announced. “Thirty-seven of them.”

“Who died?” Dax asked.

“Our luck, everybody,” Mark replied. “Junkyard, put through the most urgent.”

An image of Ashley flickered to life on their screens. Sparks flew from behind her.

“Hold the line,” she shouted. “Mark, we’re under siege, we need your help, the Valtakuntera have found…”

The transmission cut off. Dax’s stomach twisted at the terror in her voice. He marched toward Mark, whose hands had already locked in Dal’no’nuuur. He threw the leap drive into full throttle, twisting space into a blue swirl before them.

“My people,” Dalia whispered.

“I’m already on it,” Dax called out.

He turned to the controls and connected with Ruthnar’s personal frequency.

“Everything good?” Ruthnar asked.

“No, the Valtakuntera are attacking Dal’no’nuuur. I’m calling in our payment and any help your brother can provide. If they get their hands on Dal’no tech, kiss our chances at winning a fight with them goodbye!”

31

INBOUND

Dax’s heart pounded in his chest while he put his armor on. Each movement threatened to cause his gear to flip out of his hands and to the ground. He took several deep breaths to steady himself. He looked up to see Jun sitting at her own controls, checking their approach and running scans.

Kane helped strap a shaken Mark into his suit of armor while Henuva retrieved the staff, already in his own gear. A clatter caught Dax’s attention. He turned to see Dalia standing in place, her lower body covered in her suit while parts of its upper half lay on the ground.

Dax rushed over to her. He knelt, picked up her suit and started putting it on her. He looked up at her. Her eyes were bloodshot; old tear stains streaked down her cheeks. Her body trembled like an autumn leaf and each breath was short and shallow.

“Dalia,” Dax said softly.

He clipped her breastplate in place, leaving only her helmet to be donned. Gently taking her face in his hands, he forced her to look him in the eyes.

“Breathe with me,” he said, taking a deep breath. “Focus on me.”

Her glazed eyes sharpened. They locked onto Dax and her pupils constricted with focus. Dax took a long, deep breath, followed by another. Dalia’s continued to be short and shallow but gradually slowed and deepened. After nearly two minutes, their breaths were in sync, bringing some of the fervent green luster back to her face.

“I know you’re scared,” Dax said softly. “But your people are warriors. They survived for hundreds of years against a bioweapon specifically designed to kill them. And they did it with axes, hammers and swords.”

He moved her braid, tucking it into her suit so it wouldn’t catch in her helmet. Holding her gaze brought a sense of calm to him as well while he pushed forward.

“You now have the most advanced technology in the universe, and progressed close to ten thousand years in less than a decade,” he continued. “The only thing the Valtakuntera will accomplish by this is losing more ships and strength. When we get there, we’re going to help kick them off your planet and run them down until there’s nothing left.”

“You promise?” she asked, her voice barely over a whisper.

“I promise,” Dax replied.

The shock vanished from her face, quickly replaced by her innate warrior spirit. She gently grabbed Dax’s hands and removed them from her face before her helmet snapped shut around her head.

“Jun, how close are we?” Mark asked.

“Five minutes,” the android replied.

“Have you been able to get through to my mom?”

“Not over mic or video, but we are communicating through Morse Code,” Jun replied. “She’s still alive, as is Josh. She’s coordinating the defense in space and Josh is on the ground with the Dal’no, defending the city.”

“How are the defenses holding?” Dalia asked.

“Holding, but won’t last much longer,” Jun replied.

“Kane, what’s the plan?” Dax asked.

“The Junkyard’s guns can punch through the hull of a Valtakuntera ship. It’s too valuable not to be in the space fight,” Kane explained. “Jun, can you fly this thing?”

“You mean myself?” she asked, motioning toward the ship. “In this form, I am capable of self-autopilot in a combat scenario to ninety-seven percent efficiency of Mark’s established baseline.”

“Good, because, Mark, we’re going to need you on the ground. We’ll drop you at one of those data points. You hack into it, take control of all the robotic terraformers and stampede them to the Dal’no capital. Pull a Marine and attack by air and land.”

“No sea?” Mark jested in an attempt to calm himself.

“There isn’t one to use,” Kane replied.

Mark swallowed hard. He nodded in agreement before activating his helmet and taking the staff from Henuva.

“Henuva, you and Sandrina are going to get to the city. She’ll help with the wounded and you’ll coordinate with Nalath for their defense, since you know Valtakuntera protocol.”

“Copy that,” Henuva replied. “I’ll see if we can use the remote network my people coordinate with to cause a little disarray.”

“You think you can crack that encryption?” Jun asked.

“They use the same code for everything; it’ll be pretty easy,” Henuva replied.

“What about us?” Dalia asked.

“This is Tylira’s revenge for fighting her off on the Ryshy ship. You two are going to hunt her down and take her out.”

Kane walked over to Dax. He removed his helmet ring and installed it onto Dax’s suit.

“Whoa, what are you doing?” Dax asked. “You need this more than I do.”

“I’m going to be covering you from a distance. The last thing a sniper needs is something shiny on his head,” Kane countered. “You’re going to be in the thick of it. You’ll need it more than I will.”

“We’re arriving and dropping out of leap space,” Jun announced.

Everyone turned toward the viewport. Tension thickened while an invisible weight pressed down in the ship. Dax swallowed hard. Dalia grabbed his hand, giving it a firm squeeze. He returned the affection.

With a pull on the jump drive, the blue swirl of light before them vanished, giving way to a horrifying image of Dal’no’nuuur with ten Valtakuntera cruisers around it. A sense of hopelessness settled among the crew.

“How are we going to beat that?” Henuva asked.

“Mom,” Mark whispered with a sense of hopelessness.

Dax looked over the massive ships. Two faced away from the planet. The third sported a familiar hole in its side. The bottom of the ship faced three other cruisers that closed in on the damaged vessel.

“Unbelievable,” Dax whispered, hope igniting inside him at the familiar tactic. He released Dalia’s hand and stepped forward. He pointed at the oddly positioned vessels.

“Those aren’t with the Valtakuntera,” Dax said.

“How do you know?” Henuva asked.

“Mark, is your mom a Star Wars fan?” Dax asked.

“She enjoys watching it, yes. What does that have to do with the situation at hand?”

“Bombers are going to be flying out of that damaged ship, the one she lined up to get hit by the Operation Plumbbob manhole cover any second…”

Before he could finish, a swarm of fighters erupted out of the sides of the cruiser, rushed the advancing Valtakuntera vessels and conducted a bombing run on them, bypassing their heavy cannons due to proximity.

Detonations rippled across the ships, causing their lights to flicker before all three attempted to break off their attack. A second bombing run was released from the damaged ship, completely disabling the attackers.

“That is the exact move Ahsoka Tano used in the clone wars. Your mom is on one of those two ships,” Dax announced, sending a wave of hope through the crew. “All she has to do is hold off long enough for backup to arrive, and we’ll have them surrounded.”

Hundreds of fighters swarmed from the other Valtakuntera ships to attack the bombers. Before they could intercept the allied ships, a handful of fighters rushed out of Ashley’s vessels, supported by what looked like Dal’no craft. They clashed, devolving into a space dogfight while Ashley’s cruisers laid down covering fire against the other large ships.

“Your mom knows we’re here,” Jun announced. “She told us to get to the surface. They haven’t been able to stop smaller landing craft. It’s taken everything to keep the cruisers in space.”

“She’s still alive?” Mark asked.

“And judging by her language, angry,” Jun replied.

“Everybody to the cargo bay,” Kane ordered. “Jun, do you know where the closest terraforming data node is to the capital?”

“I do have it in my record banks,” she replied.

“Good, go by there first. No landing, just drop and go.”

“Affirmative,” Jun replied.

Dax was the first one down. The ship shook violently as it passed through debris fields, avoiding weapons fire as much as possible. Flashes of purple filled the cargo bay, causing Dax to draw his pistol and aim it into the room while descending.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” PITA asked.

“We’re going hard head-to-head against the Valtakuntera. Who cares if it’s a good idea, so long as it works,” Sandrina replied.

Dax lowered his weapon. Reaching the floor, he turned to see Sandrina with a Valtukta rifle, shooting a strange war hammer large enough for Dalia to wield. With each shot the plasma was pulled into it the same way Xero absorbed Henuva’s attack.

“You didn’t,” he whispered, his mouth going dry.

Sandrina stopped shooting. She rested the gun on her shoulder before flashing him a nervous smile.

“I was hoping to bring it up to you before we left, but yeah, I did,” she said.

“What’d she do?” Kane asked.

He reached the bottom of the ladder. Turning, he froze next to Dax.

“Where’d you find that hammer?” he asked.

“Where do you think?” Dax chimed in.

Mark, Dalia and Henuva reached the bottom as well. Henuva let out a chuckle.

“It’s a good thing we’re likely not going to survive this.” The ship rocked violently, interrupting him. “Because we can’t beat Xero.”

“That weapon’s too big for you,” Dalia pointed out. “You’re a physician, not a warrior.”

Sandrina grabbed the hammer. She heaved it onto a shoulder, her armor whirring to support the weight. Walking over to Dalia, she set it down, handle tip against the floor. Its maul stood the same height as Dax’s head and three times the size. The weapon let out a low hum, flickering with purple energy as Dalia took the weapon, lifting it with one hand.

“How do you know this won’t kill me?” Dalia asked.

“Jun said it stores energy, it doesn’t drain it, and I already gave it a swing or two,” Sandrina replied.

Before anyone could reply, the ship’s radio crackled to life. Static mixed with gunfire drowned out the voice on the other end.

“Working on cleaning it up now,” Jun shouted.

The ship rattled violently once again. Dalia holstered her new hammer on her back. She went and grabbed her Fat Mac and sound cannon, slinging the human weapon over her shoulder as well. Mark grabbed his M4 and a high-powered sniper rifle.

“Junkyard, is that you?” Malcoth’s voice sounded through the speakers.

The ship dropped, hitting a surge of turbulence after punching through the upper atmosphere.

“It’s us,” Dax replied.

He picked up a bandolier of ten-gauge shotgun shells and the sawed-off, double-barreled steel and wooden piece of art it came with. He slung the shotgun over his back while grabbing one of Kane’s many rifles.

Under the rifle sat ridged ovals with pins at the top. He reached in and grabbed one.

“Is this…” he started.

“Yes,” Kane replied.

“How’d you even…”

“Homemade. Although I wouldn’t suggest being anywhere near it when it goes off.”

“I figured that, it’s a grenade.”

Dax grabbed two more before clipping them to his belt.

“How are things looking down there?” Dalia asked.

“Not great,” he replied. “But a lot better now that you’re here. Please tell me you’ve got a plan.”

“We do,” Mark said, grabbing the last remaining hover bike. “It’s crazy and convoluted, but it just might work.”

“I’d expect nothing less from you,” Malcoth replied. “How long until drop?”

“Two minutes before we’re at survivable altitude,” Jun said over the radio.

Sandrina handed the Valtukta rifle to Henuva while grabbing two sub-machine guns and the ammo belts next to them.

“Are we nearing any mountains?” Mark asked.

“We’ve got one directly below us,” Jun replied. “Why?”

Mark struck the ramp controls, causing it to open, filling the cargo bay with a gust of smoke-filled wind. His helmet snapped shut around his head.

“Because it’s my turn to do something reckless. Save the two minutes and get the rest to the front lines. I’ll meet you when I can.”

Mark revved the engine, whipped the back of the bike around and rode, full speed out of the back of the ship while screaming, “Leeroy Jenkins!”

32

ASSAULT

The Junkyard whipped around, revealing the Dal’no city. Gargantuan trees that once surrounded it were uprooted, falling in every direction away from its original buildings. The orb that protected them was closed once again with only its small door open.

Dal’no rushed toward it; screams of terror filled the smoke tainted air while the Star Tribe’s warriors fought off encroaching Valtukta. Dax’s horror shifted to rage. He gripped the oversized rifle before looking at Sandrina and Henuva.

“We’ll cover you,” he snarled. “You two just get inside the city.”

Sandrina turned toward Kane. She grabbed the collar of his suit and pulled him in for a deep kiss.

“Have fun,” she said, giving his cheek a pat.

“I will,” he replied. “Be safe.”

Her helmet closed around her head while she stepped toward the ramp’s edge.

“I will,” she replied.

She jumped out of the ship and onto a nearby branch as they descended. She dropped, zigzagging toward the ground faster than the ship. Henuva looked over the edge. He quickly leaned back while two plasma rounds zipped past him, scorching the ceiling above.

“Not cool guys,” Henuva snarled.

He leaned out, firing a few rounds before jumping. Dax poked his head over to see him drop nearly fifty feet before landing and quickly overwhelming a squad of invaders shooting at an injured and retreating Nalath.

“Chief!” Dax screamed over the roar of the engines.

Nalath looked up, past the shield his escort was carrying. Deep burns covered half his face, and his robes were scorched.

“It’s good to see an OGRE,” he shouted back.

Sandrina lunged from the trees, knocking two of the Valtukta down. She pulled her submachine guns, thrust them into the weak points in their throats and fired. Henuva covered her while what remained of Nalath’s guard fell back and closed in around him.

“They’ll help with medicine and hacking. Where do you need us?”

