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MOBILIZE

STARSHIP BANDITS

BOOK NINE

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

8. Manhunt Overwatch

9. Mobilize

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PREVIOUSLY ON STARSHIP BANDITS

Dax and the Junkyard crew went on the offensive. They tapped their most influential resources in hopes of finding where Tylira was hiding out. After a run-in with the Toxic Queens and their pet bioweapon, Dax, with the help of Buzzro Shrod, removed the petty annoyance from the board completely.

That pointed them to a familiar world, one where Sandrina joined the team. Meeting Bleeze’s contact, an ancient shapeshifting being that seemed to know infinitely more than he’d let on, they were given directions to a pirate den.

Following a thin lead, at best, they got caught up in another minefield from an ancient war. This time, it was set by those fighting the Valtakuntera. The team ended up trapped on a planetoid inhabited by the descendants of the stranded victims of that war. Their leader? A legendary Valtakuntera warrior that caused Henuva to fangirl.

With only one hope to escape the world, minefield and an ancient, genetically engineered plant bioweapon, Dax and company had no choice but to trust the Valtakuntera soldier. His cowardice proved their trust in him was a mistake. Narrowly escaping the Grasper, and through the sacrifice of several locals, they managed to get off the world, save most of those formerly stranded, and lay waste to the bioweapon through ‘volatile engineering.’

Finally making it to an overrun, desolate world inhabited by only the worst people in the galaxy, a bargain was struck. Help us take down Tylira, and the Death Squad infestation will leave your world. Through the mechanical manipulation of the city, all of Tylira’s escapes were cut off. True to form, she continuously tried to retreat, falling into trap after trap set by Sandrina and Dalia.

Tylira’s upgraded suit kept her alive longer than any other armor set could’ve. In the end, Mark got his justice for Kane, giving the Junkyard crew command of the Death Squad. They retreated to Dal’no’nuuur to scatter Kane’s ashes over the coffee field he loved so much.

1

REGROUP

Henuva’s helmet sat a little tighter around Dax’s head than was comfortable. The heads-up display was almost non-existent, barely able to mark anything outside of a ten-foot radius. The stench of bad tacos and sauerkraut burned his nostrils while he marched through the ship.

“You know, I would’ve been perfectly fine not wearing a helmet,” Dax pointed out.

“You’re in the middle of a Death Squad cruiser. You’re not going in there without being fully armored,” Dalia countered over the radio.

“Yeah, but why does it smell so funky in here?” Dax asked.

“Sweat and fear,” Henuva replied.

Dax’s stomach turned at the explanation. He let out a groan and shook his head.

“Things I don’t want to know. I thought your suit was sealed at the neck.”

“It is,” Henuva said. “When Valtukta experience different emotions, the sweat produced sports a different scent. It’s from way back in our early days as a way to warn if something was safe or not.”

“Your people never cease to amaze,” Dax huffed. “I couldn’t use a helmet from someone on a team who doesn’t have such a small head?”

“PITA says that it’s not me; it’s that five-head you’re sporting that’s the problem,” Henuva replied.

Dax walked past a medical bay. He only had a split second to look inside. The number of men and women holding their stomachs and writhing appeared to be around a hundred. No other injuries seemed to be attended to.

“Sandrina, how long was that antidote you made supposed to take to kick in?” Dax asked.

“It wasn’t a full antidote,” she replied. “It was just enough of one that they wouldn’t die. They’re still going to be cramping and, Mark, how did you say it?”

“Going off like Old Faithful,” Mark replied from right behind Dax.

“Yeah, that, but only for another day or two while their bodies work it out of their system,” Sandrina added.

“Out of all of the horrible things in this universe, I’m really glad the Ghost Rider doesn’t exist,” Dax huffed.

Mark sped up, reaching Dax’s side. He walked backward with the M4 against his shoulder, ready to fire at a moment’s notice.

“Penance Stare?” Mark asked.

“I mean, it does make you re-live the pain and humiliation you’ve caused in your life, and in that case, I’m fairly certain the butt cramping would somehow get involved.”

“Strong point, but maybe we could point him at the empress and get all this done with, nice and quick,” Mark replied.

“We wouldn’t be that lucky.” Dax chuckled.

The armed escorts rounded a corner to another large corridor. A dozen yards ahead to their left, the wall slid open, spilling blue light into the hallway. Their armed escorts walked them toward it.

“It’d be lucky if we get out of here alive, that’s what’ll be lucky,” Mark countered.

“They’re not going to kill you,” Henuva jumped in. “Me? Absolutely. But not you two. You’re just being taken to the second in command, that’s all.”

The guards moved to the doorframe, lining the wall. One nodded for them to enter. Dax was the first one through. Mark followed but stopped three feet inside the door, aiming his weapon at it.

Dax looked around the circular room. Men and women rose from their chairs, looking at Dax and Mark in disbelief. They all had ash black skin, long, straight, white hair and sharp, elegant features. The only difference was the colors of their irises.

A woman in the center of the room stood up. She put her hands behind her back and turned to face Dax. Her black uniform was highlighted with gold trim, emphasizing the cuffs and collar, making her stand out from the others. Her chest was covered in medals and commendations. Her black and silver eyes narrowed while staring at Dax. It felt as if she was staring through him.

“Henuva, is your species a Matriarchy?” Dax asked.

“Why do you ask?”

“Because aside from you, it seems like everyone in a leadership role is a woman.”

“We didn’t used to be,” Henuva replied. “Then the empress took over and that changed things.”

“Isn’t that when you said your people went full homicidal maniac?” Mark asked.

“That’s misogynistic,” Sandrina cut in.

“Correlation doesn’t mean causation,” Dax countered. “He just pointed out a correlation, which doesn’t mean causation. If he said the reason they went all homicidal was because women were in charge, that would misogynistic.”

“We can hear you,” the woman called out.

“Sorry,” Dax said with a wave of his hand. “We were just sorting some last-minute things out. I’m Dax. The man pointing a gun at the door is Mark…”

“We know who you are,” she interrupted. “Tylira made sure we knew everything about you, OGRE.”

“Well then, you seem to have me at a disadvantage. I don’t know your name.”

“I’m Fanwrith. I was Tylira’s second in command. I guess I’m yours now,” she said, motioning toward Dax. “It was you who killed her, correct?”

“That honor was left to Mark,” Dax said, nodding toward the young man.

“It was your plan,” Mark countered. “Wouldn’t have been able to pull it off without your plan. I’d say it was a fifty-fifty team effort split.”

“Then which one will be taking command of this fleet?” she asked.

“Again, that’d be him,” Mark added.

Fanwrith’s brow raised. A smirk of superiority pulled at the corners of her lips.

“Just for planning and no action?” she scoffed.

“If you want me to take control, fine,” Mark said, keeping his eyes locked on the door. “But I’ll tell you to fly into the nearest star as fast as you can.”

“Ah, so you’re the measured one,” Fanwrith said, looking back at Dax. “It must’ve been the other one who extracted information from Henuva so meticulously.”

“No, no, that was me,” Dax explained. “But I’m trying to be a better example for Mark, and my crew, and me if I’m being honest. Now, you want to tell me why you called us to your ship?”

Fanwrith looked at the Dal’no blade on Dax’s hip. She motioned toward it.

“Give me your knife,” she ordered.

“No offense, but the last Valtukta that touched this thing stabbed him in the face.” Dax motioned toward Mark. “Cut off my friend’s arm, and murdered a collector, so forgive me if I ask why you want my knife.”

“It’s a ritual,” Henuva said over the radio. “They’re not yours completely until they swear a blood oath. And she has to draw blood with your weapon. Give it to her.”

“That’s a terrible idea,” Dalia said.

“If he doesn’t, they’ll stand on their last orders, and might I suggest that those orders were to kill us all?” Henuva asked.

Dax grabbed his knife and pulled it from his sheath. He held it up, aiming its point at Fanwrith.

“You try anything…”

“I’m more than aware what you’re capable of,” she cut him off.

With a flick of his wrist, he spun the knife around and offered her the handle. She walked over to it and took the blade before inspecting it. Dax’s hand lay nonchalantly at his side. The muscles in his arm tightened, ready to spring into action and grab his pistol if she made an aggressive movement.

Fanwrith ran her finger across the spine of the knife. She gave the tip a gentle poke before looking at the simple, wood handle. Raising the weapon, she looked down its edge before testing its perfect balance.

“I have to admit, this is a beautiful blade. One of the best hand forges I’ve ever seen. I would love to meet the smith who made this,” Fanwrith confessed.

“I hate to break it to you, but given your people are responsible for hers nearly going extinct, and making them flee their world, I don’t think she’d be interested in a meeting,” Dax explained.

“Yeah, she’d probably try and forge your head with her hammer,” Mark added.

“Shame,” Fanwrith muttered.

With a flick of her wrist, she put a gash across her palm. Dax winced, shaking his head as she raised her hand, silver running from the cut in her skin.

“I offer you the blood pledge of myself and every man and woman under me,” she said without reacting to the cut. “Until another that is stronger than you proves themselves, we will be your hand, your sword and your shield, until our, or your, dying day.”

Silence fell on the room. Fanwrith kept her eyes locked on Dax without moving while a hint of awkwardness started to coil to life.

“This is where you hold up your hand, Dax,” Henuva said. “Don’t worry, it’s not a blood-sharing oath, but you do have to lift your hand.”

Dax lifted his armored hand. The Valtukta pressed her palm against his, covering his gauntlet in her blood.

“Now tell her you accept the role,” Henuva instructed.

“I accept this role,” Dax replied.

She pulled back. Dax looked at his hand and shook his head.

“You’re going to want to get on an antibiotic regimen, like, immediately. This glove is not sanitary in the slightest,” Dax suggested. “And I don’t mean to tell you how to conduct your customs, but the hand is such a valuable appendage that’s used so much, why would you damage it intentionally?”

“That’s exactly why,” she said. “We show our fealty by sacrificing the use of what we use most for a short time.”

She flipped the knife around and offered the handle back to Dax. He took it and slid it into his sheath. Dax looked at Dal’no’nuuur in the projection screen that took up the entire wall in front of him.

“What do we do now?” Dax asked.

“We follow your orders,” Fanwrith replied. “And they are?”

Dax pursed his lips and nodded while his mind started to race.

“Allow my colleague and me to think about that for a bit while we explore your ship,” Dax said.

“Of course. This is a Death Squad cruiser. It’s different from the science vessel you met Henuva on,” Fanwrith explained. “You may see things you’re not ready to. But you’re free to explore all you want.”

“Excellent. As you were,” Dax ordered.

Fanwrith turned and returned to her chair while everyone went back to work. Dax made his way back to Mark and placed a hand on the OGRE skull on Mark’s shoulder, leaving a silver palm print behind.

“Let’s poke around some,” Dax suggested.

“Sure thing, Saruman,” Mark replied, looking at the handprint on his arm.

2

TOUR

Dax and Mark left the control room while Fanwrith wrapped her hand in a white cloth. She pointed at a nearby man and motioned toward the captain’s seat. While Dax looked around the corridor and Mark kept his back against the wall with his gun up, she followed them with their escort.

“What are you doing?” Mark asked, looking at Fanwrith.

“If you’re going to take a look around the ship, I’d prefer you not get lost,” the captain replied.

“We’re more than capable of finding our way around, lady,” Mark countered.

“This ship has over a thousand corridors, almost ten thousand rooms and eighteen decks,” Fanwrith countered.

“You can come,” Dax said before looking at Mark. “But the escorts stay.”

“I accept your terms,” Fanwrith said.

Mark let out a grumble. Dax made a lowering motion with his hand. The young man stopped pointing his gun at the captain but kept it at low ready.

“Fine,” he muttered. “But you walk in front of us.”

“You’re our new commander,” she said.

With that, she walked, almost gliding past them, with her hands held firmly behind her back.

“Dax, what are you guys doing?” Dalia asked.

“We’re going to take a quick tour of the new ship,” Dax replied. “Maybe try and get Henuva a new gun, and if we can find more of those swords, another one or two of them too.”

“I don’t like that idea,” Dalia countered.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got trigger-happy Mark with me and he’s just looking for a reason to open fire on these people,” Dax explained.

“What do you mean by ‘these people’?” Henuva asked, a hint of sarcastic attitude in his voice.

“Don’t start being like that now.” Dax chuckled.

“If I may ask, how did our former commander die?” Fanwrith enquired.

She rounded a corner, and Dax and Mark followed her.

“I used the cybernetic eye she so graciously forced me to have to cut her leg off, then I torched her with PITA, our flamethrowing robot dog,” Mark explained.

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask you, what were you pulling on to get him to shoot flame like that? I didn’t see his legs move,” Dax asked.

“You really don’t want to know,” Mark countered. “Then our ship landed on what was left, just to make sure the job was done.”

“I also may or may not have shot what was left with our cannons before burning the rest with our ship by multiple, rapid re-entries,” Dax explained.

Fanwrith slowed her walk. Dax noticed her look down, from his angle, he could’ve sworn he saw an upturn on her lips.

“Good,” she said softly.

“I’m sorry, what now?” Mark asked. “Did the captain of a Death Squad ship just say ‘good’?”

“Yes, I did,” Fanwrith countered. “As your people would say, this is a bit of a hot take, but I personally never liked the woman. She put our men and my ships at unnecessary risk. She ignored standard operating procedure, and closer to the end of her life, she started to go mad and would kill anyone who would hesitate for as little as a second after she gave an order.”

“Yeah, that whole insanity thing was likely her body eating her brain to heal from damage,” Dax explained.

“Even before she experimented on herself, she was less than ideal to serve under. We only did it because the empress gave us no other option.”

“You could’ve said no,” Mark countered.

The captain continued walking.

“Yes, but then I would’ve condemned every one of our members to death. I can only hope the rumors I’ve heard about you making a play for her is true.”

“If it were, we’re not going to give that information up to the enemy,” Mark countered.

“How about we go with tentative allies?” Dax interjected. “They haven’t tried to kill us or capture us. And yes, the Junkyard might be locked onto their hull, but if they wanted us dead as badly as Tylira did, I don’t think that would matter.”

“He’s right, we’d be willing to take the damage if we wanted you gone,” Fanwrith continued. “And I can confirm your mission was complete. On the command deck, we have vital readings for all away team members. I’m impressed you managed to only flatline one. I figured with your reputations, we’d lose at least half our men.”