“They landed four dropships in the quarry. Malcoth is trying to hold them off.”

More purple rounds ripped from the forest’s edge. A handful of invaders appeared, drawing Henuva and Sandrina’s fire while they retreated to the city. Dax summoned his helmet before connecting to the team radio.

“Once inside, lock up the city,” Dax ordered.

“What about the Dal’no outside of the walls?” Sandrina asked.

Jun pulled up and started flying toward the quarry. Dax looked around at the burning forest and thick, billowing smoke catching in the canopy. He noticed Dalia’s grip tighten around her hammer.

“The only ones outside of the city are the warriors,” she replied. “To die for your people is to die with honor. Seal the city. Protect the civilians.”

Dax turned toward Kane. His eyes narrowed. They darted from left to right, inspecting the trees they passed.

“Remember, the Valtakuntera armor is still magnetic as long as it’s not Death Squad. If you have to jump from a height, you could probably crush some with the magnets in your boots,” Kane said.

He slung his rifle over his back and drew a knife.

“I’ll watch your six and keep an eye out for Tylira. Keep your coms open.”

Kane dashed toward the back of the ship. He leapt as they passed over a wide tree branch. The soldier dug his knife into its bark, grabbed it with his free hand and whipped himself on top of the torso-wide growth. He pulled the knife out, sheathed it and reached for his gun before disappearing behind more smoke.

“Jun, you’re going to want to pull up, there’s…”

“I see it,” the android replied.

The Junkyard tilted upward. Dax dropped to his knee, the magnets in his boots activating while he grabbed a sliding PITA before he could out. With a whistle, they flew over a cable tied to two trees.

“We’ve got incoming fighters,” Sandrina called out. “We’re over the quarry. I’d suggest you evacuate now so I’m not a sitting duck.”

“Throw me,” PITA said.

His eyes turned red, making an angry expression.

“What?” Dax asked.

“I’m not a dwarf, you’re not an elf, throw me!”

“I’m not…”

“The stork never gave you to your mom. You were a blue light special at K-Mart. That’s why your parents never had expectations to be proud of you.”

With a flick of his wrist, PITA soared out of the Junkyard. A maniacal laugh left the cyber dog’s speakers as he vanished past the ramp.

“For my people,” Dalia said.

She gave her hammer a spin before lumbering toward the opening and leaping out, hands and arms spread.

“Jun, you’re clear,” Dax said.

He lunged forward. The ship pulled away behind him while its cargo bay door started to close. He watched it fly off before turning his body straight up. Six Valtukta fighters zoomed into formation behind the Junkyard, opening fire on it.

“I don’t get destroyed this time,” Jun said.

Magnetic mines dropped out of the back of the ship. They clanged into the hulls of her pursuers before detonating, blowing all six out of the sky.

Dax spun in the air. His stomach lurched into his throat while in freefall. Dalia’s wolf bear pelt whipped in the wind behind her as she fell with her arms and legs outstretched.

Three small parachutes deployed from PITA’s back. Flashes of light erupted from underneath. Ordnance rained down on the Valtukta and their four dropships inside the quarry.

“Taste my nipple guns!” PITA shouted while playing “Fortunate Son” over his speakers. “Get some, GET SOME!”

The robot dog’s noise drew the attention of most of the invaders. Guns immediately were pointed toward them. Dax and Dalia zipped past PITA. Extending his left hand, the professor opened his palm. Plasma rounds sizzled through the air at them, deflecting or diffusing against his magnetic shield.

A small contingent of Dal’no stood at the quarry’s exit, holding off the push to escape. Their guns lay spent on the ground. Malcoth led the fight using his old melee weapon. A mix of the weight of their weapons, strength of the wielders and bug-forged steel sliced and crushed through Valtakuntera armor like it was nothing.

Flashes of purple light caught Dax’s eye as Dalia grabbed her hammer with both hands. Plasma danced from it as she raised it over her head. With a twist of her hips, she zipped away from Dax, passing him while drifting toward another landing ship.

“Rip and tear until it’s done!” she screamed.

With a swing of her hammer, a blinding flash of light erupted from the weapon. It impacted the landing craft’s hull, melting a hole straight through it while buckling the rest of the ship.

Not believing his eyes, Dax deactivated his hand. He leaned back before turning the repulsing field on in his boots. He slowed on the spine of another landing craft. Pulling a grenade off his belt, he tugged on the pin and tossed it into one of the upward-facing engines.

Raising his rifle, he opened fire on the Valtukta shooting at him. The landing ship bucked violently under him. Shrapnel whistled past him while a purple explosion ripped the engine apart.

Dax kept his composure while the Valtukta looked toward the explosion. He fired at their necks, damaging their armor while PITA’s reign of terror finished them off. Reaching the back of the dropship, he jumped to the ground. Dalia’s hammer hummed as she swung it, nearly decapitating two enemies with one attack.

“What was that?” she asked.

“I may or may not have taken the unstable Valtakuntera heat sinks and retrofitted my display grenades with them,” Kane replied.

A whistle, followed by a crack, sent the head of another Valtukta snapping back with a spurt of silver.

“Careful, you’ve got eight coming out of the dropship at your nine,” Kane warned.

“I got it,” PITA shouted.

He disconnected his parachutes. His mouth flipped around, turning into what looked like a bear trap. It snapped shut loud enough to pierce through the gunfire.

“Puppy’s hungry!” the cyber dog snarled.

He leaped from dropship to dropship, vanishing over the edge. Screams and rifle fire sounded from the other side, accompanied by multiple flashes of light.

“You don’t want to see that,” Kane whimpered. “That’s not right… on your three!”

Dax turned to see a round flying toward Dalia. Before he could tackle her out of the way, she held her hammer up. The round splashed against the Boronian metal before being pulled into it. It sparked with purple as she blocked a second one.

“I’ll take these ones and disable the other ships,” she said, gripping her hammer tightly. “You take some pressure off of Malcoth.”

Like a wrecking ball of rage, Dalia rushed into the reinforcements. She used her momentum to end half of them with a single swing while driving her shoulder into another. Dax turned his attention back toward the melee.

Malcoth stood alone, a sword in each hand, chipped and soaked in Valtukta blood. His men were piled behind him, injured and dead. A snarl spread across the Dal’no’s lips through his burned open helmet.

“To get to my men, you’ll have to go through me,” he snarled.

“So be it,” one of the Valtukta replied. “Kill him.”

They raised their rifles. Dax charged toward Malcoth. He slung his rifle over his shoulder, drew his ten-gauge shotgun and extended his left hand. Curling his fingers back, he felt a pull through his suit. A warning that there was too much weight to pull flashed on his HUD.

“Not trying to pull them,” Dax growled.

Leaping forward, he yanked his arm back. The Valtukta staggered while his magnetic field catapulted him toward them. Dax raised a knee as one turned to investigate.

In a shower of sparks and a pained grunt, Dax’s knee was driven into the Valtukta’s chest. As they fell to the ground, he took a deep breath, clearing his mind and letting the adrenaline burn as it surged through his veins.

Dax’s body moved on its own, as if instinct was in the driver’s seat. He pointed both barrels at a standing Valtukta. He squeezed the trigger; its kick was powerful enough to pull his arm up, even with the suit.

With his free hand, he grabbed two more shells. Spinning on his knee, he flicked the eject lever with his thumb. A hollow thunk rang out while two smoking casings flew through the air.

Dax reloaded while pulling his dagger. With another spin, he shot a second Valtukta in the face while getting to his feet. Flinging his dagger, he propelled it with his glove. It pierced the throat of a third.

With another push, he destabilized the remaining Valtukta. Malcoth lunged at the off-balance attackers. He swung both swords from different directions, decapitating them.

Dax turned his hand to his knife and pulled it back. He sheathed the blade before reloading the ten gauge, sliding it in place and grabbing the man he gave a flying knee to. With a yank, he ripped the Valtukta to his feet. He reached under the invader’s armpit and flicked, ejecting him from his armor and to the ground.

“Where’s Tylira,” Dax ordered.

His adrenaline caused his question to come out as a scream. Throwing the armor away, he marched toward the Valtukta. Gunfire and screaming from the landing platform started to die down. PITA, coated in silver and with a piece of twisted metal in his jaws, trotted into view with his head held high.

Dax noticed the terror take over the prisoner’s face at the sight of the dog.

“PITA, come!” Dax ordered.

33

INFO

“She’s waiting for you,” the Valtukta whimpered.

His eyes clenched tightly shut while his head was turned away from Dax. PITA stood next to him, mouth wide open and pilot light flickering. Dalia stood next to the robot, her hammer on the ground while holding her Fat Mac to her shoulder, scanning for enemies. Malcoth stood next to her, her sound cannon against his shoulder, watching the other direction.

“Where?” Dax asked.

He leaned forward, the OGRE skull overtaking his helmet.

“There’s a bounty hunter ship crashed to the west,” he replied through terrified sobs.

“Kane, you hear that?” Dalia asked.

“Con’s ship,” Kane said.

“Couldn’t kill us with him. Seems appropriate she chose that place to end us,” Dax added. “It’s likely booby-trapped.”

“You’re probably right. I’ll grab a ship and scout it out and reach back when I find something,” Henuva said.

“That’s hundreds of miles away, yeah, but you didn’t take out all of the dropships,” Kane countered from his perch. “And I know their password. I’ll bail out before I get close enough for her to shoot me down, try and let it crash into her in the process and stay out of sight until you clean up here.”

Kane jumped most of the way down the tree before grabbing the trunk and sliding the rest of the way down, leaving boot and finger gouges in its bark. On the ground, he jogged toward them while keeping an alert eye on their surroundings.

“What’s the purpose of this whole mission?” Dax asked, looking at their prisoner.

The Valtukta remained silent. PITA’s pilot light flared with a quick burst of fuel.

“Okay, okay,” the soldier cried, turning away from the corgi before motioning at Dax. “All of this is to capture and kill you. You scarred her in a way she’s not healing from and nearly killed her. Every Valtukta here is expendable. She doesn’t even care if she dies, so long as you do.”

“This is a lot of resources to waste to kill one person,” Dalia replied.

She motioned to the sky. The massive ships continued their battle in space.

“She’s the empress’ right hand. The empress wants you dead as much as Tylira does. At this point, they don’t care how many lives are wasted as long as they’re successful.”

Dax turned toward Kane, whose expression darkened. He ran his fingers over his mustache before taking a deep breath.

“Suicide mission. Means she’s more dangerous than ever,” he muttered.

“Then you don’t go alone,” Dax countered.

“I’ve faced these kinds of people before. I know how they work. Valtukta or human, the approach is the same,” Kane explained. “I’ll observe and report only. When you guys show up, that’s when we’ll act.”

“Not alone you’re not,” Malcoth said, glancing at Kane. “These people laid siege to my home. If anyone deserves to avenge those who’ve fallen, it’s me.”

“Your armor’s in no state to stand against someone like her,” Dalia countered.

“I’m not planning on standing alone,” Malcoth countered. “Forget pride, forget honor. This is a fight to the death. I wait, we attack together. No one-on-one this round.”

“She’s likely going to have Death Squad with her.”

Malcoth looked from Dalia to Dax. He flashed his tusks at the professor.

“How well do you think you’ll clean up here?” Malcoth asked.

“They won’t have any place to run when we’re done,” Dax replied.

“That’s what I expected,” Malcoth said.

He turned and aimed Dalia’s borrowed gun at the prisoner. He let out a shriek of terror, scrambling backward. Dax grabbed the barrel and pushed it toward the ground.

“He’s beaten. We’re not murderers.”

“He killed my men,” Malcoth countered. “It’s not murder, it’s justice.”

“There is no justice in this,” Dax argued, glancing at the unarmored man. “If you want justice, go help Kane scout the woman responsible. She dies, you get your justice.”

“Listen to him,” Dalia added.

With a defiant snarl, Malcoth lowered his weapon.

“Fine, but he kills any more of my men, it’s on your head.”

“I’ll accept that responsibility,” Dax replied.

Kane turned toward the quarry. Smoke and flames from two of the landing ships billowed into the air.

“Come with me,” Kane ordered.

Malcoth turned toward Dalia.

“Do you mind?” he asked, holding up her gun.

“Go, don’t forget your weapons.”

He slung the rifle over his back, jogged over to his chipped weapons and picked them up. Lifting a partially broken blade, he offered it to Kane.

“Wing Cutter, maybe you can become Head Slicer,” Malcoth offered.

“Here’s hoping,” Kane replied, grabbing the massive weapon. “We’ll let you know what we find.”

Both men sprinted toward the quarry once more.

“They don’t have the code,” the Valtukta whispered in a trembling voice.

Dax looked back at their prisoner, a hint of anger flickering to life.

“Excuse me?” Dax asked.

“They changed the code after our last failure. If they put in the wrong one, the entire ship will blow up.”

“Okay, what’s the code then?” Dalia asked, pointing her gun at him.

“It’s Zulozare1,” the Valtukta replied.

“That’s it? You just added a one?” Dax asked in disbelief.

“Mark’s going to have a field day with that,” Dalia chuckled.

“Kane, did you hear that?”

“No,” Kane replied over the radio. “What is it?”

“The access codes have been changed. They’re Zulozare1 now.”