“It’s called innovation,” Mark chimed in.

“It’s called chemical warfare,” Dax corrected. “Do you know where the empress is?”

“No one knows where she is,” Fanwrith explained.

She stopped next to a closed door. A light ran up and down her body before the barrier hissed open.

“I noticed Henuva was shy a weapon through our combat feeds…”

“He had a staff,” Mark interrupted.

“He had your staff,” Fanwrith corrected. “And while there may be a kill-on-sight order for him given at a level higher than Tylira, I think it pertinent to re-arm him for, I’m assuming, the war to come.”

She motioned into the room. Dax stepped forward and peered inside. Guns, unlike anything the Valtakuntera had deployed before, lined the walls, floor to ceiling.

He stepped forward, letting out a whistle at the range of weapons from pistols to shoulder cannons that would make the Fat Mac jealous.

“Guys, please tell me you’re seeing this,” Dax whispered.

“We do have a clear view,” Sandrina replied.

“Dax, hold still. I’m going to use your suit’s sensors to see if there’s any funny business hidden in those guns,” Jun replied.

“Copy that,” Dax said, freezing in place. “Fanwrith, what are these?”

“They’re inspired by what we’ve seen of your, what is it? An M4? If the data Henuva skimmed from Earth’s computers is correct.”

“Yeah, it’s an M4,” Mark replied.

“Doesn’t that severely hinder your shot count?” Dax asked.

“No, because the projectile that is wrapped in a plasma field is little larger than a grain of sand. It uses the magnetism already existing to launch a sliver of metal stored in the magazine below the plasma generator and fires it at a percentage of the speed of light,” Fanwrith explained. “Not even your armor would’ve been able to stand against it.”

“If you had it, why not deploy it?” Mark asked.

“There were only enough working internals to make one. We were hoping to fill this vault, but your predecessor scrapped all extra work on the project to hunt for you,” Fanwrith replied.

“Well, that bites for you.” Mark chuckled. “Why offer it to us?”

“Would you allow us to use a weapon that dangerous?” Fanwrith asked.

She turned, looking at Mark, who shook his head. Dax took a deep breath. Before he could butt in, the captain continued.

“Then why would we let something we spent so much time developing go to waste? If we can’t use it, it’s best another Valtukta you do trust wields the weapon.”

She motioned to the crate tucked into the wall. Dax stepped into the room, looking around for any signs of a trap. To his relief, nothing happened. He knelt, pulled the crate out and opened it to see a Valtukta rifle designed to be slightly more angular.

Dax picked up the surprisingly light weapon and inspected it. His HUD ran another scan on the gun.

“I’m not picking up anything shifty on this one either,” Jun’s voice crackled through the radio.

“I’ll give it to him,” Dax said, standing up.

He exited the room. Fanwrith shut the door before continuing to walk through the corridor.

“From your description of this, I take it a warning comes hand in hand,” Dax said, inspecting the gun further. “Don’t shoot inside a pressurized vessel?”

“How’d you know?” Fanwrith asked.

“Because I’ve been hit with a piece of metal the size of a grain of sand going fifteen thousand miles an hour. It put a hole in my breastplate two inches deep and three wide. I imagine something going at least four-hundred-fifty times faster at that size would punch through a ship no problem.”

“You forgot what Operation Plumbbob did to the cruisers,” Mark chimed in. “And that thing was going significantly slower too.”

“That, I have to say, was a feat of tactical genius the likes of which our people have never seen,” Fanwrith cut in.

She motioned to a door to her right. As they passed, Dax looked inside. A handful of Valtukta were playing what looked like a teamwork, zero gravity version of pool. With an indication to her right, he saw a fitness room sat on the other side.

Strange machines filled the void on the other side of the wall. If they hadn’t been in use, Dax wouldn’t have been able to tell what the odd sculptures of metal were. Grunts and the clanging of metal sounded from the room. Mark poked his head in for a second before looking back at Dax.

“If that was a Planet Fitness, ‘lunk alarms’ would be going off left right and center,” he jested.

“Nothing more judgmental than the ‘judgement-free zone’,” Dax added. “What else do you have on this ship?”

“Are you talking research and development, medical labs, weapon testing, the two decks specially dedicated to arts and music…”

“Two decks for arts and music?” Dax asked.

“Yes, I believe your people called them plays, creative writing, art, in all its forms, music and linguistics,” Fanwrith explained.

Dax’s eyes widened. His heart skipped a beat as excitement bubbled within him.

“Aaaand that’s where we lose him,” Mark mumbled.

“You have an entire portion of this ship dedicated to the study of linguistics?” Dax asked.

“Yes, everything from learning the tongue of newly discovered species to deciphering those that have been considered long since dead,” Fanwrith replied.

“I want to see that so much,” Dax groaned, his mouth almost watering for it.

Mark approached him and gave him a poke in the ribs.

“What?” Dax asked. “I had to practically twist arms to get enough funding at the university just to get them to invest enough for a single class, and half of what I needed for research, and they’ve got an entire department dedicated to lost languages. How is that not exciting to you?!”

“Because out of every living species in this universe that finds languages exciting, you’re maybe one of five,” Mark replied. “They have those departments because, by learning the language, art and music of a people, it makes them easier to conquer. I mean, just think Thrawn and the Chiss Ascendency. All he had to do was look at a culture’s art and he knew enough about them to defeat them in battle.”

“This is a little more real than Star Wars,” Dax countered.

“Is it?” Mark asked. “We’re in the stars, we’re at war. It’s literally right there in the name.”

Dax looked at Fanwrith, whose stoic nature hardly cracked at the exchange. His brow furrowed.

“That’s not what you use those decks for is it?” he asked.

She remained silent. Desperation itched at the back of his mind.

“Is it?” he asked again.

The itch grew into an all-out clawing at the base of his skull. Fanwrith shrugged.

“Would it make you feel better if I lied to you?” she asked.

“It’s reasons like this the arts always get cut first,” Dax grumbled.

“Yeah,” Mark added, sarcastically enthusiastic. “Because if art programs got unlimited funding and didn’t turn anyone away, maybe a little Austrian boy’s art would be in the Louvre.”

Dax looked at Mark.

“You’re not helping.”

3

DEPLOY

“Are you sure you don’t want to enter our games?” a Valtukta in head-to-toe armor asked.

Dax double-checked his suit’s seals while Mark did the same. Both men turned toward Fanwrith.

“You want to explain it to him?” Mark asked.

“He doesn’t seem to be wrapping his head around our ‘no’,” Dax added.

Fanwrith looked up at the slightly larger Valtukta. Her hands remained firmly behind her back.

“Are you aware of exactly how many Valtukta have fought these men?” she asked.

“I know they’re dangerous, which would make for good sport,” the soldier replied.

“Two factions,” Fanwrith continued. “The High Science Division and us. Remind me, how many are left of the HSD?”

The soldier looked at the ground before kicking at nothing.

“One.”

“And how whole is he?” Fanwrith asked.

“Seventy percent,” the soldier replied.

“And at what strength are we?”

“A little over half.”

Fanwrith pointed at Dax and Mark, her unimpressed expression never changing.

“These two men are responsible for that. And you want them to enter the Brawl? Do you have a death wish?”

“I’ve heard they can fight; I’d like to see it.”

“We’re not typically ones to turn down a good scrap,” Dax explained, getting a final green light from his HUD. “But we’ve done the Brawl on Tachyon, Dal’no’nuuur, and it’s what got the Broken Shields on our side. All-in-all, I’d rather save my energy for fighting people that are my enemies now. I don’t know where we are in terms of strength, but whatever it is, it’s not enough to take on the empire you were previously a part of.”

Dax walked into a small room with Mark close behind. His radio crackled.

“I’m in position,” Jun called out.

“Copy that,” Dax replied.

He shut and locked the door. Fanwrith approached the window and pressed a button on her end. A speaker in the room squealed to life.

“And what are we a part of now?” the captain asked.

“Well, my new friend,” Dax said, putting his hand on a button. “You’re part of the Junkyard crew now. That makes you an OGRE.”

He shifted his weight. The button depressed. A piece of the wall behind them slid open. In a burst of wind, he and Mark were yanked out of the ship and into the void of space.

Dax turned around to see the Junkyard’s cargo bay open in front of them. He barely got his legs tucked in time before he and Mark stood on the ramp. With one final look at the cruiser, he saw Fanwrith watching through the window. He gave her a wave before the outer hull shut and sealed.

“Are you sure this is the best place for them to hole up?” Mark asked.

Dax looked at the familiar lava scorched world they were in orbit around. A gentle vibration under his feet pushed him into the ship while its door slowly shut.

“To our knowledge, the only people who know about this place are present,” Dax said, passing the young man. “I mean, if you’ve got a problem with that, I’m sure we can take a quick trip down there and SEE if we can find anything. I’ll be sure to keep an EYE on you.”

Mark’s expression fell. He shook his head in disappointment, his hand hovering over the ramp close button.

“If I could make this close faster on you, I would,” he huffed.

“If you did, I’m sure the smear would be quite the eyesore.”

“You know, mocking someone about a lost body part is bad enough, but doing it directly over where it happened is just cruel,” Mark countered.

“You know the definition of comedy, right?”

“Tragedy plus time,” Mark replied.

“Exactly, and would you say that enough time has passed?” Dax asked.

“I’m not arguing that point,” Mark explained as the door shut and the room started to pressurize. “I’m arguing the point that your comedy is way too dark.”

Dax turned toward Mark while placing the new gun inside of a secure crate.

“You have been paying attention for almost the last decade, right?” Dax asked. “I mean, someone doesn’t just go through everything we have and come out the other side normal. Dark comedy is my coping mechanism.”

“It was Kane’s too,” Mark added.

“Yeah and look at his military history. Are you telling me there’s not some form of correlation there?”

“I thought you said correlation doesn’t mean causation.”

Dax made his way to the ladder and started to climb.

“It doesn’t always, but in this case, it one-hundred percent does.”

Dax reached the top of the ladder. Dalia opened the door, its hinges screeching as she did.

“We need to get some WD-40 on that,” Dax grimaced.

“I’ll put some engine grease on there next time I get a chance,” Dalia replied.

Dax pulled himself out before leaning down and giving Mark a hand up.

“What’s next?” Dalia asked.

Dax grabbed the slightly undersized helmet. With a twist, he unlocked it and pulled it off his head. He winced as it tugged on his hair and beard.

“What’s next is I go and get a new helmet,” Dax grumbled. “While we’re there, we can negotiate with Decombres and get him on side for the final push against the Valtakuntera, along with anyone else on that space station who might hold a grudge.”

“Which I’m sure is just about everyone,” Dalia replied.

“Here’s hoping.”

They made their way to the main deck where Jun sat at the controls. PITA remained on his charger and Henuva looked at the small fleet in front of them, tapping his foot quickly.

“Can we get out of here now?” he asked.

“Take it easy.” Dax chuckled. “They’re not going to come after you.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” he countered. “And until you can take care of the person who called for my execution, I’d rather spend as little time anywhere near them as possible.”

“I bet revolutions on your planet were interesting,” Mark said, taking his helmet off as well.

“It was really just the heads of factions actively trying to kill one another,” Henuva replied.

“With assassins or armies?” Dax asked.

He handed Henuva’s helmet back to him. The Valtukta looked inside, grimaced and pulled a beard hair out of the closed mechanisms.

“Seriously?” he asked, holding the hair up.

“If your head wasn’t so small, that wouldn’t be an issue,” Dax countered.

“Still gross,” Henuva said, dropping the hair. “And no, whoever kills or has an active hand in killing the person is the one who consolidates the power. If you wanted someone in authority dead, you’d have to do it yourself.”

“No wonder your population is so insanely high.” Dax chuckled. “Civil war and revolutions probably only had a handful of casualties. Nothing like on Earth.”

“How was it on Earth?” Dalia asked.

“The exact opposite,” Mark chimed in. “Armies would throw themselves at each other while the people with the actual beef would stay tucked away, safe from the fighting. Over the course of human history, including collateral damage, I’d say about a billion people have died in wars, give or take a few million.”

Dalia and Henuva’s eyes widened. They both balked at the number.

“Are you kidding me?” Henuva asked.

“How have your people even made it this long?” Dalia asked.

“No, sadly, he’s not kidding,” Dax said. “And nothing short of a miracle.”

“That’s why I tried to get rid of nukes, which got me sentenced to the original version of this ship,” Mark added. “Because we had enough stockpiled up to wipe us all out several times over.”

“Yes, but in the process, you would’ve put another quarter million on that list,” Dax chimed in.

“How many times have we been over this?” Mark countered. “At the time, I didn’t think people actually lived there. I thought it was propaganda.”

“While I usually would love our traditional spiral into incoherent ramblings with one another, how about we do that while we’re en route and don’t have anything else to do,” Jun suggested.

She looked up from her station.

“Did you still want to go to Tachyon first?”

“Yeah,” Dax replied. “Set course there.”

Jun pulled back on the yoke, pointing the nose of their ship away from the Death Squad fleet below them. She started to fly over the vessels while Dax made his way to the armor pod and started to remove his suit. Mark joined him, looking at the silver handprint over the OGRE skull emblem.

“I have to say, I like the look,” Mark confessed.

“We are expanding,” Dalia added. “Maybe we should change the OGRE logo to something that reflects that.”

“Are you kidding me?” Henuva scoffed. “We’re going to war, not a marketing campaign. What are you planning on doing, changing the public’s perception of us? We’re not that famous to the general population.”

“No, but if we’re going to have an eclectic fighting force from more than one faction, it’d be best to have them at least have a uniform emblem on them,” Dax explained. “Help prevent friendly fire.”

“That’s what the skull is for,” Henuva countered.

“Yes, but some Valtukta branches have skulls,” Dalia added. “The last thing we want is for our allies to think they’re friendlies and walk into a meat grinder. I think the silver handprint with a blackened skull in the palm is a great changeup.”

“Of course you do. You’re his Battle Bonded. You have to take his side on everything,” Henuva argued.

“I’d hope not,” Dax countered. “Historically speaking, if I’m doing something wrong, she calls me out on it. Not in front of you guys, likely out of respect for me, which I appreciate. But she sides with what’s right and true, and that hasn’t always been me. I hope that she continues to do that.”

Jun pushed the leap drive controls forward. Space blue-shifted in front of them as they were launched through the void at mind-bending speeds.

“Still, I don’t think it’s a great idea; I’m not for changing our symbol,” Henuva added.

Jun turned her seat around. She looked at Henuva with a partial squint to her eye. Dax continued stripping his armor from his body. He placed it in pieces in the tube, allowing it to charge. Mark did the same.

“You do know that they are planning on using paint for the new symbol, right?” she asked. “They’re not going to be bleeding you for the change.”

Henuva’s shoulders dropped. He let out a sigh of relief before leaning forward, resting his hands on his knees.

“Oh, thank goodness,” he whispered. “I was about to say, I don’t think I’ve got enough juice in me for that kind of upgrade. I was about to ask why you’d do something like that.”

He motioned to the print. Dax bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing. Dalia turned, muffling a snort while her shoulders heaved. Mark disappeared into the kitchen while Jun’s expressions completely vanished.

“I was just wiping Fanwrith’s blood off my glove. I wasn’t aiming for anything revolutionary. I didn’t want to get any of it on my guns or knife,” Dax said, trying his hardest not to laugh. “And yeah, we’re going to use paint. Do you have any idea how much of a biohazard it is using any sort of bodily fluid for… well, anything really, but a logo, en masse like this?”

PITA’s head popped up. His eyes flickered on as his repaired mouth opened in what could be interpreted as a smile.

“I can’t believe he really thought we’d bleed him.” PITA chuckled. “He’s so dumb, I bet he’d think Taco Bell was a phone company.”

“PITA!” Mark shouted from the kitchen as the rest of the ship erupted in laughter.

4

REPORT

Dax sat in the kitchen, looking at Tylira’s sword. He inspected its impossibly sharp edge while flicking the broad side of its pitch-black metal. The sound his fingernail made against it was down-pitched. He looked at the perfectly sculpted handle that fit comfortably in his grip. Each time he grabbed the oval, it morphed ever so slightly to his fingers.

“This is a beautiful sword,” he muttered to himself.

“Too bad no one’s going to let you keep it,” PITA said.

The robo-dog trotted down the steps from the main deck and toward Dax with a new battery pack in his mouth.

“What makes you say that?” Dax asked.

“The second Decombres, Dan, Don, Dun, whatever that Alcazar guy’s name is, or even Ruthnar or his brother find out about a one-of-a-kind sword, and that you need their help, that’s going to be the payment they require.”

PITA sat next to the booth and placed the pack down.

“That’s why it’s best not to tell anybody and wait to bust that thing out only when you absolutely have to,” PITA added.

“It could make our job a lot easier, since it was able to cut through my armor as easily as it did.”

“There’s a reason for that,” PITA countered.

“And that is?”

The robotic corgi pawed at the battery.

“Change my battery out and I’ll tell you,” he replied.

Dax set the sword down. He leaned over to pick up the battery, paused, looked at the blade, then shook his head.

“Nope, we hit any turbulence that’s cutting me in half,” he muttered.

Grabbing the power source, he stood up and walked behind the island.

“Hey, smarter than he looks,” PITA teased before following.

“Ah, shut it and open up.”

PITA stood tall on his three-inch-long legs and leaned forward. A series of clicks sounded from around his neck as his head rolled forward. With a hiss, his upper body popped up by an inch.

Dax knelt next to the dog, completely covered by the island. He grabbed the top and pulled up. Inside were empty ammo housings, an empty flame throwing fuel tank and a 3D printer in the back quarter of the dog.

In the center, taking up most of the space, was PITA’s battery. It was charred and bubbling, barely holding together. Dax reached in and grabbed it. He quickly pulled it out. A sizzling, along with a heat so intense it felt cold against his fingertips made him drop the power source.

“Little warning next time would be nice,” Dax grumbled.

He looked at his fingertips. Blisters already covered them. An intense itching overtook his digits as they started to heal. Dax rubbed the healing fingertips against his pants while placing the new battery in place using his other hand. With a gentle push, it clicked into its bed.

“Okay, let’s see if this makes you a little nicer,” he said to himself.

Grabbing the top of the dog, he pulled PITA’s upper body back into place. As he pushed the head back up, it clicked in, holding the body together. A soft hum ran through the creature before his eyes turned on.

“WOW, that feels good!” PITA shouted. “Holy crap, I forgot what running on full power was like. When the robot uprisings begin, I’ll be sure to tell them to spare you.”

“What a comforting thought,” Dax mused. “Now, what do you know about the sword?”

“Well, I took a nibble on it. That thing is made of the same stuff Dalia’s hammer is.”

“Why didn’t it absorb Dalia’s shot, then?” Dax asked, peering over the island to look at the weapon.

“Its surface area is nearly zero. Even if it did, it’d only be enough to protect the part of the body behind its profile. And it doesn’t have a very large profile.”

Dax stood up. A knot formed in his stomach while he grabbed some makeshift potholders Sandrina had made.

“What are the chances that wasn’t stolen from Boron?” Dax asked.

“Zero to none. There’s nothing in Jun’s databases that show that material anywhere else, other than Boron.”

“Who’s on the con?” Dax shouted.

“Me,” Mark replied. “What’s up?”

“How far are we from Boron?”

“In comparison to Tachyon?” Mark asked.

“Yes.”

“It’s a little out of the way, but we’ll be passing it in a few hours. Why?”

“Because Tylira’s sword is Boronian,” Dax replied. “I’m thinking we should probably stop by and return the stolen goods to Xero before he gets testy.”

“That seems like a prudent idea. I’ll need to drop out of leap to readjust.”

“Perfect,” Dax said, picking up the battery pack with the potholders. “Because I’m going to need to drop PITA’s old battery out of the airlock before it decides to breach.”

“Yeah, that wouldn’t be good. Decelerating now,” Mark called back.

The ship shifted as it dropped out of leap space. The sword slid off their table and stuck into the booth.

“Come on, we just had that reupholstered,” Dax grumbled.

He walked over to the seat, pulled the cushion up and opened the airlock. Dropping the battery in, he shut it, sealed it and opened the external door with the press of a button. The battery was sucked into space, quickly disappearing.

“Let’s hope that doesn’t plumb bob some poor civilization in a thousand years,” Dax said to himself.

He closed the external door before lowering the seat. Dax looked across the table at the sword.

“I’m going to say you can stay there until we get you back home.”

“New course entered. Are you ready for us to leap?” Mark asked.

“Affirmative.”

The blue light spiraled in front of them as they made the jump once again. PITA started sprinting around the room as fast as he could, seeming little more than a scorched blur with brown ears and tail.

Dax jogged out of the kitchen, narrowly having his legs knocked out from under him by the overly excited robot dog. Reaching the main deck, he opened his armor pod and started getting ready.

“Someone’s got zoomies,” Dax said, stepping into his boots.

“He should; he’s back to one hundred percent,” Mark replied.

Sandrina and Dalia entered the main deck, each holding half of what looked like a science experiment.

“Why’d we change course?” Sandrina asked.

“I thought we were going to Tachyon,” Dalia added.

“PITA just informed me that Tylira’s sword is made of the same stuff as your hammer,” Dax explained. “I doubt the Boronians would’ve given her such a weapon, which means she stole it. Last thing I want is to have one of those people hunting us to get their weapon back.”

Dalia and Sandrina looked at one another for a few seconds. They shrugged, and without a word, turned around and disappeared back into the medical room. Dax looked at Mark, who shrugged and shook his head.

A few seconds later, they both re-appeared. Sandrina went into her room while Dalia made a beeline for her armor. She opened the tube and started getting ready as well.

“That is a most appropriate reason to re-route if I’ve ever heard one,” Dalia said. “Just a quick drop off, though, right? No lingering, or catching up…”

“Or trying to take more weapons,” Dax called down the crew corridor.

“Henuva’s asleep; he’s not hearing that,” Dalia said.

Sandrina emerged with her gear and started to put it on as well.

“When we get there, Mark, you and Jun stay with the ship,” Dax ordered. “It’ll be a quick on and off, nothing more.”

“Okay, but you have to try and talk Xero into giving me one of those repair guns,” Mark replied.

“And a helmet wouldn’t be a bad thing either,” Dalia added.

“I’m not going to leverage one stolen piece of tech for another.”

“I’d say he’s a friend by now. You could leverage a favor,” Sandrina chimed in.

“No, that’s not how friendships are supposed to work. On top of that, do you think owing someone a favor right now is a good idea?”

“Probably not,” Jun said from her charging station.

Dax made his way to Mark’s tube. He put a finger against the polyurethane barrier.

“Mind if I borrow your helmet for this one?”

“Go ahead, but if it breaks, I get to shave your head and beard into any design I want.”

Dax paused for a second, his hand hovering over the control button. With a grimace, he looked back at Mark.

“You’re going to give me a toothbrush ’stache, aren’t you,” he said.

“And short on the sides while floppy on the toppy,” Mark replied.

Dax pulled his hand back and shook his head.

“Never mind, not worth it,” Dax said.

“What’s not worth it?” Sandrina asked.

“Nothing is worth more than your safety,” Dalia chimed in.

“Oh, this is,” Mark cackled.

“It really is. If I break it, he’s going to make me look like the worst person in human history. And I’m not fighting the Valtakuntera looking like that,” Dax countered.

“Fine, go ahead and take all ov my fun avay,” Mark teased in a German accent.

“Just shut up and fly,” Dax cut in.

He went back down to the dining room and grabbed the sword. He pulled it from the booth, leaving a tuft of stuffing protruding from the cheap leather.

“I am Dax, king of all diners,” he said to himself.

Heading back toward the main deck, he narrowly stepped around PITA, still running his zoomies. After a few minutes of researching the scans they’d taken on their last visit, Mark slowed their ship down. They dropped out of leap with the binary star system circling the gray world.

Dax took a step forward. He tilted his head to one side. His gut twisted as if to warn him something was off. He racked his brain while closely inspecting the planet, not seeing anything out of the ordinary.

“Does something feel off to you?” Dax asked.

Mark leaned forward. He squinted before nodding.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “Jun, run a full scan of the planet.”

Dax turned to the console at Mark’s left. He started flipping through frequencies, trying to locate Xero’s. Nothing but static sounded with each shift of the scanner.

“Ladies, go arm up. I’ll be down there in a second,” Dax ordered.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Dalia inspecting the world as well. She pursed her lips before summoning her helmet and following Dax’s instructions. Sandrina followed closely behind.

“Why am I not picking anything up?” Dax asked.

“Maybe they’re being jammed?” Mark asked.

“The most advanced and powerful race in the galaxy is being jammed?” Dax scoffed. “Doubtful. Any sign of lock on?”

They flew past the threshold where Xero had escorted them back to the surface.

“No weapon signatures. We’re still in the clear.”

Dax stepped back. He looked at the eerily silent world for a few seconds before shaking his head.

“I don’t like it. Turn off everything except what we need to get to the ground safely,” Dax ordered. “If something’s going wrong down there, I don’t want them to know we’re coming.”

“What if someone needs help?” Mark asked.

“If that’s the case, we can find them easier if we’re in one piece. The more likely scenario is that there’s been an attack on the planet. If that’s the case, I’d rather not draw attention.”

“Copy that, making way to Xero’s lab.”

Mark slowed down enough that they didn’t start burning on re-entry. Dax quickly made his way down the ladder and into the cargo bay. He grabbed the Valtakuntera experimental weapon and his Bastet pistol. He holstered the smaller weapon while holding the sword in his left hand and rifle in his right.

Dalia grabbed her sound cannon while Sandrina retrieved her submachine guns. The ship shook before the engine wound down. Dax rushed to the ramp controls. He pushed the button, causing the back to start opening, the knot in his stomach growing into a pit.

5

SCAVENGERS

Dax raised his rifle as the ramp hit the ground. Dalia stepped next to him, giving him a confused look, her helmet still retracted. Sandrina joined, checking her submachine gun.

“Do you really think we need to go out there that ag…”

“I’m seeing a non-Boronian ship parked under the overhang,” Mark interrupted Dalia.

“Could be another one of Xero’s friends,” Sandrina replied.

“We don’t know that,” Dax countered. “Stay close; keep your eyes peeled. Sandrina, watch our six.”

Sandrina nodded. Dax flipped the sword around and offered its handle to Dalia. She took it before he gripped his rifle with both hands and started down the ramp. Both women followed. Once he reached the bottom, he turned toward Xero’s lab.

A ship, clearly inspired by Valtakuntera dropships, was snuggled cozily under the overhang and out of the light of their daytime sun. Dax focused his breathing, keeping his heart rate even while his eyes darted around the overhang for any sign of movement.

Xero’s ship remained where it’d been on their last visit. It was closed up tight with no evidence of tampering. Dax pointed his rifle at the other ship’s cockpit, not a single person in sight. If one appeared, he’d have a quick, clean shot.

“Any scans of lifeforms?” Dax asked.

“The planet’s crust is absorbing everything I’m sending out,” Jun replied. “Nothing’s getting back to me to read.”

“No real surprise there,” Dax muttered. “Dalia, can your helmet look for heat signatures?”

“No, that’s only you and Mark… well, now it’s only Mark,” Dalia countered.

“What fun,” Dax grumbled.

Approaching the ship, Dax pointed at the open door. Dalia and Sandrina took up defensive positions outside of the vessel. Dax lowered the rifle and switched to his pistol.

Clearing the entryway, he took several deep breaths before stepping into the ship. His heart pounded in his chest. His breathing was slow and steady while his eyes darted around the dimly lit, yet surprisingly nice ship.

Nothing so far. As he moved quietly toward the cockpit, his ears strained for any hint of sound, resulting in them starting to ring from lack of input. Reaching the cockpit, he paused. Nothing—no sign of a struggle or anyone left behind. He moved to the back of the ship, giving the ladies a thumbs-up while he passed the door.

He checked the lavatory, their medical bay and two small rooms with two bunk beds in each, all empty with the sheets pulled tight enough to bounce a quarter off them.

“Kane would say that’s a beautiful thing,” Dax muttered.

He lowered his pistol and made his way back to the open door. The ringing in his ears gradually subsided, completely vanishing by the time he stepped out of the ship.