“Seriously?” Kane chuckled. “Mark’s going to have something snarky to say about their cyber security.”

PITA’s pilot light extinguished.

“You know what happens if you’re lying?” the robotic dog asked.

PITA’s mouth opened back up, letting out a burst of flame.

“I’m not lying,” he whimpered. “I promise I’m not lying.”

Dax held his breath, watching the top of the quarry tentatively. The sounds of engines roaring, not accompanied by an explosion, led to a relieved exhale.

“Looks like he was telling the truth,” Kane replied.

The ground rumbled while they took off, turned east and disappeared behind the trees.

“And for the record, Mark needs to program some mental stability in that dog. Malcoth’s throwing up in the back after seeing what happened to those reinforcements,” Kane explained.

Dax turned toward PITA. The robot dog gave what looked like a shrug.

“I’m efficient,” he said.

“You’re sick,” Dalia replied.

The Valtukta climbed to his knees. He put his hands on the ground and offered his neck to them.

“Are… are you going to kill me now?” the prisoner asked.

“Like I said, we’re not murderers. If we see you again…”

PITA’s jaws snapped open and closed multiple times. The prisoner looked up at them in disbelief. Tears welled in his eyes while he nodded.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “I promise, you won’t regret this.”

“And Tylira?” Dax asked.

“You spared my life. She would’ve killed me for not dying in a fight against you. As your people would say, screw her.”

Dax’s HUD registered the Valtukta’s vitals. They read normal, indicating honesty. At a nod of his head and motion of his gun, the Valtukta scrambled to his feet. He turned and sprinted away from the fighting, disappearing into the forest. Dalia placed a hand on Dax’s shoulder.

“Do you think that was a good idea?” she asked, picking up her hammer. “He could’ve been lying.”

“He would’ve been a good liar,” Dax replied. “And you’re right, that is a risk, but we can’t babysit him and deal with that.”

Dax motioned up the heavily bombed road leading toward the Dal’no city. Gunfire continued to ring out, along with distant explosions.

“The one downside of setting up a forest around the city. No defenses without burning everything down,” Dalia muttered.

“The forest is already burning. I say light ‘em up!” PITA barked.

“I hate to say it, but I agree with the sociopath,” Dax added.

He jogged toward the tree line, starting up the hill. Dalia followed with PITA rushing past them.

“I’ll scout,” the dog replied.

“Try not to use the flame thrower. I’d like to save some of this growth,” Dalia called back.

“No promises,” PITA replied.

Moving up the hill, Dax’s eyes darted around the overgrowth before them. His HUD registering locations of gunfire along with several most proficient paths were highlighted along the ground.

“Dax, you’re not going to believe this,” Henuva’s voice crackled over the radio.

“They changed the password?” Dax asked.

“Yes, it’s absurd…” Henuva started.

“They just added a one to the end?” Dalia interrupted.

“How’d you guys know that?” Henuva asked.

“We found a source,” Dalia replied. “And there’s something else.”

“Tylira’s at Con’s crash?” Henuva asked.

“Yeah… how’d you guys… You didn’t torture someone else for the information, did you?” Henuva asked.

“No, you’re my one and only,” Dax teased.

“Aw, that’s not really the comfort you think it is,” Henuva replied.

“Kane’s on his way with Malcoth to scout. They’re going to hold off on making a move until we can provide support,” Dalia added.

“Hopefully, that’ll work, but things are about to get bad,” Henuva replied.

“How so?” Dax asked.

They rushed up to a fallen tree. Peering over its trunk, Dax saw a group of Valtukta stood with their backs to the city. Two others packed explosives against the closed barrier.

“Never mind, I see the bombs,” Dax added.

“No, we’ve got scorch droppers on their way,” Henuva replied.

“What are those?” Dalia asked.

“Suicide attackers; they get into small escape pods, and as Mark would say, yeet themselves at a combat situation,” Henuva replied.

“Then activate the city’s defenses. Have them shoot up,” Dalia replied. “Take them out before they land.”

“We’re trying, but they’re jamming the defenses,” Henuva replied.

“Fine, we’ll just have to greet them with some explosives,” Dax replied. “Send me their estimated landing locations.”

“Working on it,” Henuva replied.

“Dalia, you want to do that ‘vanish into the undergrowth thing’ and attack from their left?” Dax asked.

She nodded. Without a word, she rushed deeper into the forest to position herself on the far side. Dax reloaded his shotgun, holstered it and pulled out his Bastet pistol.

“PITA, I’m going to need you to provide them a distraction when Dalia’s in position.”

“I was born to be distracting,” PITA replied.

Dax raised his pistol. He took aim at the Valtukta holding the detonator. Ash started to rain from the burning canopy overhead. His heart raced. Deep breathing kept his hands steady with the bead overlaid on an ordinary Valtakuntera helmet.

“Mark, how are things looking on your end?” Dax whispered.

“A little hairy,” Mark replied.

Plasma fire rang out in the background accompanied by roaring and screams.

“But I think I’ve got a handle on it. I may just be a little later. Henuva told me they changed their password and just added a one at the end. Can you believe that?” Mark asked with a chuckle. “That’s so irresponsible.”

“Do they seem responsible to you?” Dalia asked.

“No, but I’ll be on my way shortly,” Mark replied.

Mark fell silent. Dalia cleared her throat.

“I’m in position,” she whispered.

“Copy that. PITA, you’re up,” Dax ordered.

“Ladies and gentlemen, get your Oscars ready for this performance,” PITA replied.

The robotic dog trotted out of the forest with a stick in his mouth. His nub wagged while he let out a playful bark. The Valtukta turned their guns toward him, making Dax’s finger slip to the trigger. PITA stopped where he stood. He leaned forward and dropped the stick.

“If you gentlemen don’t mind, I’m here to play fetch. Would one of you mind throwing my stick?” PITA asked.

None of the Valtukta moved. PITA rolled onto his back.

“Anyone want to rub my belly?” he asked.

Again, no movement.

“No one?”

The dog sighed, rolled back over and hung his head

“Fine.”

An ear rocketed off PITA while his tail started to spin. The ear punched through the visor of the man holding the detonator before exploding.

“I’ll just make you a chew toy then!” PITA snarled, blaring heavy metal from his speakers.

34

FLANK

The Valtukta opened fire on PITA. His magnetic shield compromised their shots’ containment fields, sending the plasma harmlessly in every direction. Another soldier dove for the detonator. PITA’s second ear took him out.

“RIP AND TEAR UNTIL IT’S DONE!” PITA roared.

He lunged at one of the Valtukta. The magnetic field forced him off balance. PITA’s trap jaws snapped shut around the helmet, violently compressing the metal.

“Have you been showing PITA Doom?” Dax asked.

He fired at the explosive’s expert, killing him before he could plant more of their breaching charges.

“And if I said no?” Dalia asked.

A fireball accompanied by a tree-shaking explosion gave her position away before ripping another soldier in half.

“I’d say I wouldn’t believe you because ‘rip and tear until it’s done’ is from the antique remake from 2016,” Dax countered.

He hurdled the tree trunk, firing at the remaining invaders. Chaos erupted. Some shot at PITA, others fired at Dalia and only one managed to get a shot off toward Dax. At the warning flash, Dax moved his head to the side, dodging the attack.

Dalia took one more shot, Dax took two and PITA bit onto a leg and belched flame into it until the Valtukta stopped screaming. Holstering his pistol, Dax jogged up to the explosives. His HUD did not show vital signs from the pile below them.

“PITA, watch our six,” Dalia ordered.

She beat Dax to the bricks, dropped her hammer, slung the rifle over her back and grabbed an armful. Dax joined, picking up the cinderblock-sized pieces of volatile material.

“Scorch droppers inbound,” Henuva called out. “They’ve entered the atmosphere. I’m sending their projected landing site to your HUDs right now.”

Soft beeps sounded through Dax’s helmet. Red boxes, accompanied by thousands of soft beeps, filled his helmet. His stomach dropped, seeing the veritable army incoming. A series of rumbling explosions tore across the forest, knocking branches off their trunks.

Dax looked up to see the damaged Valtakuntera cruiser explode into pieces while a second charged into it, breaking apart in the process. He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat fighting to stay in place.

“Henuva,” Dax whispered in disbelief. “Does this city have shielding?”

“Let me check, one second,” Henuva replied.

Dax tossed one of the bricks as far as he could. It landed between several trees, rolling to a stop on one of the highlighted boxes.

“Maybe the force of landing mixed with the heat of re-entry will detonate the bricks,” Dax said.

Dalia nodded; she started throwing them into the forest. Each brick landed at least fifteen yards away from the next.

“What kind of explosive do you think this is?” Dalia asked.

“If we’re lucky, it’s like C4,” Dax replied.

He continued to grab even more bricks, throwing them as fast as he could until there were none left. Henuva returned.

“There’s an array for one, but not a generator. What’s going on?”

Dax looked back up. What he could see of the sky was filled with smoke trails of inbound scorch droppers. The two damaged cruisers started to fall toward the planet as well.

“We’ve got two destroyed Valtakuntera cruisers about to re-enter the atmosphere.”

“How long do we have until impact?” Dalia asked.

“It takes twenty to ninety seconds for a ship to hit the surface once they make contact with the upper atmosphere,” Dax stated.

A whistle, followed by a thud, rang through the forest. The ground shook while a red box turned yellow. Dax raised his pistol. A second landed, followed by a third. They continued to make planetfall, kicking up dirt, throwing rocks and splitting trees in half.

Dax, Dalia and PITA rushed toward the city’s sealed door. The robot dog pawed at it and let out a whimper.

“So long as that debris doesn’t start glowing, we still have time,” Dax added, pulling a grenade from his belt.

“I can be a generator,” PITA offered. “My magnetic shield should be enough to repel any falling debris for a couple of seconds.”

“Henuva, will it work?” Dax asked.

“I don’t know,” the Valtukta replied.

More escape pods slammed down, crushing the explosive bricks but not detonating any of them. A sinking feeling settled into Dax’s chest. With a hiss, the door opened just enough for PITA to squeeze through. He glanced over to see Josh, soot-covered but alive.

“It should work,” the scientist replied. “It’ll likely fry his power circuits, though.”

“You can build me new ones. If I’m going to be decommissioned, it’s not going to be because of a bunch of Tolkien’s rejects,” PITA replied.

He squeezed through the door.

“Do you have a gun?” Dax asked.

“Out of ammo,” Josh replied.

Dax holstered his pistol, pulled the rifle off his back and offered it to his friend.

“Aim for the throat,” Dax ordered.

“You’re not coming?” Josh asked, taking the gun.

“I’d love to catch up, but we’ve got business to handle on this side of the city,” Dax replied. “Now get back in there; it’s about to get dicey out here.”

Dax pulled the pin from his grenade. Josh’s eyes widened. He took a step back, allowing the city to re-seal itself.

“Well, it looks like your theory wasn’t quite on point,” Dalia said.

Doors started to open from the escape pods. Hundreds of more Valtukta stepped out. Dax let out a nervous chuckle.

“It’s already been established not all of my theories are correct.” He raised the grenade. “That’s what this is for.”

“I don’t think that’ll work against all of them,” Dalia said.

She nodded at the now moving woods. When he released the spoon, the grenade clicked. He threw the explosive at one of the only bricks that hadn’t been landed on. He took a half step back, causing Dalia to hesitate.

BOOM!

The grenade detonated. It activated the brick it was next to, leading to a second, larger explosion. Its fireball caused Dalia to lift her hand and shield her face. Dax’s helmet darkened to compensate. The shockwave kicked up dirt and ash, crashing into them both.

Dalia’s cloak flapped from the force while Dax slid back a few inches. Like watching a fuse, the scattered remains of their crushed, stolen explosives activated, sending a growing wall of fire and shockwaves across the forest. Dax clenched his jaw. Unable to fight the wide smile, he drew his pistol and knife.

“It’s like the fourth of freaking July,” he said, chuckling.

Escape pods were ripped to shreds. Advancing soldiers vanished in the light. Trees as thick as houses had their trunks blown into a million pieces, sending them tumbling toward the ground. They landed away from the city, crushing even more of the obscured, advancing soldiers.

“I retract my previous statement,” Dalia replied while reloading.

“I didn’t expect that to actually work,” Dax said, a cackle bubbling up through his words. “Holy crap.”

A plasma round ripped through the smoke and flames. One bolt struck Dax in the chest. A heat-building warning appeared for part of his armor. The spot Xero repaired remained cold. His suit’s charge rose from eighty-one to eighty-four percent.

Dalia took a hit to the shoulder. She staggered backward. Quickly sheathing his knife, Dax stepped in front of her, raised his left hand and initiated a sustained repulse with his gauntlet.

Thousands of rounds flew at them. Some hit the dirt, others impacted harmlessly off the city wall, while most splashed against Dax’s barrier. His armor’s power started to fall again.

“This isn’t sustainable; we should’ve gone inside,” Dalia shouted over sizzling ammo.

She took aim, fired and reloaded. Raising his pistol, he fired through his own shield as well. Most of his shots found a target. Some sailed harmlessly into the smoke.

“We don’t have to hold it for long,” Dax replied. “Mark, where are you?”

Silence fell over the radio.

“Mark?”