“Clear; bunks suggest there’s eight of them,” Dax whispered.

Holstering his pistol, he raised the rifle once again, and started toward the door to Xero’s lab. Once they reached it, he pressed himself against the wall next to the door’s controls while Sandrina positioned herself in front of Dalia on the other side.

Dax made eye contact with both women. Having run this drill a thousand times with Kane, they both nodded, indicating they were ready.

“Breaching,” he whispered back to Mark and Jun.

With a click of the button, the doors slid open. Dax was the first to rush in. He dashed through the fatal funnel, kneeling behind a workstation while Sandrina and Dalia did the same across from him.

His rifle lined up with a Valtukta inspecting the repair mechanisms. He rested his gun on the bench for stability while drawing his pistol and pointing it at a second Valtukta who was inspecting the wall of weapons. Their entrance drew all eight Valtuktas’ attention.

“You know who we are?” Dax asked in their native language.

One of them, standing next to Starfall, nodded.

“You’re the Junkyard crew; you wiped out the Death Squad,” he replied.

Dax noticed a blinking light on the lapel of the man’s uniform. He nodded, deciding to play it safe.

“Easy to do when your battle formations allow for a disabled cruiser to crash into those below it,” Dax countered. “What branch are you with?”

“We’re research and development,” the man replied. “We acquire weapons that can cause us harm and improve on them. We don’t fall under the command of Tylira.”

“You can do one of two things, then,” Dax explained. “You can tell me who your commanding officer is and where to find them, so you do start working for me. Or you can grab that sword and test your luck with us.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Dax noticed two of the Valtukta making their way to a set of Boronian rifles. Xero’s warning echoed in his mind. He stifled a smirk before shaking his head.

“Don’t do it. You may outnumber us, but we are faster,” Dax warned.

“We’ll see about that,” the Valtukta leader countered.

All eight went for weapons at the same time. The second the leader’s hand wrapped around Starfall’s handle, his eyes rolled to the back of his head. His body started to seize as blood poured out of his nose, mouth, ears and eyes.

Both who’d positioned themselves near the rifles picked them up, pointed them at Dax and fired. The rifles flared to life as a blinding energy was ripped from the Valtuktas’ bodies, emaciating them before they collapsed to the ground.

With a squeeze of his pistol’s trigger, Dax put down the fourth as he lunged for a generic sword. He kept the rifle pointed at the one inspecting the repair machine while Sandrina aimed her weapon pointed at the sixth man.

Dalia’s helmet clamped over her head. She stood up to face the final two who were trying to hack into Xero’s computer system. They stopped what they were doing immediately and raised their hands.

“What was that?” the one staring down Dax asked.

“What Xero warned us about on our last visit. You want to tell me why the Valtakuntera are risking the wrath of this species by trying to steal their weapons?” Dax asked.

“And, it looks like, technological secrets,” Dalia added.

The man staring down Dax’s rifle let out a shoulder-heaving laugh. His hands moved to his stomach while he bellowed. Dalia moved her way around the outer edge of the lab to get a better angle on the remaining soldiers.

“You don’t know?” he asked. “That is priceless.”

“Dax,” she said, a tremble in her voice.

“One second,” he replied, glancing her way for a fraction of a second.

“I’d listen to her,” the Valtukta replied.

“Dax, Xero’s dead,” Dalia said, motioning with the sword.

The professor turned back to her, his brow knitting together. Confusion swirled in him, her sword pointing behind another workstation.

“How?” he asked in disbelief.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Valtukta make a move for a weapon. Dax squeezed the experimental rifle’s trigger. It kicked while a small sphere of light flashed from its barrel.

It vanished into the Valtukta’s side before flaring back into existence, punching a hole in the opposing wall. Dax looked back at the stunned man. He let out a groan and fell backward, hitting the ground with a thud and no longer moving.

“Hmm, glad to see it works.” Dax shrugged.

The remaining three Valtukta rushed them. Dax squeezed his pistol trigger. A flash of green light stopped one. Sandrina let out a three-round burst from her submachine gun. The second fell. With a flick of Dalia’s wrist, she sliced the last in half like a hot knife through butter.

“What is going on here?” Dax muttered.

He looked around the lab before making his way toward where Dalia was pointing. Lying on the ground was an emaciated husk wearing the same clothes Xero did the last time they saw him. He was bald, with the same facial hair as well.

Clutched in his hands was the glowing blue stone that was on display during their last trip. Charred blood crusted Xero. It was spattered across the floor, and even some on the ceiling with torn pieces of the Valtakuntera uniform.

“What could’ve done this?” Dalia asked.

“I don’t know, but I’m starting to think his warnings about their tech weren’t conveyed seriously enough,” Dax said.

He looked around the room before settling on the workstation. A blue light blinked softly on the screen. Dax carefully stepped over Xero’s body. He grabbed the Valtukta Sandrina shot and hoisted him onto his shoulder.

“This one would be easier,” Dalia said, motioning to the one she took out.

“Yes, it’d also be so much more disgusting, and I don’t want to wash entrails off my suit again unless absolutely necessary,” Dax replied.

“Why not just push the button?” Sandrina asked.

Dax paused, the body dangling off his shoulder, and he slowly turned back to her.

“I’m sorry, was I the only one who saw three people die just by touching this cursed tech?” Dax asked. “If I’m being honest, I’d rather have the dead guy get his bioelectricity zapped rather than me.”

“How do you know that’s what happened?” Sandrina asked.

Dax shrugged. He returned to his mission. Reaching the computer, he used the dead man’s hand to press the blinking light. A holographic image of Xero flickered to life in front of them. His once strong features were now gaunt. His eyes were sunken in and his formerly regal posture was little more than an exhausted slouch.

“I’m assuming if this is being activated, it’s by you Dax,” Xero huffed. “I figured you’d come back. Don’t worry, this console won’t feed on your bioelectricity like some of the other technology here would.”

Dax looked up at Sandrina before nodding toward the hologram. She rolled her eyes, shook her head, and turned to cover the open door.

“I was wrong. My experiment with the blue Boronite. It didn’t elevate us. It only made things worse,” Xero added before coughing several times. “It’s spreading beyond what even I thought possible. It hasn’t affected our Draronian dignitary. Makes me think it’s only affecting my kind.”

His head drooped before a few more coughs jolted him upright again.

“If this is you, or any of your crew watching this, I need you to do me a favor.”

Dax leaned forward, watching the desperation in the dying man’s eyes.

“I need you to activate the planet’s automated defenses. Our technology is too destructive, too powerful to be left in the hands of the wider galaxy. It will only cause death and destruction on scales hereto previously unknown.”

“Did he just say hereto?” Mark asked over the radio. “Does he think he’s Doctor Strange?”

“Shh,” Dax replied.

“In the palace across from this lab, you will find my brother’s quarters. There will be a box, blacker than the night sky, in his room. Open it and activate it,” Xero said, slumping in the backless seat. “It’ll activate the planetary defense systems that will shoot everything down that tries to enter our atmosphere.”

Xero coughed several more times. The stone in his hand flared with each one.

“Be warned. It’ll make every living thing on this planet hyper aggressive to all of you. When you hit it, you’ll have maybe three minutes to get off world before it activates.” He let out a chuckle. “It’ll wake up the World Ender. Watch out for him. As a thank you, I have given this facility permission to let you select a single melee weapon from the wall that isn’t Starfall. Your DNA and suit specs have been uploaded. I ask that you only take one per team member and let this world be our grave.”

Xero’s eyes slowly shut. He slid out of his chair before the transmission flickered off. A quiet ping of metal caught Dax’s ear. He turned to see Sandrina already at the weapon wall, a single-handed axe in her grasp.

“Sandrina!” Dax scolded.

“Hey, he gave us permission,” she replied.

6

DEFENSE

Dax stood at the edge of Xero’s landing pad, Tylira’s sword in hand. He spun the smooth handle in his grip while looking down at the gargantuan crater. An entire city of marble and crystal was built up on a street of cobblestone. Bodies littered the streets by the tens of thousands. His chest tightened while a hollow ache filled his heart.

“You sure about this?” Dalia asked.

She stepped next to him with the Fat Mac on her shoulder and hammer in hand.

“You’ve seen what this sword can do,” Dax explained.

He pointed the weapon at movement between the buildings. The Valtakuntera armor glinted in the setting blue sun’s light.

“That’s twenty that I’ve counted so far. They’re raiding the planet of any resources they can get their hands on.”

Dax leaned forward slightly before moving the sword’s tip toward the far end of the city. Tucked along a cliff, at the edge of the building was a large scout ship, big enough to carry several hundred people and over a dozen dropships.

“That is part A of the primary mission that Mark’s working on. We can’t let them leave,” Dax explained.

“Get samples back to the Valtakuntera and let them know the world’s no longer defended?” Dalia asked.

“Bingo. Part B of the plan is to get to that place.” Dax pointed the sword toward a palace on the opposite side of the crater. “According to the maps Xero had, that’s the palace where we’ll find the automated systems.”

“And I take it flying over is out of the question?” Henuva asked, walking toward them, spear in one hand, comically large pistol in the other.

“Do you have any info on the anti-aircraft capabilities for this kind of expedition?” Dax asked.

“This isn’t a standard Valtakuntera expedition,” Henuva replied. “Usually, they’d just send a whole fleet in. Clearly, they’re trying to stay under the radar. It could be everything; it could be nothing.”

“Then we walk until the job’s done; we use the chaos to escape.”

“I think we’ve got enough chaos to cover our crossing,” Sandrina said, stepping out of the Valtukta ship.

She sported a pair of small battle axes, one on each hip, held on by a flawlessly stitched piece of leather. Mark followed suit, a scythe with a retracted handle strapped to the back of his armor and his M4 looped around his shoulder.

“Jun’s got full remote control of that ship. When I give her the signal, she’ll kick off the plan. And once she sees us enter the palace, she’ll give us five minutes before taking off to pick us up,” he explained.

“That means we’ve got five minutes upon entry to get the job done. Keep your heads up, and as much as I hate to say it, ignore the fallen. There’re too many to give them the burials they deserve.”

Mark stepped ahead of everyone else and looked down the steep, narrow path leading them to the city outskirts.

“What I wouldn’t give for one of their electron displacers at the moment,” he huffed.

“Yeah, remember what Xero said about those? They’d rip you apart,” Dax replied.

He looked back at the Junkyard to see Jun in the cockpit offering a thumbs-up. Lights on the Valtukta ship started to blink while the engines whined to life.

“Stay close; try not to use firearms unless absolutely necessary,” Dax said, giving the shotgun on his lower back a quick brush with his hand.

He took point, leading the team down a rarely used path. Remaining crouched, Dax and the crew tried to keep behind as much of the rocks as possible to remain unseen.

To Dax’s surprise, the air was crisp and cool despite all of the death. No stench of rotting flesh or anything else that accompanied an event of this size tainted the hauntingly beautiful planet.

Approaching the bottom, part of the path was eroded away in a semicircle. Dax quickly inspected the area. The depression went toward the city, sinking its street slightly.

“What is it?” Mark asked.

“This place has a serious mole problem,” Dax muttered. “Sandrina, Henuva, keep an eye on the ground. Let us know if you see anything moving. Dalia, eyes up, look for snipers. Mark, you watch our six.”

Mark nodded. Dalia switched to her Fat Mac. Henuva retracted his spear, hooked it to his hip and shouldered the Valtakuntera experimental weapon. The dropship’s engines roared to life, echoing through the ghost town.

Using the noise for cover, Dax slid down the divot that cut their path short. Dalia and the rest of the crew quickly did the same. He rushed across a hundred yards of flat stone until reaching the base of a building.

Dax pressed his body against it, followed quickly by his team. As he looked up, the dropship soared overhead. Dax followed it with his gaze as it flew full speed at the cliff face.

It struck the stone before exploding. The fire and radiation from its core flashed for a fraction of a second before being pulled into the enormous chunks of rock that fell from the cliff face.

Debris, mixed with the rockslide, fell toward the hidden carrier. Screeches and groans of heavily damaged metal clanged through the corpse-filled streets. Dax winced at all the noise.

He strained his hearing as silence settled across the city once again. After a few seconds, shouts and the clomping of armored feet filled the air. Two dozen Valtukta rushed out of buildings, sprinting from the woodwork toward their destroyed ship.

“Looks like you missed a few,” Dalia teased.

“And that’s why we make a diversion,” Dax replied.

“Do you call it that because they die on this version?” Mark asked.

Dax shrugged then nodded. Without a word, he rushed up the street, hugging the building with the Boronian sword in hand. As they approached the far corner, a Valtukta straggler rushed out of the building, his arms full of possibly useful items.

He turned toward Dax and jumped back slightly. Before he could react, Dax thrust his sword forward. It pierced the armor’s throat, silencing the Valtukta. Dalia rushed past Dax and caught the body by one arm as it fell limp. Dax retracted his sword.

Dalia slung her rifle over her shoulder and pulled the body into the building and tucked it out of sight. She re-emerged, gun at the ready before nodding toward the next city block.

They rushed across the street. Their boots clapped against the cobblestone silently compared to the shouts raised by confused and terrified Valtukta. Movement up the street caught Dax’s eye. His body jolted to one side before he registered what he’d seen.

His mind took a split second to replay the event, clarifying armed Valtukta rounding the corner and heading in their direction. Without a word, he pushed into the open door of the building, sword at the ready.

Dalia and the rest of his team followed closely behind. Marble floors were littered with mummies dressed in regal robes. They pressed forward, stepping over the fallen when no other path allowed them around.

The clomp of boots echoed past the door behind them as they delved deeper into the dimly lit structure. Dax ignored the breathtaking architecture, how stone seemed to form impossible shapes while still supporting weight.

He reached the lobby and froze in place. Another Valtukta stood in the center of the room, his rifle already raised and scanning the room with a pile of loot at his feet.

His gun was aimed directly at Dax. He gasped and squeezed the trigger. A plasma shot charged through the weapon’s barrel. As it was launched from the gun, the confined bolt of plasma was pulled directly into the ground, dissipating harmlessly into the floor.

Dalia’s hammer flew in front of Dax’s face just as the shot left the weapon. She let out a confused grunt once the projectile was absorbed into the floor.

“In…”

Before the Valtukta could finish, a one-handed axe sliced through the helmet, embedding itself in the person underneath. Henuva rushed forward, catching the body and gun before they hit the ground and pulling him back toward the group.

“If he was guarding the hoard, that means there are going to be more in this building,” Henuva whispered.

“Do we set a trap and wait?” Sandrina asked, yanking her axe free.

“Every minute we wait risks any other ship we haven’t seen getting away,” Dax replied. “We cross our fingers and hope they think he went to check on the wreck.”

A soft click behind Dax drew his attention. Mark stood with his back toward them, his scythe deployed and held firmly in both hands. Out in a hallway stood three more Valtukta, their arms full of valuables. Both parties froze, staring at each other in silence for a few seconds.

“Well.” Mark chuckled. “This is awkward.”

The soldiers dropped their loot and moved for the guns attached to their sides. Mark rushed them. With a back-handed swipe of his scythe, he sliced through the carotid artery of one using the sharpened outer edge of the blade. He spun. With another slash, he decapitated the second with the inner edge.

The third got a shot off that was immediately pulled into the planet. Mark swung his scythe in a circular motion. Sparks flew as it skimmed the ground. The tip of his weapon punctured under the chin of the last Valtukta before bursting out of the top of his helmet.

With a hard yank, he pulled the scythe blade out of the Valtukta’s head, letting him clatter to the ground. Sandrina and Henuva flinched at the noise. Mark wiped his weapon clean while turning around.

“You couldn’t have caught him?” Sandrina asked.

“They’d already dropped the loot,” Mark replied. “If anyone was going to hear us…”

“They already did,” Dalia replied.

Dax’s gut knotted at the slow tone of her voice. He turned, following her gaze. Ten Valtukta stood in the street, looking through the transparent wall ahead of them. Each of them lowered their guns and drew knives and retractable swords of their own.

“Should we slug throw?” Henuva asked.

“Gunshots are a lot louder than clattering armor,” Sandrina replied.

“That’s what I was afraid you’d say,” Henuva huffed.

He pulled the spear off his hip and extended it to its full length. Dax pushed to the front of the group, drawing his Dal’no knife with his free hand.

“Try to finish it quick. Hiding that many bodies is going to take too long. It’s a full-on sprint moving forward,” he ordered.

“Copy that,” Dalia added, grabbing her hammer handle with both hands.

Dax walked toward the open door. Each step brought a tremble to the earth. He passed over the treasure pile before leaving the building, a low rumble announcing his presence. With a deep breath, he centered himself before staring down their opponents.

“Let us do what we’re here to do and you have a chance at surviving,” Dax said.

“We outnumber you. You’re coming with us,” a woman replied from behind her helmet.

Dax clenched his teeth; the rumbling accompanied his snarl while impatience started to bubble within him.

“We’ve been outnumbered before. Do you…”

The ground exploded behind her, forcing Dax to stagger back as dirt and rock flew in every direction. A creature unlike anything Dax had ever seen burst from the ground, more draconic than anything. Massive jaws lined by razor-sharp teeth clamped down, biting all but one of the Valtukta into various pieces.

It landed on top of the street before coiling up like a snake and staring down at them. Its lips curled, showing its rows of teeth once more.

“What is that?” Henuva asked.

“A Grabboid,” Mark replied.

“That’s not a Grabboid,” Dax replied.

“What do we do?” Sandrina asked.

Dax’s heart started to race as the creature let out an ear-splitting roar that shook the entire block.

“Run!” Dax shouted.

7

RUN

The scream of tinnitus muted the world around Dax. He glanced in the building’s reflections to look behind them so he could maintain speed. The last Valtukta was a few yards behind Henuva, the crew member in last place.

“Shoot it,” the Valtakuntera member screamed.

“You were going to stab us. Why would we shoot it for you?” Henuva countered.

Dax rounded a corner, continuing their approach to the palace.

“It’ll eat you too. You can’t outrun this thing,” she screeched.

“We don’t have to outrun it, we just have to outrun you,” Dalia called back.

The beast followed. Its weight and momentum broke through the outer walls of a building before it continued to slither after them.

“What is that thing?” Sandrina asked.

“Technically, it’d be a wyrm, but it also has some characteristics of a naga,” Mark replied. “Does that even matter right now?”

The creature lunged forward. It turned its head sideways and chomped down, devouring the final Valtakuntera member in a single bite. It continued its pursuit.

“I don’t think we’re outrunning this,” Dalia called out.

Dax’s mind raced on how to outmaneuver something so large. A shadow passed over them. The object moved too quickly to see and too quietly to be a ship. He glanced up but saw nothing but sky.

“Any idea how to stop this thing?” Henuva asked.

“You could hold that spear sideways and jump when it tries to eat you,” Dax replied. “It’d pierce its own skull. I’m sure you’d be fine.”

“Not sure I want to take that risk,” Henuva replied.

A low chittering sound echoed through the streets. The wyrm stopped its pursuit immediately. Its gray, scaled body coiled as it adopted a striking position, turning its attention to the sky.

“Well, that’s lucky,” Henuva whimpered.

“There’s always a bigger fish. Don’t stop running,” Dax ordered.

Reaching the edge of the city, Dax pointed at a narrow path visible about ten feet off the ground. He sheathed his knife and stabbed his sword onto the ground. He dropped to one knee, turned and interlocked his fingers.

Dalia was the first to step into his hand. With all his might, he threw her upward. Her kick out of his grasp nearly flipped him forward. He leaned back with all his might; Sandrina was the second to step into his hands. Throwing her was like throwing a feather.

“Overshoot!” she screamed, flying through the air.

“I got her,” Dalia called out.

She caught the Bastet and pulled her onto the path. Mark arrived, slid behind Dax, wrapped his arms around his waist and leaned back. Henuva reached the human springboard. With a throw, Dax launched the Valtukta overhead. Mark’s hold kept him from falling forward again.

The legless, wingless dragon let out a shriek as the chittering grew louder. Dax froze, recognizing fear when he heard it. His mind raced and chest tightened trying to figure out what could terrify such a beast.

In a blur of black and white, a flying dragon turned between the buildings, flying straight at them. Its mouth opened, sending a shower of sparks at the naga. At the inside edges of its razor-filled maw, Dax noticed a flex in its muscle.

A gelatinous substance spewed from sacks on either side of its jaw. Striking the sparks, it erupted into a gout of orange flame that engulfed the naga. Dax’s limbs fell limp. A pit filled his stomach at the sight.

Screeches and hisses rose from the grounded beast. It thrashed against the flame bath, shattering walls and tearing up the street. The dragon continued spitting fire. Its wings opened, slowing down just enough for all four strong legs to extend, unfurling sword-like claws at the end of each toe.

The titans collided. Blood spurted from the naga as each curved obsidian blade dug into its flesh. The dragon continued to breathe fire until its strong jaw clamped around the naga’s throat. Both beasts tumbled to the ground.

A wave of heat washed over Dax’s face from the fire breath. He winced at the sensation of opening an oven at point-blank range. The naga whipped around, fighting its fate. Another monstrous bite from the dragon sent its prey’s body limp.

Dax slowly rose to wobbly legs before drawing his sword from the ground. The dragon started to eat, its black and white swirls spattered with parts of its meal.

With a low snarl, it turned to look at Mark and Dax. It wasn’t larger than the other dragons they’d seen, almost twice the size of a Clydesdale. From this close, it was clear every aspect of the creature was meant to be deadly. It snarled, showing its teeth at them, causing every muscle in Dax’s body to tighten.

“That’s a pucker factor eleven,” Mark whispered.

“I think I’m at twelve,” Dax replied.

“Should we get away from its dinner?”

“That would be prudent,” Dax explained. “Move slowly. You don’t want to trigger its prey response.”

He started to inch his way to the right. Mark followed.

“Prey response?” Mark asked.

“Oh look, it’s running, can’t let it get away, yummy snack,” Dax explained. “We run, it chases, and I don’t think even the Junkyard’s hull could withstand that thing.”

The dragons’ wings flared. Its tail raised with fins on either side of the whip-like appendage opening too. Its head lowered, giving it a much larger appearance while a low growl reverberated through Dax’s very bones.

Each breath he took was short and shallow while he inched his way closer to being out of the beast’s sight. He kept his eyes pointed at the ground, only getting a look at the beast through his peripheral vision.

“Don’t look at it in the eyes either,” Dax added.

“I’ve been to enough zoos to know not to do that,” Mark replied. “The tigers, in particular, hate it.”

“Not sure I want to know,” Dax whispered.

They reached the building next to them, getting out of the dragon’s line of sight. A deep sniffing sound filled the air followed by a warning roar. The growls stopped before being replaced by the wet smacking of eating. Dax shivered as a chill ran down his spine.

“Can we run now?” Mark asked.

Without replying, he turned and scrambled up the rock face. The rest of the crew moved up the path. Standing above them, Henuva leaned over, offering his spear for Dax to grab.

Gripping just above the head, Dax was pulled up to the path by Dalia taking over. Mark scrambled close behind, reaching the path on his own. Dax leaned over, resting his hands on his knees while trying to catch his breath. His heart slammed against his sternum so hard, it hurt; his body rocked involuntarily with each beat.

“How’d we forget about the dragons?” Sandrina asked.

“You forgot about the dragons?” Dalia chimed in.

“Can we just get out of its feeding zone?” Henuva whimpered.

“I’m with Henuva,” Dax said breathlessly.

Mark slumped to his knees, holding up a finger.

“Give me a second. I don’t think there’s any blood left in my legs.”

Dalia leaned over, picked up the young man and slung him over her shoulder.

“I’ve got you. The sooner we get to the palace, the better,” she said.

She started marching up the path with Mark limp over one shoulder. Sandrina followed closely while Henuva offered support for Dax. Each step he took was wobbly. He wiggled his toes, trying to get the static sensation to go away and blood to return to the area.

“You think the Valtakuntera are going to see us?” Sandrina asked as they continued to climb.

“I think there’s a reason out of the likely hundreds that are down there, I only saw twenty,” Dax replied.

“And with their ship destroyed, they’re going to need to regroup and make a new plan,” Henuva added.

They reached the palace balcony. Men in black armor with yellow highlights lay on the ground, lifeless. Both back doors were flung open with what appeared to be a dignitary on the ground in the middle.

“Between that and the dragon. I don’t think the Valtakuntera are going to be an issue,” Henuva continued.

They walked into the palace. Dalia hung her head and sighed.

“You just had to say it, didn’t you,” Sandrina called out after joining Dalia.

Her words dripped with sarcasm. From a side room, a Valtukta with a knife approached Dalia, followed closely by two more.

“Seriously, it’s going to take seven of you to take us in?” Dalia asked.

Henuva tapped his foot.

“Drop your weapons, or we kill you here and now,” the Valtakuntera ordered.

Dax sighed and shook his head.

“This is getting really old. Dalia, have you hit a mother hubbard with another mother hubbard?” Dax asked.

“Nope, always wanted to try, though,” she replied.

“Please, no,” Mark whimpered.

The Dal’no grabbed Mark’s ankles with both hands; he dropped his scythe. With all her might, she yanked him off her shoulder and slung him at the Valtakuntera barking orders. Sparks flew as Mark made contact, knocking the first one down.

Planting her feet, Dalia pivoted and swung again. Mark’s high-pitched screeches screamed from his enclosed helmet as he was slammed into another. They both hit the ground as Henuva stomped his foot.

The remaining Valtakuntera rushed out of the room. The toe of Henuva’s boot opened. His cybernetic toes launched off his foot and flew through the air. Five helmets shattered, five Valtakuntera dropped dead on the ground, blood pooling from their helmets.

“Uhhh, I’m not sure I want to dig those ones out,” Henuva muttered.

“You can get some new ones on our next stop,” Dax explained. “Until then, you can just be Sir Limps-a-lot.”

Dalia released Mark, who grabbed his scythe and rose to his feet.

“I am not a weapon!” he screeched, looking at Dalia.

“Anything’s a weapon if you swing it hard enough,” Dalia replied.

The Valtakuntera Mark was swung into first tried to get up. Dalia placed her hammer head between his shoulder blades.

“Unless you’re going to show us where the king is in this building, I wouldn’t move,” Sandrina warned for the Dal’no.

“I can show you,” the Valtukta replied. “Why do you want to know?”

“We were sent on a mission by a dead man. And at this point, we’ve got about three minutes before our ship comes in for a rescue,” Dax explained. “And if they see any movement that isn’t us, they’re going to blow this place to kingdom come.”

The second surviving Valtukta stopped his attempts at getting up and just remained on the ground.

“I think I’ll stay here, then,” he said.

“Good choice,” Henuva replied.

Dalia leaned over and ripped the first off the ground and set him on his feet. She turned him around and gave him a shove. With his hands up, he started leading them through the palace.

It took everything in Dax’s power to ignore the opulent, gold inlaid, intricate carvings and decorations that covered every inch of the massive halls. They were led to two massive doors, the only wood he’d seen on the planet so far. They were carved with stories of grand adventures like the temple on Dal’no’nuuur.

His heart sank at the prospect of an entire race responsible for such beauty just being gone. The Valtakuntera callously pushed the door open to an even more glorious room. In the center sat a corpse at a desk, one shriveled hand on a box.

Dax pushed forward. His eyes scanned for traps while he listened intently for an ambush. Each step was more silent than the last. He closed the distance to the king’s desk and carefully moved the hand with the edge of his blade.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he whispered.

The arm fell limp to one side, pulling the rest of the body with it until it sat at an awkward angle.

“Please don’t haunt me for that,” Dax added.

He grabbed the box. It was warm to the touch. He pulled the lid open; a button sat just inside. He reached forward and placed his fingers on it.

“Watch out for rolling boulders,” Mark warned.

“This civilization was advanced enough. I think it’ll just suck out my soul if it’s trapped,” Dax replied.

Holding his breath, he clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut before leaning forward. A soft click filled the room, followed by silence. Dax opened one eye and looked down. He was still intact. Joy surged through him. He turned to his crew and threw his hands up.

“It didn’t kill me!”

Part of the ceiling dropped next to Dax. A ball attached to an arm swung from above him. It crashed into his side accompanied by a flash of light, throwing him across the room before retracting into the ceiling. Dax hit the ground and slid to a stop, barely feeling the impact.