Still nothing. He looked at his vambrace. The holographic image of their battlefield wasn’t projected with the magnet active.

“Dalia, is your hammer charged?” Dax asked.

“With a few shots,” Dalia said, between firing her gun and reloading. “Why?”

His armor’s charge dropped to sixty-eight percent. He holstered his pistol and extended his hand behind him.

“I need to try something. Hand it over.”

She stopped firing and gave him the weapon. Taking the head, he pushed it into the repaired portion of his breastplate. Concentrated flickers of purple light jumped between the weapon and his armor. After a few seconds, the purple flashes died down and his suit was up to almost eighty percent.

“What I wouldn’t give for a full Boronian kit,” he mused.

A dozen Valtukta broke through the wall of smoke to their left. Their shots passed behind the field Dax held up. He spun, keeping the repulsion up and facing the larger force. He held up Dalia’s hammer, blocking what he could. A few shots got through, striking his armor. Heat increase warnings flashed across his HUD.

Dalia turned her rifle to those who flanked them. As she took aim, a plasma round struck her shoulder just as she fired. Her bullet grazed a Valtukta’s arm, shattering the armor and the bone below. She started to reload while two more shots struck them both. The hammer started to spark; a purple aura glowed off it accompanied by a low hum.

“Armor’s starting to compromise,” Dalia called out.

“Mine too,” Dax replied.

“Throw the hammer after my next shot and move. If we stay here, we’re dead.”

“I was thinking the same thing. Use the fallen trees behind them as cover,” Dax added.

Dalia chambered a round. Nodding, she shouldered her rifle.

“Now,” she ordered.

Firing, she took out one of the furthest right Valtukta, causing them to huddle together. Dax dropped the shield. He spun once more, throwing the hammer before giving it a magnetic shove.

It hummed while it flew through the air. Striking in the middle of them, a ball of stored energy engulfed their attackers. He curled his fingers back, pulling the weapon back to his hand while what was left of the smoldering Valtukta fell to the ground.

“Call me Thor, god of hammers!”

Dalia grabbed the hammer from his hand while slinging her rifle over her back. A few more blasts struck them. Some recharged Dax’s armor while the others increased the heat threshold.

“Shut up and run!” Dalia yelled.

She took off at full speed toward their cover.. Dax drew his shotgun and knife while following her closely.

“We can’t stay put,” Dax called out.

“No, but one of the escape pods went up about twenty paces behind these trees,” Dalia replied. “I’m betting their hulls are heat resistant enough to let us even the odds.”

“Or at least hold them off until Mark shows up.”

Dalia hurdled the fallen tree as if it weren’t even there. Dax jumped. Placing a closed fist on it, he vaulted himself over while firing blindly behind them. They both landed between the trunks.

Ash continued to rain down around them along with shards of wood from the incoming fire on all sides. Dax reloaded his shotgun and shook his head.

“I’m thinking there may be a few too many people that way too.” Dax chuckled.

“You’re laughing?” Dalia asked.

Dax looked up. The cruisers started to flare from entry. Explosions rippled down both ships, breaking them into thousands of smaller chunks.

“Well, I’m thinking our troubles will no longer be an issue in about a minute and a half.”

The ground started to rumble while a series of robotic roars cut through the trees.

“With their size and drag, we’ve got three minutes,” Mark shouted over the plasma fire.

A Spinosaurus charged through the overgrowth with Mark standing on its head.

“And always remember, life, uh, finds a way. CHARGE!”

35

TRAMPLE

A raptor-like robot leapt over Dalia and Dax, charging the Valtukta. Screams rose from the smoke as the artificial reproductions of predators and prey alike swarmed the invaders. Most attacked from the ground; a handful swooped from the sky. Weapons discharge filled the already burning forest.

Mark’s Spinosaurus lowered its head. The young man, staff in hand, offered his free one to them. Dalia took the offer and climbed on. Dax followed suit, putting his close-range weapon away once again before drawing his pistol.

“Hang on,” Mark shouted.

Dax activated the magnets in his boots. Dalia grabbed on to one of its spikes.

“Get us out of here, Goldblum,” Mark ordered.

With another roar, the robot dinosaur charged forward. Fallen trees broke against its shins. Dax bent his knees, bracing himself while watching the war unfold beneath them. His heart rate slowed, and breathing returned to normal, leaving an adrenaline-fueled pain in his chest now they were no longer being shot at.

“What took you so long?” Dax asked.

“I wasn’t the only one trying to get control of that node,” Mark replied.

An escape pod was flattened underfoot like an empty soda can. One of the Valtukta got caught in the foot as it charged forward. With a Wilhelm scream, he flew ahead of them, smashing into a tree with a crunch.

“At least someone’s having the full Stormtrooper on the forest moon of Endor experience,” Dalia said.

“Dax, if you weren’t with her, for that alone, I would be,” Mark replied.

Dax let out a laugh, looking at his scorched armor Battle Bonded.

“I love you,” he shouted over the carnage.

“I know,” Dalia replied.

She raised her hammer, absorbing an incoming shot. A low roar filled the air accompanied by a heat increase warning for their environment. Mark’s mount broke the Valtakuntera lines, allowing the dinosaur to lean forward and open up to its full speed.

“Looks like the dinosaurs being wiped out by the asteroids isn’t just an Earth thing,” Mark cackled.

“Out of everything you doubt, that’s the one thing you don’t have some newfangled conspiracy theory about?” Dax asked.

Mark turned to him and shrugged. Dax’s HUD flashed an ordnance warning. He looked up to see a wall of red accompanied by falling trajectories for each piece of the ships.

“Henuva,” Dax shouted.

His heart started to race once again. Pins and needles flooded his body as a numbness sunk in.

“PITA’s in place,” the Valtukta replied.

“Good, because you’ve got ten seconds before the sky falls on you,” Dax replied.

“How sure are you that shield will hold?” Dalia asked.

“I’ll hold it; otherwise, my name isn’t Pain In The Arse,” PITA shouted loud enough to carry through Henuva’s mic.

“Make sure you’re clear, though,” Sandrina chimed in. “This powerful of an electromagnetic field will be able to scramble your brains.”

“We’re already clear,” Mark replied. “And heading straight for Tylira.”

“Which will likely be a trap,” Dalia added.

“Of course it’s a trap,” Mark replied. “Now get over here and hang on to me.”

“Mark,” Dax scolded.

“We’re about to have flaming wreckage rain down around us at re-entry speed. It’s going to take every amp of power our suits have generating a shield of our own to deflect glancing blows from taking us out,” Mark countered. “Which means you get over here and hang on to me as well.”

In a flash of orange and a wave of heat, one of the pieces of debris slammed into the ground to their right. It kicked dirt over a hundred feet into the air. It rained down around them while another sliced through a tree to their left.

“Valid point,” Dax said.

He rushed to Mark’s side along with Dalia. Huddling together, both humans lifted their left arms and curled their fingers as far back as they could.

“What if there’s a direct hit?” Dalia asked.

“At almost eighteen thousand miles per hour, we wouldn’t even notice the impact,” Dax replied.

“At least it’ll be quick,” she said with a nervous chuckle.

A smaller, flaming shard of metal sparked as it twisted and bent against the invisible field overhead. It crashed into the ground a few inches off their mount’s side. Dalia looked back, accompanied by Dax.

A large chunk of the fuselage plummeted directly for the domed city. Dax held his breath. Every muscle in his body tightened along with Dalia’s grip on him. He clenched his jaw, screaming a prayer for it to work.

Dirt lifted off the ground in a circle around the city. One of the few surviving Valtukta, along with a bunch of terraformers, were thrown like ragdolls away from the city by an invisible force. Sparks jumped along the moving segments of their ride as the air was static charged to the point Dax felt the hair on his body rise inside his suit.

With a deafening crunch and a burst of flames and sparks, the fuselage crumpled against the makeshift shield. It punched partially through it from its weight alone before being flung away. Part of the destroyed cruiser slammed into the ground, trembling the planet and nearly throwing the Spinosaurus off its footing.

A second large piece hit directly above the city. It broke apart like a dry twig and tumbled to either side. Smaller shards continued to rain down around them as the dirt surrounding the Dal’no city fell to the ground. Its massive cannons whirred to life, pointing toward the sky.

Every one of them opened fire at the falling debris, incinerating incoming steel to join the rest of the falling ash. Dalia’s grip on him loosened, causing a crush warning he didn’t notice to blink twice before disappearing. As he breathed a sigh of relief, another massive piece hit the ground a hundred yards away from them. It still showered them with dirt and branches.

“We’re clear of the big debris,” Henuva said. “How are you guys doing out there?”

“Being clever and alive,” Dax replied.

“How’s PITA?” Dalia asked.

“The last thing he said was ‘tell Dalia she’s a stone-cold hottie’,” Sandrina replied. “Then there was a bunch of sparks, dripping plastic, and his tail exploded.”

“I’m sorry, Mark,” Henuva added.

Dax looked at their dino-wrangler. His helmet continued to face forward while a stoic silence permeated from him.

“Mark, you okay?” Dax asked.

“He saved the Dal’no,” Mark said.

His voice was so low, it was hardly audible over the fire raining down around them.

“If the insulation of his primary boards didn’t hold, then at least he didn’t do something completely and utterly unhinged as his final act,” Mark replied.

Dax’s HUD flashed a direct hit warning.

“RIGHT!” he barked.

With a twitch of the staff, Mark made their ride dodge to the right. A mostly melted, partially burning toilet slammed into the ground next to them.

“That would’ve been embarrassing to get killed by,” Dalia said.

Her people’s city quickly faded behind them, leaving only artillery-grade plasma rounds of blue light ripping through the sky, incinerating the smaller pieces of falling metal. Eventually, the fire stopped raining, leaving only a growing wall of smoke. Dax’s armor blinked at ten percent power left. He dropped his left hand, followed by Mark.

“That’s me, almost out” Mark said.

“Same,” Dax replied before looking at Dalia. “How’s yours looking?”

“Well over half, but a lot of head compromises where you and Xero didn’t patch,” Dalia explained.

“I noticed the same thing,” Mark replied. “If we had armor made out of our patches, we could just walk through Valtukta attacks.”

“Just like his name, there is zero chance he’s going to let us do that,” Dax countered. “Something tells me the material can’t be replicated and only sourced on that world. If we have a full suit and the Valtukta get their hands on it, who knows what kind of damage they could cause.”

Mark nodded before looking at the sky.

“Mom, how are you doing up there?” he asked.

“Oh, my Mijo,” she replied, her voice breathless and trembling. “I thought for sure that would’ve killed you. I’m so glad you’re safe.”

“It’ll take more than two falling cruisers to take us out. Are your ships holding up?”

“We’re losing ground fast. If it weren’t for your metal girlfriend, we would’ve lost already,” Ashley replied.

Dalia gave Mark a playful poke in the ribs.

“Just hold out a little bit longer,” Dax chimed in. “You’ve got reinforcements heading your way. They should be there any minute.”

A series of explosions rumbled through the radio.

“MOM!” Mark shouted.

“I’m here, I’m okay,” Ashley replied. “We’re getting supporting fire from the ground. Our scanners are out, is that you?”

“It’s Henuva and Josh,” Dalia replied. “I guess there are fewer friendly fighters left up there. They can shoot without worrying about hitting our own people.”

“We are down to fifteen,” Ashley replied. “But this should buy us a few more minutes.”

“Good. If the reinforcements don’t get here in time, all we need to do is kill Tylira. She’s leading this attack,” Dax explained.

“Cut off the head, take its place. Just like I did with these ships,” Ashley replied.

“Exactly,” Mark added.

“She’s the one who stabbed you in the eye, right, Mijo?” Ashley asked.

“Yes, but she’s not getting a chance to repeat that trick this time,” Mark replied.

“Good, and this is the only circumstance you’re going to hear your mother say something like this, but kill her this time and make sure she’s dead,” Ashley ordered.

“Yes, ma’am,” Dax replied.

Her line went silent. Dax looked toward Dalia while they continued to charge at full speed through the gargantuan forest.

“Are you okay?” Dax asked.

“Just keep your focus on the mission at hand,” Dalia said, “not the burning world around you.”

“That’s a Kane mantra if I’ve ever heard one,” Mark said.

“She’s right, though,” Dax replied. “We need to keep focused on the fight in front of us.”

“I am,” Mark said.

“I wasn’t talking to you.”

Dax took a few more deep breaths, re-centering himself.

“Kane, how are things looking for you?” he asked.

Silence filled the radio. He tilted his head and double-checked they were still connected. The channel was, in fact, open.

“Kane, are you there?”

“Why isn’t he answering?” Mark asked, concern filling his voice.

“I don’t know,” Dax replied.

He looked at the holographic map being projected from his vambrace. On its edge blinked an arrow indicating Kane’s location. After a few seconds, he noticed the pattern was erratic.

“Computer, record and transcribe the blinking of that arrow,” Dax ordered.

Less than ten seconds later, a transcript appeared on Dax’s HUD.

We have eyes on Tylira. She’s not alone.

There’s a battalion of Death Squad here.

Plasma weapons won’t help. This will be close range.

Malcoth’s scout regiment is in vicinity.

They will aid with fight.

Our sensors are picking up your movements.

Stop where you are.

Approach on foot.

“Good old-fashioned Morse Code,” Dax said.

Mark tapped his staff. The Spinosaurus slid to a stop and lowered its head. Dax, Dalia and Mark climbed off before it stood back up and looked at them.

“What’s the plan?” Dalia asked.

“We meet up with Kane and figure out what to do from there,” Dax replied.

“Might I make a combat suggestion?” Mark asked, holding his staff up.

“By all means,” Dax replied.

“You two meet Kane. I stay here. You wait until you engage the Death Squad. Let me know once they’re sufficiently distracted, then I come in cloaked with Goldblum here.”

“I like it,” Dalia said.

“Same,” Dax added. “But you do know that Goldblum wasn’t in the one with that dinosaur, right?”

“Yes, but Dr. Allen Grant doesn’t seem to suit him,” Mark said, giving Dax a playful pat on the hip. “He’s too suave to be a Grant.”

36

RENDEZVOUS

Dalia’s elbow nudged Dax’s. He looked at her from a crouched position behind a rock. She pointed to a nearby tree. A Bastet stood on a branch with an odd-looking rifle. Next to her was a Dal’no with a sword in one hand and a pistol in the other.

“Didn’t think they’d get here already,” Dax whispered.

“Backup or the Bastet?” Dalia asked.

“Both.”

They crept forward. Dax’s ears listened for any rustling, cracking of branches. An eerie silence settled on the forest planet. No birds or bugs, only raining ash and the slight rustle of a tepid wind.

Dalia retracted her helmet. She thrust out her chin and let out a groan that sounded like a branch about to snap. Dax noticed the Dal’no above them turn and look at her. Barely moving his wrist, his sword shifted, its point aimed at the ground a few yards in front of them. She nodded before closing her helmet over her head once more.

“Kane’s just ahead,” she said over a closed frequency.

“When’d you learn to make a noise like that?” Dax asked.

“If you think that’s good, you should hear my rustling sand,” Dalia mused.

They pressed forward, each step made carefully, not to fall on something that could give their position away. Dax kept glancing up at the Dal’no until the sword tip pointed directly at him. He looked around. Nothing but the undergrowth of the forest.

Confusion and a hint of frustration swirled inside Dax while he continued to look around. The remnants of his adrenaline surge helped him see over a dozen Dal’no, blending in with the forest greens. They all looked at Dalia and Dax.

“You think he’s wrong?” Dax asked.

“I very much doubt it,” Dalia replied.

She stared at the ground between them before pointing downward. Dax followed her finger. Lying between them with his rifle pointed ahead was Kane. His armor was covered with flora from the forest floor. Black greasy material was smudged across his face, leaving the whites of his eyes to pop against his camouflage.

“You’re good,” Dax whispered.

“I keep telling you, being able to blend into your surroundings and disappear completely is a useful skill,” Kane whispered. “Now, if you’d so kindly get down here.”

Dax and Dalia knelt next to him. He pointed at the tree line’s edge where Con’s ship went down.

“She’s out there, just standing, waiting for us,” Kane whispered. “It’s no doubt a trap, so Malcoth went to investigate.”

“And I didn’t find anything of use,” Malcoth whispered.

His voice came from inches away from Dax’s helmet. Dax took a sharp breath and turned toward the Dal’no, his heart skipping a beat before an exhale of relief found its way from his nostrils.

“I didn’t even hear you,” he whispered.

“This is my forest. If I couldn’t navigate it without being noticed, I don’t deserve my position in the tribe.”

“What’d you see?” Dalia asked.

“She’s not using the ship’s weapons as the trap. We took that power core after the wreckage stopped burning,” Malcoth replied. “There’s nothing hooked up to what’s left of the weapons systems either. However, I do think she’s lost her mind.”

“Why do you think that?” Dax asked.

“Because it looks like she’s having a conversation with the galaxy’s favorite Bastet skull,” Kane replied.

“Yes, she’s puppeting its jaw and changing her vocal inflections to have a deeper voice,” Malcoth replied.

Dax looked toward the wreckage. Plants blocked his field of view. He leaned around, unable to get a good look before leaning toward Kane’s rifle scope, putting his head in front of it.

His helmet immediately locked onto the Death Squad armor with the human skull etched into its relatively shiny visor. She gestured with one hand while the other was stuck under a skull covered in leathery, mostly rotted away skin with several tufts of scorched red fur hanging from it.

“What in the living Deadpool 3 am I looking at?” Dax muttered.

“My guess, a woman whose brain finally snapped,” Kane replied. “She’s been at it non-stop for an hour.”

“Please tell me I’m not the only one who thinks this is a trap,” Dalia whispered.

“Absolutely not,” Malcoth replied. “That’s why I sent most of my forces this way when we got news there was a drop out here.”

“It’s probably a ship, hiding just out of view,” Dax said, standing back up. “The second we go out there to confront her, it’ll show up and unload on all of us.”

A series of rustling leaves waved through the forest. Malcoth looked up at another Dal’no before shaking his head.

“No ship,” he replied.

Dax shifted his suit’s helmet view into different light spectrums. On infrared, he didn’t see anything. Thermal revealed hundreds of Dal’no and Bastet hiding in the forest and nothing but the Valtukta in front of a ship, hot in the noonday sun. He quickly returned back to normal to preserve power.

“I don’t see any bombs, and there’s nobody outside. The ship’s hull is too hot to see through. My guess is her reinforcements are in there.”

“If that’s really her at all,” Kane added. “She’s got a slight hunch she’s never had before. It could be a decoy.”

“Or that Dax pulled her into space, broke her visor and spat radioactive waste into her face,” Dalia added.

She pointed at Dax while turning toward him.

“I know what you’re thinking, and no. You can’t march out there by yourself as a distraction to try and spring her trap early,” Dalia snipped.

“How’d you know I was planning on doing that?” Dax asked, flabbergasted.

“She’s your Battle Bonded. She knows you better than even you know yourself,” Malcoth replied.

“I think it’s a good idea,” Kane chimed in.

He remained completely motionless on the ground.

“Excuse me?” Dalia snipped.

Her whisper entwined with a hiss.

“Nobody hates Dax more than she does. She’ll still be emotional from their last bout. She’s likely prepared for all of us to come charging at her, but if Dax marches out there, by himself, enraged at the death of his team, it’ll throw her off and she’ll make a mistake,” Kane replied. “I’d offer to put on the suit and pretend to be him, but he’s gotten bigger than me since the bite.”

“What if I did it?” Dalia asked. “I can handle more punishment than you can.”

“But I’ve got more Boronian tech in my suit than you do, meaning more of their shots won’t damage me.”

“We need to make a decision, soon,” Malcoth cut in. “Before one is made for us.”

A high-pitched whine cut through the silence. Dax shot a look from Malcoth to Kane. Both men shook their heads.

“That sounds like one of our bikes,” Dalia whispered.

“Yeah, but Mark took the last one and I didn’t see it when he picked us up,” Dax countered.

“The sky was literally falling on us. It’s easy to miss something when you’re trying not to die,” Dalia countered.

Kane rose to his feet. He picked up the rifle and started toward the tree line. Dax, Malcoth and Dalia followed. They stopped just inside, still out of sight of Tylira. Their last hover bike sputtered across the clearing. Smoke billowed from its heavily damaged stabilizers while drifting alone toward the crash.

“What is it?” Malcoth asked.

“I’m willing to bet it’s Mark,” Dalia whispered.

Dax quickly shifted his HUD back to thermal vision. He let out a defeated sigh, seeing a humanoid figure sitting on the bike, struggling to keep it upright, and a staff attached to his back.

“You’re not wrong,” Dax said, shifting his visor back. “Looks like Xero’s upgrades really like working with yours.”

“Am I the only one who thinks this might be a bad idea?” Malcoth asked.

“Just because it’s a bad idea doesn’t mean it’s not a good time,” Kane replied with a chuckle. “I’m interested to see how this plays out.”

Several bangs from the bike backfiring echoed across the forest. Tylira turned toward the bike, holding the skull out toward it. Dax couldn’t hear what she said, but he saw the skull’s mouth move in response. She quickly threw the remains on the ground before stomping them to pieces.

“Yep, that’s Tylira,” Dax said. “No other Valtukta has that short of a fuse.”

“Clearly, your last encounter has made her go insane,” Dalia warned.

Kane hefted his rifle up to his shoulder, taking aim at the Death Squad leader once again.

“Which means she’s more dangerous than ever,” he said with a tilt of his head. “Malcoth, get your men ready. The fan is about to get hit.”

Malcoth leaned his head back. He pursed his lips and made the sound of a gentle breeze with surprising ease. After a few seconds, the breeze drifted through the forest without rustling a single leaf.

Dax watched as the bike slowed to a stop. He drew his pistol, gripping it tightly while Dalia loaded her last Fat Mac shot. Tylira inched her way toward the piece of equipment. She drew her weapon and aimed it at the unstable transport while moving closer to it.

“Mark, what are you planning?” Dax whispered.

Curiosity grasped at him, trying to take over, tempting him to activate his HUD to see Mark once more. His eyes darted to the power level. There wasn’t enough to keep doing it and be ready for the impending fight.

The bike shut off. Dax couldn’t help but lean forward, unblinking, not wanting to miss a second. Tylira took a half step back, pointing her pistol with more purpose as the engine cut off.

Each second passed like an hour. Dax’s heart raced. He consciously focused on his foot, stopping it from tapping with impatience. The bike let out a groan, dropped to the ground and fell to one side.

Tylira took another half step back. Dax’s ears started to ring in desperation, looking for any sound to pick up on. The silence was nothing less than deafening.

“Whatever’s about to happen, get ready. When it kicks off, you’ll need to move fast,” Kane whispered.

The groan of leather on Malcoth’s sword hilt may as well have been a scream as his fingers tightened around its grip.

“We’re ready,” Dax replied, taking aim.

Tylira continued to inch toward the fallen bike. Dalia’s gun let out a soft click while she chambered her last round. Everyone but Kane winced at the noise. To Dax’s relief, Tylira continued to move closer to the bike.

“Do you think that’s the dinosaur he was riding?” Dax asked, desperate to kill the torturous silence.

“It’s a terraformer, not a transformer. He’s not riding into battle on Optimus Prime,” Dalia countered.

She raised her rifle as well to take aim.

“I could probably cut her in half right now,” she added.

“Let Mark’s plan play out,” Kane countered.

Tylira reached the bike. She quickly inspected one side. Grabbing the handles, she lifted it off the ground to inspect the others. Dax watched as the Valtukta touched what looked like wet blood on the seat, smearing it. She ran it between her fingers for several seconds before lowering her gun.

Dax’s free hand moved to his belt. He felt around, not touching anything. Switching gun hands, he moved his other set of fingers over his belt; still, nothing. Lowering his gun, he looked down to a waist sporting only his knife.

“What are you doing?” Malcoth asked.

“It’s important,” Dax replied. “Is there anything in the center of my back?”

He leaned forward. Malcoth looked before shaking his head.

“I don’t see anything.”

Dax’s mind flashed to the pat on his lower back Mark had given him. Excitement and despair rushed through him while Tylira reached for the seat cover and pulled it up, causing a spring-loaded spoon to flip out of the bike.

“You sneaky little monkey,” Dax whispered.

An explosion ripped the bike apart, completely engulfing Tylira in purple light.

37

CLASH

Tylira flipped through the air, her armor smoking while pieces flew off. She hit the ground with a thud, followed by a series of labored grunts. Before anyone could react, a green flash of light emanated off the wreckage in mid-air, firing a beam of plasma directly at her.

It struck something invisible, fracturing into half a dozen beams and slicing through the ground and air. Mark’s outline flickered before becoming fully visible.

“Mark, what are you doing?” Dax asked.

“Shut up and trust me,” Mark whispered. “And whatever you do, don’t break cover yet.”

Tylira pushed herself to her feet, keeping her back toward the forest.

“I’ve got a clean shot,” Dalia said.

“We don’t know what that shield will do. Hold your fire,” Kane countered.

“You!” Tylira snarled.

“Yes, me,” Mark shouted back.

He recoiled before letting out a disgusted laugh.

“Oooo-hoo-hoo, he got you good, didn’t he?”

“I know you caught him,” Tylira snarled. “Where is he?”

“He’s on my robot dinosaur headed this way,” Mark replied.

The ground started to rumble. Trees at the far-right edge of the clearing trembled while a robotic roar cut through the air.

“And this time, he’s going to make sure you’re bitten in half,” Mark added.

“What is he doing?” Malcoth asked. “We need to get out there.”

“Hold,” Kane countered. “If he’s doing this, he’s got information we don’t. The boy’s good, trust him.”

Malcoth let out a frustrated snarl but held his position. Dax watched the Spinosaurus burst from the clearing, its metal gleaming in the sunlight before charging straight at Tylira.

“I’ve got visual,” Tylira said, her voice dripping with confidence. “Spring it.”

The ground churned. Familiar robots pulled themselves out of the dirt. Their chests glowed a molten red while charging at the incoming mound of metal. Dax watched in shock as they climbed onto it before detonating one by one, blasting pieces of metal off it and slowing its advance.