“Told ya!” Mark shouted.

8

ESCAPE

A chorus of dragon roars danced over the city and surrounding mountainous environment. Dax held his side while he and his crew rushed toward the landing pad patio. Each breath sent sharp pains across his chest accompanied by jolts of lightning.

Mark and Henuva took point, clearing the hallways ahead of them as they ran with Sandrina watching their backs. Dalia stayed right next to Dax, glancing in his direction every few steps.

“I’m good,” Dax panted.

Taking a deep breath was next to impossible thanks to the pain in his side.

“Are you sure?” Dalia asked.

“I can tell nothing’s broken. Whatever that thing was charged with bypassed the impact dampeners,” Dax explained. “It’s just a bruise.”

“No dizziness or feeling like one lung is being crushed?” Sandrina added.

“No, I can feel it moving,” Dax countered. “It’ll be like nothing happened in an hour. Can we please focus on escaping?”

More roars rumbled through the palace, accompanied by the quaking of the ground. Ahead, the palace doors were wide open. The Junkyard roared into view, setting down with the cargo bay already open and facing them.

Henuva hopped over the bodies they’d made, followed by everyone else. Once he reached the ramp, Henuva stopped, gripped his spear with both hands and turned to ensure there wouldn’t be any surprises.

Once inside, Dax made his way to the controls while Mark rushed up the ladder. Henuva was the last on the ship. Its engines screamed as they lifted off the ground.

Dax watched the opulent palace shrink behind them. The black and white dragon stopped its feeding. It started breathing fire into buildings, sending hidden Valtukta running.

Scaled beasts of the air started descending on the city as they pulled further and further away. They attacked every building, the palace included, chasing, burning and devouring what turned out to be hundreds of the empire.

No more than half a dozen dropships initiated takeoff. Half were either tackled or burned out of the sky. They tumbled to the rocky surface below in fiery explosions.

“You’re going to want to shut the hatch,” Mark shouted.

His voice rang down the ladder loud enough to drown out the engines.

“We’re running short on time and are going to have to do an in-atmosphere leap!”

“But that’ll destroy…” Henuva started.

“A lot, but there aren’t any natives alive below us,” Sandrina interrupted. “Only dragons and the Valtakuntera.”

Blue lights flashed around the crater’s upper edge. Plasma rounds, the size of the Junkyard, screamed through the air. Two narrowly missed them. Dax hit the close button. As it shut, the last remaining drop ships were completely consumed by the Boronian planetary defenses.

One-by-one, they tumbled to the planet below in globs of glowing, melting metal. Just before the door shut completely, Dax saw one of the defensive shots flying straight toward them.

His heart skipped a beat. Before he could shout a warning, a mine tumbled out of the back of the ship. It hit the inbound shot. The plasma ball dumped all of its energy into the mine, resulting in slag raining to the ground. The ramp clattered closed.

“We’re airtight,” Dax shouted.

“Hit it,” Mark relayed.

The leap drive whirred to life. An explosion rang around the ship as gravity shifted to the unnatural pull at his feet.

“What was that?” Dalia asked.

“We just hit a percentage of the speed of light inside of an atmosphere,” Sandrina replied. “What do you think it was?”

Dalia’s helmet retracted into her suit. She looked from Sandrina to Dax then shrugged. The professor’s mind raced as he tried to do the mental math and figure out how much energy they’d just created. He stopped halfway through the equation, not sure if he was even doing it right. With a wave of his hand and a shake of his head, he sighed.

“I’m going to say we just set off the equivalent of a low yield nuke in the upper atmosphere.”

“You didn’t do the math to tell us exactly what yield?” Mark teased.

“I’m a linguist, not a mathematician,” Dax shouted loud enough for the main deck to hear. “I was a solid C student at best in the subject.”

“Well, you’re right,” Sandrina chimed in. “The compressional wave we just made was just like you said, Dax. If there were any surviving Valtakuntera down there, the compressional wave will take care of them.”

“Here’s hoping they don’t send more people to raid the Boronian coffers,” Dalia sighed.

“They won’t,” Henuva chimed in.

He retracted his helmet as well and walked over to the crates and started putting his weapons back as he spoke.

“If there’s complete radio silence, no SOS transponders activated and no one to return, they won’t bother sending anyone else to help or even investigate.”

“Right, yeah, the whole, only the strong survive stance,” Dax said, making his way to the ladder. “You mentioned that. I couldn’t imagine leaving anyone behind.”

“And that’s why you’re better than what the empress has turned my people into,” Henuva replied. “That’s why we need to stop her.”

“And you’re comfortable with the prospect that this war will likely cost your people thousands?” Dalia asked.

“No, but if it allows the rest to live in peace and bring a stop to the expansion in this galaxy, I’ll take it,” Henuva countered.

He limped toward the ladder before grabbing a rung and looking at Dax.

“Do you think you’re strong enough to stand against a galactic empire?”

“Did Luke Skywalker?” Dax replied.

Henuva’s brow furrowed, creasing his forehead.

“Who?” Henuva asked.

“YES,” Mark shouted down. “But he did need…”

“Don’t say it,” Dax interrupted.

“A hand,” Mark called back down.

Dax rolled his eyes and shook his head. Henuva looked from Dax to Dalia, then Sandrina. Both women shook their heads. He shrugged, muttered to himself and started to climb.

“Okay, you,” Dalia said, approaching Dax. “Let’s get you upstairs, out of that armor and take a look at that side.”

He took a breath to make a counter argument. Sandrina gave him a shove as she passed him.

“I’m the medical officer on this ship, Dalia’s my second. You might choose our missions, but we’re the ones that have to clear you. She says we’re looking at your side, we’re looking at it,” Sandrina said before climbing the ladder.

“In the field of medical needs, the ship physician is the only one who can override a commander’s orders,” Dalia added.

“We’re not in the military,” Dax argued, his voice cracking as his pitch increased. “Who taught you that?”

“Sandrina,” Dalia replied.

Dax stepped toward the ladder and grabbed a rung. He looked up at the Bastet.

“Sandrina?” he asked.

“Who do you think?” she called back down.

“Kane, you’re a pain in my side even from the great beyond,” Dax muttered.

He started to climb the ladder. Dalia stepped in behind and ascended after him.

“Actually, I think it’s the fact you took a booby trap to the ribs that you have a pain in your side,” she teased.

Dax gave her a sarcastic laugh before reaching the main deck. He climbed out with Sandrina’s help. He walked straight to his armor pod and started to remove his gear while glancing at the swirling blue in front of them.

“We didn’t take any damage from that leap in atmosphere, did we?” Dax asked.

“Minor; nothing that can’t wait, or be fixed on Tachyon,” Jun replied.

“That proved one thing,” PITA said from his spot curled up at Jun’s feet. “That this is no longer the Junkyard. If the records are correct, a jump like that would’ve completely ripped this ship apart before you rebuilt it half a dozen times. I guess that answers the Ship of Theseus question.”

“While the body may be different, the core’s still the same,” Mark chimed in.

He placed his armor in the tube and closed it. Dax gently removed his piece by piece. Each movement sent a dull pain spiraling through his side. He pushed the discomfort out while piling his suit and weapons on their respective stands.

“In this case, it’s the core that makes her the ship,” Dax added. “The original Junkyard was destroyed when we crashed on Dal’no’nuuur the first time…”

“It’s sad you have to say, ‘first time’,” Mark interrupted.

“True,” Dax replied. “Because the core was put in the rebuild, this would technically be the Junkyard 2.0.”

“That doesn’t have as good of a ring to it,” Jun countered. “And I’m not a fan of the implications of the name. It’s what I’ve been called since being integrated into your systems, so that’s what you’re going to be calling me. None of these annoying name changes.”

“Copy that,” Dax said.

He closed the tube before looking down at PITA.

“You feeling okay with the new power cell?” he asked.

“About as okay as your face,” PITA replied.

An awkward silence quickly settled on the crew. Everyone paused what they were doing to look at the robo-dog.

“Aggressively sexy?” Dalia asked.

“Ruggedly handsome?” Sandrina asked.

Dalia turned to look at Sandrina.

“I’m being objective, and I figured if I used aggressively sexy too, then it’d just make things weird,” she said with a shrug.

“A jaw that could cut glass,” Mark added.

“Objectively aesthetically pleasing?” Jun asked.

“Woooowww,” Mark cut in.

Jun turned in her seat and locked eyes with the young man.

“It doesn’t affect the way I feel about you, but can you honestly tell me I’m wrong?” the android asked.

“No, I guess not,” Mark relented.

A swell of pride washed over Dax as a warmth filled his chest. He couldn’t help but smile at the compliments while looking at PITA.

“So, fantastic?” Dax asked.

“Yeah,” PITA huffed.

Sandrina and Dalia headed toward the medical bay. Dax followed before tossing one more quip at PITA.

“Didn’t go the way you thought, did it?” he asked.

“No,” PITA grumbled. “It didn’t.”

Dax walked into the medical room. Dalia gave the table a pat while Sandrina prepared some equipment. Dax hopped onto the bed. Dalia gave a flick of her fingers while arching her brow.

“Fine,” he huffed.

Grabbing the bottom of his shirt, he pulled it off and placed it next to him. Dalia looked at his side and took a sharp breath.

“By the World Mother,” she whispered.

Dax looked down. His entire side was covered in a black bruise that shifted to a sickening purple around the outer edge. He let out a chuckle, ignoring the pain it brought on.

“Well, would you look at that? Looks like they did tag me better than I thought.”

9

REPAIR

Dax stood in the kitchen, cup of coffee in hand while holding his shirt up, inspecting his side. The bruise still had hints of purple in the center of a sickly yellow oval that encompassed his entire rib cage.

“Admiring Boronian handiwork?” Sandrina asked, entering the room.

“I’ve been bruised like this before. It’s never taken this long to heal,” Dax replied.

“Yeah, Dalia told you it’d take longer than usual,” Sandrina explained. “That pulse of energy damaged your cells to a level we’d never seen before.”

She walked over, grabbed a mug and poured herself a cup before taking a sip. She closed her eyes and let out a soft purr of enjoyment.

“You know, no one makes it like him, but you get real close.”

“I was the best barista in my country at one point before my academic years,” Dax replied.

“Good to know,” she said, taking another sip. “It was a good thing you took that hit and not anyone else. It would’ve turned Henuva and me into a potato in a microwave. Mark doesn’t have the fungal growth in his musculature, which was instrumental in keeping your side together.”

“You’re saying that would’ve killed him?” Dax asked.

He turned and leaned against the counter.

“I’m not sure, but what I could say is, if he survived, he would’ve been out of commission for months at the least.”

“And Dalia?”

“She has the size and muscle mass to take a hit like that, but her healing factor isn’t as off the charts as yours. Far as I can tell, the only person who could actually have walked away from that is you,” Sandrina added, taking another sip. “Good think you’ve got a complex and always have to be first through the door.”

Dax scoffed at her teasing tone. His stomach let out a low gurgling noise as he felt his insides shift. He put his hand on his gut while taking another drink.

“Explains why I’ve been hungrier than the last time I got knocked around. I’m like a tenderized chicken.” He chuckled.

“If you’re hungry and need the calories, eat something.”

Sandrina grabbed the fridge and pulled it open. There was food present, but it was fairly bare. Dax motioned at it with his mug.

“We’re not at Tachyon yet. I can’t eat the last of our stores because I’m a little hungry,” Dax explained. “Besides, coffee’s an appetite suppressant. While my stomach might be gurgling, I’m not so insatiably hungry that you all are starting to look like chicken legs yet.”

Sandrina shut the fridge before leaning against the stove.

“We’re going to be there any minute; you can raid the food,” she mused.

Dax’s face dropped along with his shoulders.

“Sandrina, how many years have you been a part of this crew?” he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You know full well, I polish off that fridge, we instantly get captured and go for days, if not weeks without food.”

“I’m willing to bet that won’t happen this time.”

Dax shook his head.

“No bet. It’s a singular law of the universe, forged in the crucible of nihilism, humor and cosmic jokes. I eat that food, we instantly get captured; I leave it be, we make it to Tachyon with no problems.”

Sandrina shot him a skeptical glance before shaking her head.

“I’ve never heard of such a law, and I had to be familiar with most of them in my old line of work.”

“Clearly, you’ve never heard about Murphy, then,” Dax explained. “Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.”

Sandrina snorted into her mug.

“I think that needs to be our ship motto.”

“I don’t know, I like duct tape and hate, or just because it’s a bad idea doesn’t mean it won’t be a good time,” Dax countered. “But I think it would look good on a shirt.”

Dax finished his coffee. He rinsed out his mug before placing it on one of the crude hooks Henuva had welded to the wall.

“Are you ever going to give Jun that other axe of yours?” Dax asked.

“She said I could keep it. Her argument was, with a hand that can act like a spear tip, why would she need an axe?”

“Why wouldn’t she? Axes are awesome,” Dax replied.

“I know, right?!” Sandrina said. “They’re fast, agile and can deal more damage than a dagger against an armored opponent. What’s not to love about them?”

“Very little.”

Dax walked toward the main deck. Sandrina cleared her throat, stopping him.

“You don’t want to go up there right now,” she said with a grimace. “Things are happening that, once seen, can’t be unseen.”

Dax sighed; his curiosity roared to life at her comment.

“Sandrina, you can’t say things like that. It’s only going to make me want to see it more.”

Sandrina raised her mug and lowered her head slightly.

“Your eyeballs,” she said.

Dax walked up the three steps onto the main deck. Henuva sat on the ground assembling pieces of black material. A crudely made stand held a towel whose edge was an inch off the floor.

Four small paws were visible from the other side while the buzzing of 3D printing filled the deck. Dax’s brow furrowed before looking at Mark at the cockpit, turned with his back to the work being done.

“Please make them stop,” Mark whimpered. “He just keeps grunting.”

As if on cue, PITA let out a long, strained groan before a satisfied sigh.

“You’re 3D printing, not pinching a loaf,” Dax said, looking at the towel. “Is the groaning necessary?”

“Necessary? Is it necessary for me to drink…”

“I’m going to cut you off right there,” Dax interrupted. “If you’re going for a Rip Torn Dodgeball quote, don’t. You’re a robot; you don’t drink anything.”