It stepped on one of the robots. The explosion blew its foot off, making the dinosaur collapse to the ground. Every humanoid drone piled on top of it, destroying themselves and the Spinosaurus at the same time.

“DAX!” Mark screamed.

He took several uneasy steps toward the smoldering ruins before falling to his knees.

“Someone better start polishing an Oscar,” Dax muttered.

“Take the weapon in,” Tylira ordered.

Gnarled pieces of metal from the ship fell away. Nearly a hundred Death Squad members rushed out of the crash, pointing their weapons at Mark while a handful started scaling it to take him into custody.

Dax’s jaw dropped. His heart skipped a beat while every muscle in his body tightened. He instinctively grabbed his shotgun while clenching his teeth and swallowing hard.

“I taught you well, boy.” Kane chuckled. “Dalia, take out Tylira. I’ll cover Mark.”

Dax turned toward Malcoth, gripping both his guns tight.

“Let’s see what you’re made of,” Dax said.

Dalia took the first shot. Her last Fat Mac round whistled through the air toward Tylira’s head. Dax’s brief glint of hope quickly vanished as the round sparked against her shield, flew off course and struck two of her soldiers, killing them.

She whipped around, revealing a shattered helmet no longer covering a deeply scarred face with a fully white left eye. A snarl pulled up her already gnarled lip. She raised her rifle to return fire. Dax shot at her. The Bastet round sailed off in a different direction.

“I should’ve known. Kill them all!” Tylira screamed.

Kane fired; his bullet pierced the neck armor of the Valtukta reaching for Mark’s back. Malcoth let out a primal roar. Bastet weapons and Dal’no sound cannons quickly filled the battlefield while the Death Squad turned and opened fire into the trees as well.

Nearly half of the Death Squad set down metal blocks that expanded and rose four feet into the air, creating cover. Tylira retreated to the lines her fighters were making. Dax rushed out with Malcoth at his side.

Kane fired again, killing a second Valtukta making a move for Mark. Dax watched as the young man spun his staff, cracking a helmet with the base while blasting another one with a green beam.

Dalia broke cover, charging in with them. Her hammer hung in one hand while her Dal’no weapon sat in the other. Plasma rounds sailed past them. Malcoth dodged several with the limberness of someone half his size.

“Dalia, put a hole in the barrier!” Malcoth ordered.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dax watched her raise her sound rifle and fire. She aimed for the center, where Tylira was. The blast rattled their cover but didn’t cause any damage. She shot a second time. Again, nothing.

“I guess I’ll have to do this the hard way,” she growled.

She dropped her sound cannon and grabbed her hammer with both hands.

“Charge me, babe,” she ordered.

Dax raised his Bastet pistol and opened fire on her weapon. Each shot struck the mysterious metal, charging it up with a flickering blue light.

“Take her down,” Tylira’s voice broke through the sound of combat. “Kill the one with the hammer, now!”

Dax’s heart lurched in his throat as twenty rifles pointed at Dalia.

“Sorry, Malcoth,” Dax shouted.

“Do it,” the Dal’no countered.

Dax leapt toward Dalia and pointed the soles of his boots at Malcoth’s still mostly intact armor. Activating the repulsing magnets, he flung himself toward his Battle Bonded while throwing Malcoth off balance.

Dropping his Bastet pistol, Dax landed in front of Dalia, raised his left hand and curled his fingers back just as the Valtukta opened fire. Their rounds splashed against his repulsion, rapidly draining his power banks.

“Go over,” Dax roared.

Without missing a beat, she leapt over him. Her battle cry was so loud, it momentarily shorted out his suit’s speakers. He could still hear her over everything as she sailed through the air.

With several controlled breaths, Dax forced an adrenaline surge, slowing his perception of time. Dalia’s hammer touched the top of the Valtukta barricade. A blinding flash of blue light sparked, causing the metal to begin to crumple.

Lowering his left hand, Dax pushed off the ground toward Malcoth. A few rounds struck his armor where Xero had repaired it, restoring a fraction of the charge he’d lost. Lunging forward, he raised his obscenely large shotgun while grabbing two more shells from his bandolier.

Dalia’s hammer crunched through the barrier. Once it hit the ground, another pulse of energy erupted from it. The explosive repulse sent Valtukta and the surrounding barriers flying in all directions.

Malcoth lunged into the air, spinning with his swords gleaming in the sunlight. His scouts joined the fight, wielding the weapons they used to fight the Underbeasts. Dalia spun and slung her hammer, taking out three more while Tylira aimed a strange-looking weapon at her. Dax turned his helmet transparent.

“Hey, ugly!” he roared.

Tylira turned, locking eyes with him. Her scarred face twisted into something filled with hate. Dax fired at her. Her shield flared, sending the pellets he’d launched scattering. With a flick of his thumb and a twist of his wrist, two smoking shells flew past his head. As he loaded the next shot, she turned her gun toward him.

“I should’ve known your kind were liars,” she screeched.

Flames twisted down the barrel of her gun before dancing into the air in a fireball. Dax’s HUD tracked an incoming projectile too fast for him to dodge. Sparks danced across his chest as her bullet smashed into his armor.

“She’s got slugs,” Dax shouted.

Kane’s shotgun rang out; Tylira’s shield flared once again.

“Your guns can’t break my barrier,” she taunted while continuing to shoot.

Her bullets peppered Dax in the upper chest and helmet. He raised one arm to protect his throat, while turning the weakened shoulder joint out of her line of sight. One of her soldiers took a step back, entering her shield.

“Maybe so, but I’m not a gun,” Dax countered.

He barged through where her shield was. Light flashed around him while he passed. Dax grabbed the barrel of her strangely human weapon, twisted it to one side and fired his shotgun at her gut.

A quick chopping motion with her hand knocked his shotgun out of line. A single pellet struck her, denting her armor while the rest sailed past, obliterating a Valtukta in the process.

“For the Star Tribe!” Mark roared.

He leapt off the crashed ship, his staff in one hand and a stolen knife in the other, joining the fight that devolved into a melee where ranged weapons were of little use.

“You die this time,” Tylira snarled.

She drew her k nife, stabbing his chest where she’d previously slashed. Her knife sparked, deflecting off the mysterious metal. Shock filled her face before being replaced by rage. She slashed again. He leaned back, narrowly dodging a swipe at his face.

“What is that?” she snarled.

“Not telling you,” Dax replied.

He slid two more shells into his gun, flicked his wrist and snapped it shut. With a quick, upward motion, she spun, dodging the attack. On her lower back, Dax noticed a diamond-shaped device dangling from her belt with Dal’no etched along its edge.

“I think I found your shield generator,” Dax called out.

“Where?” Malcoth asked.

He swung his swords, narrowly missing one Valtukta while cutting into another’s armor.

“How’d she get it?” he asked.

Tylira thrust her knife at Dax’s shoulder. He turned, narrowly dodging it before headbutting her, making her take a half step back.

“I don’t know, I’m a little busy,” Dax shouted.

He spun his shotgun, clipping Tylira’s chin with the butt. The impact set both barrels off. Pellets bounced off her legs and punched into the ground while ricocheting off Dax’s legs.

Impact warnings flashed across the HUD display of his legs. Tylira’s arms moved faster than she’d done before. Grabbing his weapon, she spun the barrel, nearly twisting it out of his grip.

“I could use a little help,” Dax shouted.

“Little busy,” Mark and Dalia said in unison.

Malcoth let out a scream of pain. Dax glanced at the Dal’no, he crushed the head of the Valtukta that had planted his blade deep into a crack of Malcoth’s armor. He pulled the knife out, stabbed another Death Squad member and dropped to a knee while other Dal’no rushed to his aid.

“Get it, Wing Cutter,” Malcoth grunted.

Kane cut through the Death Squad, passed through Tylira’s shield and swung his oversized sword at her lower back. A shudder rumbled through her body and into Dax’s armor. The device fell to the ground.

“More like back slasher,” Kane called out.

He grabbed the shield projector. Turning, he flung it out of the field of battle. Tylira grabbed the fingers on Dax’s left hand and forced them back. His magnetic gauntlet repelled her grip. She spun, knife in hand, and thrust.

A stomach-churning squelch cut through the air. Dax froze. Time slowed to a crawl around him. His heart stopped in his chest while Mark’s blood-curdling scream cut through everything else.

“That’ll have to do,” Tylira sneered. “Evac, now!”

She pulled her knife free. Blood spurted from Kane’s throat and out of his mouth. His eyes widened; a hand went to the wound. Crimson spilled through his fingers. A large ship screamed overhead.

Dax’s HUD read magnetic pulls emanating off the backs of every Death Squad member as they yanked themselves out of the battlefield and onto a ship passing overhead. Dax dropped his shotgun. He rushed toward Kane, catching him as he fell to his knees.

38

COST

Queloth’s ship dropped out of leap space over the planet accompanied by a fleet of Alcazar, Ryshy and Broken Shield vessels. They surrounded the Valtukta cruisers while Dax watched in disbelief as Tylira’s ship vanished, allowing her to escape once again. The Dal’no craft shook violently, snapping him out of his daze.

“Keep pressure on the wound,” Dalia barked.

“Why isn’t he healing?” Mark asked.

Dax looked down. His hands were covered in Kane’s blood. He held the hole in the center of his throat as closed as he could. Wheezing sputters rose from the soldier’s mouth as his eyes rolled uncontrollably in every direction. Dax’s HUD picked up on his fading vitals, flashing warnings to him.

“Henuva, Sandrina, get the city open now!” he screamed.

“What’s going on?” Sandrina asked.

“Kane’s been stabbed in the throat; he’s not healing. We’re inbound on a Dal’no troop transport and coming in fast!”

Silence came over the open channel. He heard a soft gasp before Henuva cleared his throat.

“Copy that, we’re on our way with emergency medical,” the Valtukta replied.

A high-pitched ringing filled Dax’s ears. His mind raced a thousand miles an hour over every boring combat triage lesson Kane taught him and every dumb question Mark asked. The pit in his stomach grew deeper when the question of what to do should someone get stabbed in the throat rang through his head. Kane’s reply: pray.

“The city’s opening!” Malcoth shouted from the front of the transport.

Dax kept his eyes on his work, being careful enough to hold everything together while not accidentally strangling his mentor. They shifted while pulling up and sailing through the separating sections of the dome. With a quick turn, the pilot landed them in the city center.

Dalia gave the bucket-like troop transport’s back panel a powerful kick, breaking its connectors. It fell to the ground. Henuva, Sandrina and a half a dozen Dal’no physicians rushed up the ramp.

One knelt next to Dax. She shoved his hands out of the way, taking over holding Kane’s wound while the others lifted him onto a floating stretcher. Malcoth limped over, handing the Death Squad knife he’d been stabbed with to a doctor.

“He was stabbed with one of these,” Malcoth said. “If that helps.”

“Every little bit does,” the doctor said, taking the knife. “Move, to triage!”

Sandrina watched as they ran him past her, blood trailing. She shook her head, snapping herself out of her daze.

“I-I’m going to go with them. If they need help with human physiology…” she said.

Before she was done with her sentence, she charged after the doctors. Henuva looked at the blood-soaked team. His helmet retracted, showing wide eyes.

“What in the underverse happened?” he asked.

“T-Tylira, she set a trap,” Mark whispered, falling back into the transport and dropping his staff. “I sprang the trap too soon. This was, this was me.”

Hearing the young man blame himself broke the shock and disbelief that nearly froze Dax in place. He stood up, retracting his helmet. The stench of copper burned his nose, accompanied by the charred scent of fiery wood.

“You saved us,” Dax countered.

He walked over to Mark and pulled him to his feet.

“I checked that area for explosives, for other soldiers. She hid her forces and bypassed the explosives with androids I couldn’t detect,” Dax countered. “We all would’ve died if we’d gone out there.”

He held Mark’s shoulders, looking directly into the young man’s bloodshot, tear-welling eyes.

“You did good. This wasn’t your fault,” Dax continued. “Do not go down that road. It’s impossible to come back from. This is Tylira and no one else.”

“What made you think to do that?” Dalia asked.

“If I were laying a trap, it’s what I would’ve done. Something untraceable to lure…” He trailed off.

Dalia walked over to him. She picked up Mark, who’d gone catatonic from shock.

“I’ll take him to the medical wing and have him looked at,” she said softly.

Dax nodded.

“We’ll meet you there as soon as we can.”

Cradling Mark, Dalia walked in the same direction as the doctors. Dax turned to Malcoth, motioning at the blood pouring out of his armor.

“Let me take a look at that,” Dax said.

“It’s nothing,” Malcoth countered.

“There’s been plenty of senseless death today,” Henuva argued. “Don’t be proud. Get that armor off and let us take a look at that side.”

With a reluctant growl, Malcoth grabbed his shattered armor and peeled it off himself like a frayed tin can, dropping it to the ground. His hulking mass was covered in fresh burn marks and shallow cuts. A slice in his lower abdomen poured green blood.

“You need to get that looked at,” Dax ordered.

“Not until I check in with my chief and give a full report,” Malcoth countered.

Henuva pushed past Dax. He slipped on the pool in the ground. Pausing, he looked from Kane’s blood, back up to the professor. For the first time, Dax saw genuine concern in his features.

“You’re not going to be of use to anyone if you die,” Henuva said after a moment of silence.

He regained his footing and approached Malcoth. Leaning down, he sniffed the wound.

“What are you doing?” the Dal’no asked.

“Checking to see if you smell like poop,” Henuva replied.

“I’m covered in blood and sweat; of course I’m going to smell bad.”

“No, literal poop,” Henuva countered. “If your bowel was damaged, the wound will smell terrible. It’s just preliminary, though. There could be a nick somewhere, so you still want to get it checked out.”

Henuva picked up the staff. He gripped it with two hands and twisted. The gem started to glow. With a step back, he pushed it against Malcoth’s wound. A sizzle, accompanied by his grunt of pain, rose from the second in command.

“There,” Henuva said, the staff’s power failing. “That’ll at least stop you from bleeding out until you can get a quick sitrep and find a doctor.”

“Malcoth?” a voice boomed.

Dax turned around to see Josh standing next to the building Kane was brought into. He looked around, a hint of confusion on his face with a Dal’no spear in his hand.

“Malcoth!?” he shouted again.

“Over here,” Dax called out.

Josh’s eyes widened upon seeing Dax. He rushed to the transport, looking at all of the blood in horror before turning his attention to the Dal’no.

“Are you Malcoth?” Josh asked.

“I am. Why are you holding the chieftain’s spear?”

Dax noticed Josh clench his jaw. His colleague swallowed hard while gripping the spear tightly. The pit in his stomach grew.

“Malcoth, I am so sorry,” Dax said softly.

The Dal’no closely inspected the spear. He looked over at Dax, his shoulders slumped, and head partially hung. The warrior trudged toward Josh and placed a hand on the weapon.

“May the World Mother guide his soul,” Malcoth said softly.

Josh released the weapon. Malcoth took a deep breath, stood straight up and turned toward Henuva.

“I guess this means I can go straight to the physicians, then,” he said.

“I would,” Henuva replied.

The Dal’no marched out of the ship and toward the medical building as well. Josh cleared his throat before looking nervously at Henuva.

“I think you need to see what happened to PITA,” Josh said.

“Not yet,” Dax countered. “Mark’s out of commission, Kane’s entering surgery and unless I’m mistaken, you don’t have universal donor blood. I’m going to help Kane; you coordinate with the Junkyard to get PITA sorted.”

Josh gradually turned his attention to the blood on Dax’s hands, then the floor. His eyes widened.

“What happened?” he whispered.

“Kane was stabbed in the throat and he’s not healing,” Dax explained. “That’s why you’re coming with me, Henuva. You built us this way, maybe you can fix him.”

Josh toook a step to the side and motioned toward the building acting as their hospital. Dax rushed past him while waving for Henuva to follow.

“You’re going to talk me through this. Is there any sort of coating your people could put on weapons that would hamper our ability to heal?” Dax asked.

“Not to my knowledge and research,” Henuva replied, quickly catching up.

“Then what’s stopping Kane from healing?” Dax asked. “I’ve taken a slash to the bone on my femoral artery. Our anatomy says that’d kill me almost as fast as getting my throat cut.”

The doors slid open for them. Dax followed the trail of blood to a hallway leading to a back room where Dal’no shouts rose for different medical equipment.

“You’re not gods. You’re slightly more durable humans,” Henuva countered. “Your leg healed because there was meat, bone and vessels. A throat injury…his body’s probably prioritizing not letting him drown in his own blood.”

Dax stopped outside of the room the shouts came from. He started to disassemble his armor while Henuva continued to talk.

“The messages for where to send cells to repair damage are controlled by the brain. If she cut deep enough, she may have damaged his spine,” Henuva continued. “If the injury is high enough, not only would he be a quadriplegic, that factor would be severely weakened. Like where it was before I got my hands on you, weakened.”

Dax stepped out of his suit, leaving it in an organized pile on the ground.

“Then what can you do to help him?” Dax asked.

“I’m not a physician. If I thought I had a chance at saving him, I’d be in there with Sandrina, not out here talking to you,” Henuva snipped.

“Fine, go find Dalia and Mark, check in on them and make sure they’re okay,” Dax said before looking at the doors. “I’ll keep you posted as I learn anything new.”

Henuva nodded. Dax pushed open the doors. The stench of antiseptic wafted into his face accompanied by a wave of blindingly bright lights. He squinted, his eyes adjusting to see Kane hooked up to a half a dozen machines. There was the annoying uneven beep of a heart monitor and Sandrina barking orders to the doctors.

“What are you doing here?” Sandrina shouted. “You’re not sterilized.”

“We can worry about the infection later. Right now, he needs human blood, and I’m a universal donor. Hook me up to him.”

Sandrina looked at one of the assisting Dal’no not currently doing anything.

“You heard the man, get a transfusion line,” she ordered before looking at Dax. “He’s lost a lot; you know this’ll require a dangerous amount from you?”

Dax rolled up the sleeve of his shirt while pulling up a chair near Kane’s feet and sitting down. The assistant glided next to him, quickly disinfected his arm, then Kane’s, and connected them by needles attached to a clear tube.

“He’s saved my life more than once,” Dax said. “The least I can do is try and stabilize him.”

Blood traveled from Dax’s arm to Kane’s. He sat for what felt like hours, watching the doctors work while gradually feeling more and more lightheaded. Eventually, he passed out. Sandrina barked orders to disconnect them and get a bag hung for him. Her words sounded like he was underwater.

He remained in the void of unconsciousness for what felt like days. He was somewhat aware of his body and could hear people talking around him but couldn’t make out the words.

Dax’s head dropped forward. The shock of it bouncing back up jolted him awake. He was still in the room. Everything was cleaned up and sterilized. Sandrina sat on the other side of the bed, her head resting on Kane’s lap.

The beeping of his heart monitor was dangerously slow. Dax looked at the hardly noticeable peaks and valleys. Kane’s head moved slightly. He snapped back to see Kane’s eyes fluttering open. Dax tried to stand, hope and adrenaline fueling him. He fell back into his seat, wooziness and gravity overpowering his will.

“You’re awake,” Dax said softly.

Kane’s eyes moved to look at him. Dax grabbed his crew member’s cold, motionless hand.

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have been so focused on Tylira that you felt like you had to give me your helmet,” Dax said, his voice barely over a whisper.

Tears burned his eyes. His voice and breath trembled with each word. He gripped Kane’s hand even tighter.

“This should’ve been me, not you,” Dax added.

A small smile spread across Kane’s face. His head only slightly moved, but clearly left to right in a silent reprimand. Guilt flooded Dax. He sat forward, wrapping his other hand around Kane’s. The soldier’s eyes rolled to the back of his head; the lids fluttered closed.

Denial and a pain Dax hadn’t felt in nearly two decades surged through him. He gripped Kane’s hand as tightly as he could. What was left of Kane’s strength vanished. He went limp in his bed as the monotone screech of his heart monitor shattered Dax’s world.

39

HONOR

Howls of sorrow-filled melodious songs rose through the air. Dax leaned forward, gently placing the torch on the pyre. Flames spread across the wood, rising into the air. Kane lay motionless, his mustache in perfect, curled form with a cloth over his throat and his gray jumpsuit cleaned as much as possible.

Dax’s heart ached while he watched his old friend be consumed by flames. Each breath caught in his chest, making it impossible for him to take anything more than a shallow gasp. His eyes burned and vision blurred before wiping tears away.

His familiar mixture of rage and sorrow boiled in his gut, barely tempered by the sight of his Battle Bonded. Back in her native garb, she danced and sang around the pyre. Her voice added a hauntingly beautiful melody to the sight.

“I’m sorry,” Josh said softly. “He seemed like a good man.”

Dax looked at his colleague.

“He was,” Dax replied. “The kind who was willing to do the right thing no matter the consequences.”

“This galaxy doesn’t have enough men like that. I doubt we’ll ever see his like again.”

Dax looked to their right. Malcoth danced around a flaming pile of logs that held the deceased body of Nalath. Half a dozen members of the council and chieftain guards joined him.

“There are more than you’d think,” Dax replied. “Where’s Ashley?”

“She’s with Mark. She and Jun are helping him try to fix PITA,” Josh replied. “Are you sure he shouldn’t be here for this?”

Dax watched Dalia continue to glide around Kane. She shifted from one foot to the other, spinning and jumping with the grace of a ballerina. He felt like an invisible hand was wrapped around his heart, squeezing it tightly.

“The kid’s tough, but I don’t think he could handle seeing this,” Dax replied after a few seconds. “Kane was like a father to him. He needs his mom right now.”

“Isn’t saying goodbye the first step of letting go?” Josh asked.

Dax scoffed and shook his head.

“Trust me, it’s the last step. I’ll gather his ashes when it’s done. That way, Mark can say goodbye when he’s ready.”

Dax looked down the mountainside. Below sat the Dal’no city. Bastet, Ryshy and Broken Shield members fought the fires made by Valtakuntera plasma weapons and the crash of two cruisers.

The Junkyard was parked in a destroyed clearing next to Buzzro Shrod’s personal vessel. Memories of their arrival and fight flooded his mind. The track through what was once a barren wasteland, the bug that called the quarry home and the collapsed mound whose remnants they stood on top of.

“You know what the irony of this place is?” Dax asked.

“I know this is the Mount of Liberation, but that’s about it,” Josh replied.

“The bugs that the Valtakuntera dropped on this world. They had a queen in a nest that, if she and her guardian were killed, would mean the end of the bugs, giving the Dal’no a chance to survive,” Dax explained.

Dax looked at the hundreds of other burning piles stretched across the top of what was once a mountain. He took a deep breath, trying to ignore the stench that came with the Dal’no’s way of saying goodbye.

“This is where Dalia’s father sacrificed himself to bring the mountain down on the queen. He killed her, bringing a temporary period of peace, until we… I provoked Tylira’s wrath.”

Josh placed an arm on Dax’s shoulder. He didn’t have to speak a word for the professor to know what he was thinking.

“I know, I can’t blame myself for it. You can’t predict insanity and can’t take responsibility for their actions,” Dax muttered.

“It’s like you’re reading my mind,” Josh replied. “I may not be able to do much in this wider galaxy, but I will do what I can to help you find her.”

“No,” Dax countered. “Your job right now is to ensure Ashley’s security. Make sure nothing happens to her. Leave the hunting to those in the crosshairs.”

Josh nodded. He removed his hand and fell silent. After a few minutes, he turned to make his way back down the hillside. Dax turned his attention back to Kane. Dalia continued to dance as the sun started to set. She didn’t stop, even when darkness fell and the stars came out. Once the log structure burned down to nothing more than smoldering embers, she stopped.

Dax made his way over to her. In the dim light of the moon and embers, he could see tear stains down her face. Her normally happy expression was gone, replaced by a solemn one.

“Goodbye, my dear friend,” she said softly. “My father really liked you. Now you can rest together in eternity with the World Mother.”

Dax reached out and took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Thank you for doing that,” he whispered. “I know he would’ve appreciated it.”

“It’s the least he deserved,” she said softly.

Dax looked at all the other low-burned embers. Most of the Dal’no had returned to the city below by now. Malcoth was one of the few who remained. He approached, the chieftain spear in hand, leaning on it for support.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” he said softly. “The Wing Cutter was a fine warrior who made any Dal’no who fought beside him proud.”

“Thank you,” Dax replied, looking between both giant green people. “I’m sorry for yours. You were just starting to bounce back, and then this.”

“They would’ve come sooner or later,” Malcoth explained. “Dal’no’nuuur is no longer safe. The Ryshy have offered us sanctuary in their space sectors until the Valtakuntera threat has been neutralized.”

“After just getting this world back, you’re just going to leave it?” Dalia asked.

“It’s not a decision I make lightly. We can either hold on to this world, and let go of our race, or release it and survive,” Malcoth explained. “I would prefer our people survive. Besides, it’s not like we’re leaving everything behind.”

He looked at the closed city below them and all of the greenery and life that sat inside the bubble.

“That’s a starship. We were known as the Star Tribe for a reason. This way, we return to our roots and bring a little bit of home with us,” Malcoth replied.

Dax looked up at Dalia. She swallowed hard before giving an approving nod.

“So long as our people survive,” she said in a near whisper.

Malcoth reached out to Dax with an open hand.

“This is goodbye for now. If you ever need anything, you can always reach out to us,” he said.

Dax grabbed the Dal’no by the forearm and gave the giant a firm shake.

“Likewise,” Dax replied.

Malcoth turned to Dalia. He bowed toward her.

“It’s an honor to hold the position your father once did,” Malcoth said softly. “But know, should you ever wish to claim his role as head of our tribe, it will be waiting for you.”

“I could think of no better chief for the Star Tribe than you,” Dalia replied.

Malcoth stood upright, flashed her his tusks and limped away, using his spear to support his weight. Henuva passed the Dal’no at the mouth of their path down. He held an ornate jar engraved with an OGRE skull, the emblem of Kane’s regiment and that of the Star Tribe. He handed the surprisingly light jar to Dax.

“I hope I didn’t overstep on my choices for the engravings,” Henuva said softly.

“Absolutely not,” Dax said, inspecting it. “He would’ve loved this. Likely make a comment about it being an ugly paperweight, but he would’ve loved it nonetheless.”