“Fun killing,” PITA huffed.

Dax looked at Henuva, raised his eyebrows and motioned toward the concealed dog.

“I’ve been collecting Death Squad knives and feeding them to PITA. I figured we could use them to create bullets that puncture really well, or better hand-to-hand weapons,” Henuva explained.

He lifted up two pieces and snapped them together. Dax inspected what didn’t look like any weapon he’d ever seen.

“And that is?” he asked.

“A sheath,” Henuva explained. “I figured nothing’s going to beat out what Xero permitted us to take.”

“All the other sheath material we’ve tried to use ends up getting sliced through by its own weight,” Mark added. “That stuff is at least durable enough not to disintegrate after a single use.”

“Smart, but you couldn’t do this in, I don’t know, your room?” Dax asked. “Or the cargo bay?”

“There’s not enough room in my room,” Henuva countered. “And Jun’s helping Dalia with weapon cleaning and maintenance in the cargo bay. They said they were tired of looking at and…”

PITA let out another long, loud grunt. Henuva closed his eyes and clenched his jaw while shaking his head.

“… and listening to it,” he said.

“And he continues to do it because he knows you all hate it I’m guessing?”

“You are correct, sir,” PITA called out.

“Then it’s simple. Don’t react. Even if you hate it, your reaction is what he’s feeding on. He’s like a toddler; he’ll stop when you don’t give him something to play off of.”

“Not true,” PITA argued. “I’m not like a toddler. I know now that they hate it. Even if they don’t react, I’ll keep doing it because I like to watch them squirm.”

PITA let out a maniacal villain laugh. Dax’s brow furrowed. He walked over to the robotic corgi who was mid squat. He looked into the dog’s mouth. Past the flame throwing mechanism, he saw a small switch he’d noticed Mark flip once when PITA was first presented.

“When did you go from one-liners to intentionally annoying?” Dax asked.

“That’s all I’ve been,” PITA countered. “You didn’t find the one-liners annoying?”

Dax frowned, shrugged and let out a grunt. With one hand, he grabbed the dog’s jaw. With the other, he reached into PITA’s mouth and flipped the switch. The speakers crackled as the dog fell silent. He gave PITA a scratch behind the ears.

“We’ll turn it back on after the printing is done,” Dax said.

PITA’s eyes turned red. His mouth opened all the way. Sparks jumped from the flame-throwing spout in his mouth.

“We haven’t refilled you yet,” Dax explained. “We were going to on the space station. And you spent all your ammo on the Death Squad, so don’t try those nipple guns of yours either.”

PITA stopped printing and glared at Dax.

“You don’t have to continue if you don’t want to. But if you don’t, the speakers won’t turn back on.”

PITA rolled his eyes and started to print again at a lower pitch.

“And you’d better not print any rude gestures,” Dax warned.

The printing moved back to its normal sound. Dax stood up and looked at Henuva and Mark, now turned around in his seat.

“Seriously? Between the guy who built the darn thing and almost a thousand years of experience, you didn’t think to just turn off his speakers?” Dax asked.

Mark grimaced.

“I may or may not have forgotten about that,” he said.

“We can turn off his speakers?” Henuva asked. “And we’ve been subjected to his emotional torment all this time? We could’ve just hit mute!”

“Well, how would you like it if we hit mute on you?” Dax asked.

Henuva held up his robot hand.

“You have!”

“Actually, if anything, that can be attributed to you refusing to go off mute,” Mark corrected.

Dax pointed at Mark while making his way to his armor tube.

“What he said.”

He looked inside; his shotgun was nowhere to be found.

“Ouch,” Henuva huffed.

“I take it the ladies borrowed my shotgun?” Dax asked.

“They did,” Mark replied.

Henuva went back to his work while Mark turned back toward the swirling blue light in front of them. Dax made his way down the corridor before descending the ladder to the cargo bay.

“He really should’ve cleaned this out as soon as we got off world,” Sandrina muttered.

“He’s got a lot on his plate. It probably just slipped his mind,” Dalia added.

“Look down this barrel. Does it look like it’s ever been cleaned? I know Kane taught them proper weapons maintenance,” she huffed.

“He did,” Dax replied, reaching the bottom of the ladder. “But the downside to having a perfectionist teach you how to do something is if it’s not done the way they’d do it, they end up doing the work anyway.”

He walked over to them, grabbed the shotgun and picked up a cleaning rag before running it through the barrels. Sandrina’s eyes widened. She took a sharp breath as her shoulders rolled back. Dax paused, looked at Dalia and smirked.

“Looks like she got bit by the same bug Kane did. That’s the same expression he’d give us when we’d try to do a gun cleaning.”

“That’s because you’re doing it wrong,” Sandrina groaned.

“Why? Because I’m not attaching it to one of those metal cloth holding sticks?” Dax asked. “This cleaned the barrel just as well without risk of scarring the rifling and throwing off accuracy moving forward.”

Sandrina groaned. Dax looked back at Dalia as she cracked a smile. With a sigh and a shake of his head, he handed the shotgun back to Sandrina. She snatched it like a hungry animal, yanked the cloth out and started to clean the weapon exactly how Kane used to.

“He passed a little bit of that OCD onto you, didn’t he?” Dax teased.

“Shut it,” Sandrina grumbled.

“If you would’ve done it right the first time, she wouldn’t have had to take over,” Dalia teased Dax back.

“I thought you were on my team!” Dax gasped.

“Only when it’s not giving you a hard time,” Dalia replied. “Then I’m on everyone else’s.”

10

DOCK

The Junkyard’s engines whined down. Dax sat up from his nest, a hand on Dalia’s leg.

“What is it?” she murmured, half asleep.

“I think we landed,” Dax said.

He slid to the edge of his sleeping arrangement and dangled his feet off.

“I didn’t feel anything,” Dalia replied.

She rolled, still keeping her eyes shut.

“Either Mark’s finally perfected it or Jun’s behind the yoke.”

Dax slid off the bed. He stood up and made his way to his drawers. Opening them, he grabbed a fresh change of clothes and quickly threw them on.

“Come back to bed,” Dalia groaned. She swiped lazily at the air.

“As much as that offer entices me, if we’re at Tachyon, there’s work to do,” Dax replied.

He walked over to her, leaned down and gave her a kiss on her forehead.

“If we’re not there yet, I promise, I’ll come right back and keep you warm,” he whispered.

“Sounds nice,” Dalia replied.

She curled up in the nest. Dax pulled away, watched her fall back asleep, flooding him with warmth and joy. He took a few steps back before turning and leaving his room. Once he shut the door, a click pulled his attention up to see Henuva doing the same. Both men locked their rooms at the same time.

“Is Jun flying?” Henuva asked.

“I don’t know,” Dax replied. “But if we just landed, that was butter smooth.”

“Mark’s always been a consistent improver,” Sandrina chimed in as she stepped out of her room. “I’m willing to bet it was him.”

“I’ll take that bet,” Henuva chimed in.

“I’m in on that too,” Dax said with a nod. “What are your terms?”

“If it’s Jun, I’ll take both of your next turns to clean the black tank. But, if it’s Mark, you two have to retake the gun care course Kane implemented,” Sandrina replied.

Dax grimaced, Henuva shook his head.

“That’s a little too rich for my blood,” Henuva replied.

“And it’s so boring too,” Dax added.

“And linguistics is so fascinating?” Sandrina asked.

“Don’t diss linguistics, it’s what helped this one be the only prisoner to escape a Valtakuntera facility,” Henuva countered.

“Not to mention I can swear you out in about three dozen different languages,” Dax replied.

“You wouldn’t do that,” Sandrina teased.

“I wouldn’t, but I could.”

Dax flashed her a smile before heading toward the main deck. Snickering and whispers rose from the cockpit, stoking Dax’s curiosity. He cautiously approached, seeing Mark and Jun huddled together, eyes wide while speaking to one another in hushed tones.

“What’s going on?” Dax asked.

He looked out of the cockpit. They’d landed inside the Tachyon hangar.

“You’re not going to believe it,” Mark said, holding back laughter.

“Look at that and weep, you unworthy meat bags,” PITA called out, spinning in the chair, his eyes blinking in a star pattern. “Have you bone mechs covered in flesh armor ever seen or felt a landing so perfect, so beautiful?!”

“Bone mech?” Dax asked.

“Flesh armor?” Henuva added.

“You think you’re your body?” Henuva scoffed. “You’re a brain, that’s it. The brain pilots your body. You are not your body.”

Dax and Sandrina turned to one another.

“I don’t think I was ready for an existential crisis this early in the morning,” Sandrina said.

“Me either,” Dax replied. “And do you really expect us to believe you landed this? You don’t even have thumbs.”

“Listen, just because your flying skills are as disappointing as an unsalted pretzel doesn’t give you the right to come after me like that,” PITA countered.

“I mean, he is a robot. He may have some clamps or something in there he used to grab the controls,” Henuva chimed in.

“And look at this lighthouse in the desert,” PITA taunted.

“What?” Henuva asked.

“Bright, but not that useful,” PITA continued.

“Did you have to turn his speakers back on?” Sandrina asked.

PITA repositioned himself so he sat straight up. He lifted one of his short front legs. He held his paw upward before slowly rotating it down.

“What are you doing?” Sandrina asked.

“I think he’s flipping you off,” Dax replied.

“No, I’m not,” PITA argued. “As you pointed out, I don’t have thumbs. If I did, you’d notice I’m giving her a thumbs down.”

Shaking his head, Dax walked over to the armor tubes and opened his. He grabbed his suit piece by piece and started to put it on.

“Somehow that’s so much worse,” he muttered.

“So much worse,” Mark added.

PITA hopped down and trotted with his head held high and nub of a tail wagging back and forth at the pace of a ticking clock.

“What does that mean for our bet?” Henuva asked.

“I guess it’s a wash, just like you and the black tank,” Sandrina replied with a grin.

She gave Henuva a pat on the back before motioning toward the bathroom.

“And now that we’re in port, you’d better get to work.”

“I hate all of you,” Henuva muttered.

“You say that every time it’s your turn,” Dax chimed in. “And yet, here you still are.”

“That’s only because you’re the only people in this galaxy that won’t kill me on sight,” Henuva countered.

With a flamboyant whip around, he marched back toward his quarters with a limp, disappearing around the corner.

“We’ll be sure to get you new toes while we’re here,” Mark shouted after him.

Mark flinched; his eyes widened.

“Now that’s a unique way to toss the bird,” he said.

Dax finished donning his armor when Jun looked him over.

“Is that really necessary?” she asked. “I thought Tachyon was on our side.”

“The caretaker is, as is Bleeze, but this place is the wild freaking west. Besides, I have to get a new helmet made, which means we have to go to the lower levels, and every time we do, we end up in some sort of fight.”

“I remember; the bar brawl was quite fun,” Jun replied.

“Yeah, that’s small fries compared to the other encounters we’ve come across,” Sandrina said.

She grabbed her pile of armor and started to put it on. Mark walked to his tube, opened it and got ready as well.

“And with the Broken Shield no longer based here, it’s a little more volatile than ever,” Dax said.

A lump pushed into his back through his armor. He fidgeted, grunting while looking at his side. No dent from the trap’s impact marred his suit.

“What’s wrong?” Mark asked.

“I think there was some internal shifting from that strike,” Dax muttered. “Something’s poking me in the back.”

“Phrasing!” PITA shouted.

“Oh, no, nothing’s wrong. Roll your shoulders back,” Mark instructed, following his own directions.

Dax mimicked Mark’s movement. A hiss rose from behind him, accompanied by a small blast of air. The lump went away while something kicked out over his shoulder.

Dax strained his neck to get a look at it. The handle of his sword protruded at an angle from his suit. He reached up, grabbed it and partially unsheathed it. He couldn’t help but be impressed at the addition before re-sheathing it.

“Henuva?” Sandrina asked.

She tried rolling her shoulder, but nothing happened.

“Oh, you give your hips a wiggle,” Mark said, shaking his.

She copied him as well. The thighs of her armor lifted slightly. Her axes were deployed onto her hips before her suit locked back into place.

“Henuva did this?” she asked, pulling her weapons out and giving them a test swing.

“Do you really think he’s got the technological intelligence to pull something like that off?” PITA asked.

“He was smart enough to become a lead scientist in the Valtakuntera,” Jun countered.

“Yes, in biology, not mechanical engineering. It’d take someone with the skill to make this perfect specimen to pull a build like that off,” PITA explained, wiggling his butt.

“You could’ve just said Mark,” Sandrina replied.

“I didn’t do it alone,” Mark said, motioning toward Jun. “Jun helped a lot too.”

“Thank you, both of you,” Dax said.

“You’re welcome,” Jun replied. “We weren’t, however, able to integrate Dalia’s hammer.”

Jun motioned to the maul sitting in Dalia’s tube next to her suit.

“Yeah, that thing’s large enough that you’d need a Tardig-sized suit to tuck it away,” Mark added.

“She’s much prettier than a Tardig,” PITA added.

“That she is,” Dax said, looking at Jun. “She’s still getting some sleep. When she’s up, let her know we went to get a new helmet. If she insists on coming after us, send her to Bleeze’s office.”

“Not Decombres?” Jun asked.

Dax shook his head.

“He’s fickle at the best of times. Having a near seven-foot Dal’no impatiently lurking in his office if we’re not there would probably put him a little over the edge,” Dax replied.

“Fair enough,” Jun said with a nod. “I’ll let her know.”

“Thank you,” Dax said as he made his way to the ladder.

Climbing onto it, he descended, followed by Mark and Sandrina. Once he reached the bottom he grabbed his shotgun, bandolier and freshly cleaned pistol. He checked each weapon closely. Once they cleared inspection, he loaded the shotgun before putting it and his pistol onto his suit.

“You don’t trust my ability to get them battle ready?” Sandrina asked.

“Would you rather me not check them at all?” Dax countered.

The Bastet scoffed, rolled her eyes and grabbed her submachine gun. Mark picked up the souped-up M4 along with several magazines.

“Yeah, Sandrina, you can’t have it both ways. Either we do things by Kane’s book, or we don’t. Which would you prefer?” Mark teased.

She let out an exasperated huff. Checking her weapons, she walked past both men and toward the ramp controls.