Dax gave the lid a gentle pull. It didn’t budge. Twisting it unscrewed the lid. Dax walked into the dying embers, leaned over and gently scooped some of Kane’s ashes into the urn until it was half full. He screwed the lid back on before cradling it in the crook of his arm.

All three started back down the path toward the ships below. Dax glanced up to see visible chunks of debris flipping through space along with Ashley’s two remaining cruisers, protected by Ryshy and Broken Shield crafts.

“With your people, when you say goodbye, you don’t put all their remains in the urn?” Henuva asked.

“It’s not possible to distinguish what was once wood from what was once our loved ones,” Dax said softly. “It’s more a ceremonial act to keep them close, or scatter them to say goodbye.”

“You treat your dead with as much respect as the Dal’no do ours,” Dalia said.

“What do you do with yours?” Dax asked.

“We launch them into space,” Henuva replied. “In Valtukta culture, it’s about strength. If you fell, then you were weak. There’s no use for weakness in their ranks, so it’s out the airlock or leave you where you fell. You could at least fertilize the ground and be useful for something.”

“That’s a brutal way of looking at the fallen,” Dalia said.

“We’re a brutal race,” Henuva explained. “The bugs, the biological experiments, the extinction of dozens of races so they don’t pose a threat to us later… If anyone deserves to be wiped off the face of the galaxy, it’s the Valtukta. I’m just sorry they took another great man before it happened.”

“Not all of your people are evil,” Dax countered. “The fact some died defending the Dal’no today and that they’ve sent out warnings about impending attacks lends credence to the fact that they’re just led by corruption.”

“You’re saying we take out the corruption, my people may become respectable?” Henuva asked.

Dax nodded. Dalia placed a hand on his upper back, rubbing it. Her contact sent chills running through his body, calming the rage that he struggled to keep contained. Henuva looked at Dax’s ash-covered hand. He cleared his throat before motioning at it.

“I see you’ve got a little Kane on you,” he said softly. “Please tell me you’re not planning to wash your hands off in the ship. One thing I know about him for sure is that he’d hate the idea that any part of him would end up in the black tank.”

“If I did that, I imagine he’d come back and flush me for it,” Dax said with a chuckle.

He looked up at Dalia while motioning toward the city.

“I was thinking about washing in the temple before going back to the Junkyard. Let part of him rest in a holy place of your people.”

“And be with the ship as it sails through the stars?” she asked. “I don’t see why that would be an issue.”

“Thank you,” Dax said, handing the urn to Dalia. “Do you mind holding on to this and waiting for me? I feel like this is something that needs to be handed to Mark and Sandrina at the same time, by all of us.”

“I’ll go get her,” Henuva said. “She’s near the quarry burying the Bastet that fell today.”

EPILOGUE

Dax drifted through the void, a tether cable clipped firmly to his waist. Inspecting a piece of space debris, he located familiar, high-value pieces of technology inside. Uncoupling them, he pushed the piece of metal toward Dal’no’nuuur far below. Sandrina drifted by him, a crate attached to her waist. She snatched the piece of tech from him and put it into the box’s one-way portal.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time out here,” Dax said, keeping his eyes on his work.

“It’s peaceful,” she replied. “It’s helping me process, not seeing the pain in Mark’s face, no matter how hard he tries to hide it. Or the intrusive check-ins by Jun and Dalia.”

“Henuva?” Dax asked.

“He actually asked if I’d be willing to test out a gene-altering serum of his that stops you from feeling pain and sadness,” she replied.

“That’s called an anti-depressant,” Dax said.

He pulled a drifting computer toward him with his magnetic glove. Catching it, he ripped the outer panel off and removed its motherboard. Sandrina took it and slid it into the crate.

“Go back to Earth, find the nearest college campus and open a vehicle’s glovebox. You’re more than likely to find several bottles of the stuff.”

“How does it work?” Sandrina asked. “Is it effective?”

Dax stared down at the world below for a few silent moments. He shook his head.

“There are those who need it, there are those who think they need it, and then there are those who can’t handle who they’d be without it,” Dax said softly.

With another pull of his hand, he dismantled another piece of salvageable equipment and passed it to Sandrina.

“With things like this, it’s hard, and it hurts in places you didn’t even know you had, but if you ask me, this isn’t a pain you should dull,” Dax said softly. “It’s something you should feel, you should process. If you lean on chemicals too much, it can lead to a cycle of dependency and make you a shell of your former self.”

“I take that as you’ve never used them?” Sandrina asked.

She grabbed a floating gun and slid it in the crate.

“No, I haven’t,” Dax replied.

“And do you think that amount of rage did you any more favors?” Sandrina asked.

“I had no one to lean on, no one to understand what I went through,” Dax explained, continuing to work. “I lived in a society where men weren’t allowed to show emotion. Anything other than stoicism was viewed as a sign of weakness. I internalized everything. Held it in until it boiled over.”

Dax grabbed a Valtakuntera armor and pulled off its electric implant before shoving the body toward Dal’no’nuuur. Within seconds, it started to burn up on entry.

“That was my fatal flaw. I let society dictate how I expressed my emotions until I turned into a homicidal maniac.”

Sandrina turned to look at him, placing a hand on the crate.

“Are you worried that I’m going to become one?” she asked.

“Not you,” Dax replied. “But I’m going to tell you the same thing I’m going to tell Mark. I loved Kane like a brother. I’ve processed this kind of loss before. Having someone to lean on will help, and I’m here to be that pillar if you need it.”

“He’s not the first love of my life that I’ve lost,” she said softly, her voice trembling slightly. “And after last week, my people’s waning numbers dropped even more. I’m losing my race. I can handle the loss of a love.”

Dax gave her a nod. He reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Yes, and the loss of a love can hit harder than losing a race.”

“You’ve got a planet full of people,” Sandrina countered.

“People I can never see again. The punishment for my crimes now that I’ve escaped and ostensibly blew up part of a school will likely be execution. There may be billions of them, but Kane, Mark, Ashley and Josh, to me, are the last of my race.”

“I’ll remember that,” she said softly, giving him a nudge. “I’ll likely take you up on that offer one day.”

Dax started to drift away from her due to the nudge. Dax’s radio crackled to life.

“Kid’s out of his room,” Henuva whispered. “You want to get back here and talk to him before he disappears again?”

Dax looked at Sandrina, she nodded toward their ship.

“Go on. He just lost his father; he needs you more than I do,” Sandrina said. “Besides, this is therapeutic for me.”

“You sure?” Dax asked.

She nodded.

“I’ll be right there,” Dax replied.

He turned, grabbed his cord and pulled himself toward the Junkyard. Reaching its underbelly, Dax pressed on the cable retractor Dalia insisted on installing for scavenging the wreckage around Dal’no’nuuur.

Once the cable was fully retracted, he attached his hand next to the dining room airlock magnetically. Unbuckling himself, he opened the door before pulling himself in and shutting it behind him.

After repressurizing, he turned his attention to the inner door. Unlocking it, he gave it a gentle push. No extra resistance countered him. Dax opened the door, moving the booth’s seat in the process. He retracted his helmet, greeted by the musty, rusty air of their ship.

Mark looked up from the coffee press, his once glistening eye now muted. His features were downturned, with deep creases around his mouth and across his forehead.

“Are you going to ask if I’m doing okay too?” Mark asked with pointed words.

“I’m experienced enough to know the answer to that question already,” Dax replied.

He climbed out of the airlock and shut it behind him. Readjusting the seat pad, he turned his attention back to Mark.

“Everything else goes to the wayside,” Dax said with a sweep of his hand. “And I mean everything. Jobs, side missions, I mean even the freaking empress herself. Unless it serves the purpose of finding Tylira, it gets put on the backburner.”

“We find her, I get to do it,” he snarled through gritted teeth.

“How do you plan on doing it?” Dax asked.

Mark’s robotic eye started to glow while holding up his pot of coffee.

“I’ll make what Henuva went through seem tame.”

Dax shook his head. A hint of fear twisted in the back of his mind as he recognized the look on Mark’s face.

“You remember me when I first joined this hunk of junk, right?” Dax asked. “The mess I was, how I didn’t care if I lived or died, or about your and Kane’s sentences?”

“You’d take every job,” Mark grumbled. “Probably added five years to our sentences. Not that they wouldn’t be extended until the end of time for escaping and everything else we’ve been up to.”

“That was the result of vengeance,” Dax said softly. “And I don’t want you to become that same shell of a man that I did. You’re too young, too full of life to experience that kind of hollowness.”

“If you’re telling me we’re bringing her in, you’d better put that helmet back on because I’ll throw you right out that airlock.”

“Absolutely not,” Dax scoffed. “If we left her breathing, you and I both know that Kane’s ghost would come back and make our lives a living nightmare. I’ve seen Event Horizon, and I don’t think the Junkyard could handle a possession like that.”

“So, she dies?” Mark asked.

“If it’s done in a way Kane would be okay with, yes,” Dax replied. “But we do it as justice for him, nothing more.”

“It’s a shame,” Mark grumbled. “I would’ve loved to work on her the way you did Henuva.”

That jab sent a twinge of guilt through Dax that made him flinch. He clenched his jaw and shook his head.

“Given time to reflect, that’s not something I’m proud of. And if you remember, it wasn’t something Kane was proud of either.”

“Fine,” he relented. “I accept your terms, under the condition it’s me who does it.”

“Sandrina was his mate. If she’s okay with it, I won’t stand in the way,” Dax said.

Mark let out a low growl. He grabbed a mug and took the pot of coffee with him as he marched out of the mess hall and back toward his quarters. Dax looked around the kitchen, making his way behind the counter. A pile of five-pound bags of coffee beans lay on the ground with a letter written in Dal’no.

This was all that could be salvaged of the

coffee plantation. On the bright side, they’re

pre-roasted from the forest fire. On the downside,

they’re dark roast. I figured it belonged

to the family of the man who brought such an

amazing beverage to the stars.

-Malcoth

“That’s awful kind of you, you big lug,” Dax said under his breath.

He turned and made his way to the main deck. Dalia and Henuva stood next to the pilot’s seat with Jun at the controls.

“He’s not even letting his curvy robot girlfriend in?” Dax asked. “He’s taking it harder than I thought.”

“Agreed,” Henuva said.

“He did look a little happier when brooding back to his room,” Dalia pointed out. “What’d you tell him?”

“The truth,” Dax replied. “We’ve been dealing with Tylira in half measures. Everything takes a back seat until we bring justice to Kane.”

“Your justice?” Henuva asked, waving his robotic hand.

Dax looked at the Valtukta and narrowed his eyes.

“Kane’s justice,” Dax countered.

“Shame,” Jun chimed in. “I would’ve liked to hear her scream.”

“Me too,” Dalia replied.

“Let’s get off of this dour topic. Are you here to watch the launch?” Dax asked.

“Yep, should be happening any second now,” Dalia replied.

“We’ve already told Sandrina where to look,” Jun added.

Henuva pointed where the Dal’no city was. A patch of scorch scarred the lush, green world. A flash of blue light flickered on the planet’s surface before rapidly tearing across the sky, leaving a trail of exhaust behind it. It took almost five minutes, but the city-sized ship broke through the atmosphere and into space. A metallic protrusion the size of a skyscraper, emerged from what was once the base of the city.

The radio crackled to life as Ashley, Queloth and Ruthnar’s ships took escort positions around the Dal’no Vessel.

“This is Ryshy Escort mission,” Tarluth’s voice came through.

“We’ll keep you safe,” Ashely’s voice added.

In a flash, the small armada disappeared into leap space.

“And just like that, we’re among the stars again,” Dalia whispered.

“Your ancestors would be proud,” Dax said, leaning into his Battle Bonded.

“I know,” she said, leaning back.

They gently pushed off one another. Dax made his way to the charging tubes. His weapons sat on their racks, graciously returned by the Bastet who acted as support. Removing his armor, he placed it on its stand before double-checking the new red accents on his gloves.

Dax’s heart pounded in his chest at the sight. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath to center himself and shut the charging tube.

“I think I’m going to get some rest,” Dax said.

“Where do you want to start our search?” Jun asked.

“Since Tarluth got rid of all of his clones and we can’t set another trap for her that way, we go to the one place in the galaxy that’s a hive for all scum and villainy,” Dax replied.

“We’ve been over this,” Henuva chimed in. “Tatooine isn’t a real place.”

Dax cracked his first smile in days.

“I appreciate your spot-on reference, but I was talking Tachyon. If anyone has a lead on her, it’ll be there. Just wait until Sandrina’s done. She’s using the time to process,” Dax replied. “So don’t spam her with messages.”

Dax made his way to the crew’s quarters. Reaching his door, he unlocked it and opened it to the sound of grunting. He froze in place at the sight of a scorched PITA squatting in the middle of his floor with his LED light eyes clenched. A new tail sat on the ground while the cyber dog was halfway through 3D printing one of his ears.

“You kidding me?” Dax squawked.

PITA’s eyes opened and turned toward him.

“Don’t look at me!” the charred corgi squealed.

BOOKS IN THE STARSHIP BANDITS UNIVERSE

1. Starship Bandits

2. The Last Scoundrel

3. Deadman’s Run

4. War Tide

5. Void Signal

6. Dark Matter Gambit

7. Eon’s Edge

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