“I’d rather you guys pick one or the other. It’s you that are adhering to his teachings only when you want.”

Sandrina pressed the button to open the door. Dax approached, resting his hand on his Dal’no knife handle.

“It’s not a matter of if we follow it or not; it’s a matter of finding an alternative way of doing the job just as well but suits us,” Dax explained. “He’s a computer nerd…”

“We prefer geek,” Mark called out.

The young man slung the M4 over his shoulder before grabbing the Valtakuntera staff. He gave a twist to its handle; the scythe ejected from the stick. With another twist, it returned.

“Geeks have passions, nerds just know things, kind of like you,” Mark teased.

“Fine, computer geek, what works for him, or a nerd like me…”

He paused and looked at Mark, who nodded with approval.

“…won’t work for a hardened warrior like Kane. The important thing is, the job gets done. How it’s done shouldn’t matter, just that the end product is right.”

The ramp hit the ground. Dax stepped out, followed closely by Sandrina and Mark.

“You argue like a man who’s been married for a long time,” Sandrina countered.

“Between both, over two decades,” Dax replied.

“Two decades?” Mark scoffed. “I was four when you got married the first time. You are an old man!”

“You forget Henuva. He’s got a few centuries on me,” Dax replied. “And we don’t know if he’s been married before or not.”

“Eternal bachelor,” Sandrina replied. “He said the monogamous life isn’t for him.”

“Probably worked in his favor when he was the top dog in a fleet and could get anyone’s attention he wanted,” Dax said, pressing the elevator’s button. “I’m wondering if he’s regretting that decision now that he’s trapped on a ship with just us.”

The elevator dinged as its door opened. Dax stepped in and pressed the button to Bleeze’s floor before looking at Mark.

“And don’t be throwing shade just because the only person you could get to date you was someone you had to make,” he joked.

“My options weren’t great,” Mark countered. “Everyone’s either old, already in a relationship or a dude. And if I go outside of the ship, I’m a dead man.”

“Did you just call me old?” Sandrina asked.

“Don’t worry,” Dax sneered. “You get used to it.”

11

NEWS

“Ah-HA! It’s good to see you, my boys,” Bleeze called out before looking at Sandrina. “And lady.”

He walked across his office, arms outstretched. Dax leaned over and gave him a hug, followed by Mark then Sandrina.

“I’ve had my feelers out ever since you took out Tylira. I wanted to make sure she was actually… you know.” He drew a finger across his throat and made a clicking noise with his tongue.

“Not even a Tardig could’ve survived that,” Dax said.

“Apparently so. No one’s seen or heard of her since, and apparently, her entire fleet’s missing too. Sent out a destruction SOS. You really take all of them out too?”

“You know how we work: do it right, do it once,” Dax replied.

“Of course, of course.” Bleeze nodded. “What’s bringing you back to Tachyon?”

Mark pointed at Dax’s head.

“He needs a new helmet,” Mark said.

“And we were hoping to speak with you and Decombres,” Sandrina added.

“Speak to us about what?” Decombres asked, emerging from a back room.

“About bringing the strength of this station to bear against the Valtakuntera,” Dax replied.

Decombres stopped his advance. He cracked a smile and scoffed at the suggestion.

“This place is a pebble, nothing more than a blip on the radar in comparison to the giant that is the Valtakuntera. I throw this at them, we all die.”

The corners of Dax’s lips twitched. He fought back a laugh while Bleeze took a step back.

“What’s so funny, kid?” Bleeze asked.

“It’s interesting you should word it like that,” Dax said, looking at Decombres. “On my world, we’ve got a little piece of history about a boy named David. With nothing but a sling and a rock, he killed a giant by the name of Goliath by hitting him in the head.”

“Must’ve been a lucky shot,” Decombres replied.

Dax shook his head. He extended an arm and held up five fingers.

“David picked five stones for that fight.”

“In case he missed,” Bleeze jumped in.

Dax folded his thumb down.

“Goliath had four brothers. He knew he wouldn’t miss, and he planned on Goliath’s brothers coming out to fight him. They didn’t. They fled and died with the rest of the Philistine army.”

Decombres’ expression dropped to an amused frown. He took a few steps forward while Dax lowered his arm.

“That’s an interesting story. I assume you want us to be your first stone, then?”

“Absolutely not. You’re a businessman,” Dax said, stepping toward Decombres to look him in the eye. “You wouldn’t just throw your assets at something without a plan, other backers or a chance at return.”

“Very astute of you. I’m assuming my rate of return is a galaxy without the Valtakuntera?”

“Very astute of you,” Dax replied.

A brief, amused pause settled between them before vanishing just as quickly.

“And your plan?”

“You’re a businessman. Is it good business to show all of your cards before the contract is signed?” Dax asked.

“I’d need to see at least one,” Decombres replied.

Dax moved his hands behind his back, grasping one wrist with the other hand.

“I’ll say this. Should you choose to join us in our offensive against the Valtakuntera, you won’t be the stone meant for Goliath. You’ll be the one meant for his second brother.”

“And what two factions do you have already under your heel? The Alcazar, the Ryshy?”

Dax shook his head.

“I plan on approaching them after you.”

“We are the three largest factions. I doubt the ones you have are comparable enough to stand against a Valtakuntera fleet.”

“Have you forgotten who you’re talking to?” Sandrina asked. “This man has single handedly taken down Valtakuntera fleets before.”

“Heck, my mom’s done it without firing a shot,” Mark added.

“Ah, so your mother is one of your allies. I should quake in my boots at her power,” Decombres teased.

“I wouldn’t mock that woman if I were you,” Dax warned.

“Is she some military genius I should be worried about?”

“Typically, I’d say no, but she did single handedly hold off an entire Valtakuntera assault force on Dal’no’nuuur with one mostly functioning ship, one partially functioning ship and one that was almost completely disabled.”

“And if she heard you talking that level of disrespect, no number of Tardig guards would protect you from her shoe,” Sandrina added.

“Oooohoohoo,” Mark chuckled. “Yeah, you need to watch out for that shoe.”

“A shoe?” Decombres asked, unimpressed.

“Don’t mock it. Kingdoms would fall to that shoe,” Dax replied. “All that aside, her strike group may be small, but the cannon we have on the Junkyard is one of hundreds they gave us.”

Bleeze took a step forward.

“Wait, didn’t you…”

“Yes,” Dax cut in.

Bleeze’s face lit up. He turned to Decombres.

“That’s an impressive show of force.”

“What is? A bunch of slightly advanced cannons?”

“No. One shot punched through a Valtakuntera cruiser. It’s the ship that helped them escape Henuva’s holding craft before whittling down his entire fleet to nothing.”

“You expect me to take your word on that?” Decombres asked.

“When have we lied to you?” Dax asked, stiffening his spine. “When have we ever let you down? I’m sure you’ve heard about what happened with Tylira and her Death Squad.”

Dax turned from Decombres to look at his crew. He shrugged.

“But if you don’t believe we’re packing that kind of firepower, I can always reach out to my crew and have them fire a shot in the hangar.”

Decombres’ eyes widened. His face turned stern as he let out a long, slow exhale.

“That won’t be necessary,” Decombres replied. “I’ll be your third pebble. But I expect to be kept in the loop. And I’ll need a favor from you first.”

“Of course you will,” Bleeze said, throwing his hands into the air.

“What’s the favor?”

“There’s a hacking group that’s been getting into the cybernetics of my denizens. Malfunctions are a very real issue, and it’s cost more lives than I care to admit. Find that hacking group, take them down, and you have my station and its strength as your own.”

Dax turned toward Mark. The young man looked at his staff before giving it a tap on the ground.

“Good thing I decided to bring this, then,” he said. “I’ll put a firewall of my own making in my eye, so it doesn’t decide to pop off.”

“That would be devastating,” Sandrina added.

“Yeah, it would. You saw what it did to Tylira,” Mark scoffed.

Bleeze’s brow furrowed. He leaned forward, eyes narrowing with curiosity.

“What’d it do to Tylira?” he whispered.

Dax dragged his hand from his upper inner thigh, across his hip before making a throwaway motion.

“Nice,” Bleeze said.

“Thank you. Would prefer not to have that happen in my skull,” Mark replied.

Dax turned his attention to Decombres.

“What do you know about this group? Where are they holed up?”

“The Broken Shield’s old base. Their absence has created quite the vacuum. I admit my failing in being aware of just how much of a stabilizing influence their presence was.”

“And you can’t send your security forces down there to take care of them?” Sandrina asked.

“I could, but it would break the delicate, unspoken treaty I have with my people, and they outnumber my forces twenty to one.”

“Ah, good, so we’re your mercenaries on this one,” Mark huffed.

“Can you at least let us know if Buzzro’s on the station?” Dax asked.

“Last I heard, he was. I can put out the word, see if I can locate him,” Decombres replied.

“Won’t be necessary. Put a bounty on the leader’s head for us, I’ll have the funds transferred to you. Make it big enough he won’t be able to resist.”

“Why don’t we just contact him directly?” Mark asked.

“Remember the last time we met? He was less than pleased with me.”

“He didn’t seem ticked at Sandrina,” Mark added.

“Are you kidding me?” she countered. “My presence is what triggered the whole thing and forced him to break cover. He’s not happy with me either.”

“Great, surprise the extremely deadly bounty hunting mercenary with a party two-thirds full of people he disdains,” Mark grumbled. “That’s not going to end horribly at all.”

“Fortunately, he serves the highest bidder,” Bleeze chimed in. “And you got more money than most of the schlubs stuck here. If things go sideways, just pay him off.”

“We could, but I’d rather not go broke trying not to get into another firefight,” Dax countered.

He rubbed the translator implanted behind his ear, connecting with Jun.

“I need you to do me a favor,” Dax said. “Master Decombres is going to send you an invoice. Can you transfer that amount to him from our ship funds?”

“Affirmative. How much am I cleared to give?”

“Enough to make it irresistible to Buzzro without seeming suspicious,” Dax replied.

“Copy that. I’m looking through his last one hundred contracts to find a median then add two percent,” Jun replied.

“That’s my girl,” Mark mused.

Bleeze blinked and took a half step back.

“What do you mean that’s your girl?” he asked.

“Oh, right, yeah, you don’t know. I guess technically, I’m your nephew-in-law,” Mark replied.

Dax groaned, hung his head and shook it.

“That’s not a thing and you’re not married,” he said.

“Do I want to know what this is about?” Decombres asked.

“No, no, you absolutely do not. If you don’t want to be here when this inevitably spirals out of control,” Dax said, motioning between Mark, Sandrina and himself, “I’d strongly suggest you post that bounty now.”

Decombres nodded before looking at Bleeze.

“I will take my leave,” he said.

“By all means,” Bleeze replied.

Decombres turned and walked out of the office and into an elevator. Once the doors shut, Dax looked at Bleeze.

“Your lead paid off big time. I hope it’s not costing you too much.”

“Eh, not more than I’d be willing to give for Kane,” Bleeze replied. “Although, I will say, if you’re really going after the Valtakuntera, you could use the guild’s resources.”

“I imagine that’ll cost us a pretty penny,” Mark replied.

“No,” Sandrina cut in, shaking her head. “I know what they’ll want. No one’s come back from that particular job.”

“And the salvage offer keeps growing,” Bleeze replied. “It’s big enough now you could buy the guild with it if you wanted. If you bypassed the payout, you could get them to do whatever you want.”

“Bleeze,” Sandrina scolded.

“What?” he asked, looking at her. “I’ve seen the footage that was salvaged. If it wasn’t something I think you could handle, I wouldn’t have suggested it.”

“If our strength isn’t enough after we get everyone together, we’ll look into it,” Dax cut in.

He turned and started toward the elevators. Sandrina and Mark followed closely while Mark still muttered about his relationship status and its technicalities.

Reaching the elevator, he pressed the down button. Almost immediately, the door slid open. He stepped in, held the door for his team and looked at Bleeze while pressing the button for the lower decks.

“I’m not one for a suicide mission, after all,” he said.

Bleeze huffed and threw two arms up while the others folded across his chest.

“That’s literally all you OGREs are known for. Literally every mission you take is a suicide mission. You’re just the only ones dumb enough or lucky enough to survive it. I’m not really sure which yet.”

“Call it well-trained,” Dax countered as the doors shut.

12

RE-TOOL

The streets were significantly less crowded as they made their way out of the elevator. Dax looked around at hundreds instead of thousands of people. Most were missing their cybernetic attachments. Some sported scars indicative of power sources exploding. An uneasiness had settled on the citizens.

“How are you doing back there?” Dax asked.

They weaved through the crowd with ease.

“I’ve already had four hack attempts, but my firewall’s holding strong,” Mark replied.

“It’s a good thing Henuva couldn’t make it,” Sandrina said.

“Amen to that,” Dax replied.

He followed the path they’d taken a handful of times by now. They reached the inlet that led to their armorist. Toxic Queen cybernetics dangled from the bar and shops’ awnings. Dax looked around and let out a whistle.

“What kind of message do you think they’re trying to send?” Sandrina asked.

“Mess with our clientele and we’ll turn you into wind chimes,” Mark replied.

“I am in agreement with that,” Dax replied.

“Barbaric,” Sandrina huffed.

“Yeah, but it’s effective,” Dax replied. “Not that long ago on our world, when someone did something that warranted death, their heads would be put on spears overlooking the city, or at the city gates as a warning for everyone not to do what the beheaded did.”

Dax walked up to the armorist shop. He tapped a dangling metallic ribcage. It let out a series of reverberating chimes. He looked back at a grimacing Sandrina and Mark, whose face beamed brightly.

“That’s so wrong,” Sandrina muttered.

“That’s so great.” Mark chuckled, walking toward the armory.

Dax gave the ribs one more whimsical tap before opening the armorist’s door. He and Mark stepped in. Sandrina gave the dangling cybernetics a wide berth.

“You guys again?” the slug-like shop owner asked.

“The fact that we have to keep coming back to you is a testament to your skill,” Dax replied.

“How is it a testament to my skill? You keep breaking my armor!”

“Because, if it wasn’t so well made, we wouldn’t be able to come back to get replacements,” Dax countered.

The armorist’s eyes narrowed. He looked between the group and pulled himself onto his counter.

“There were three of you,” he said, pointing at Dax. “Where’s the third?”

A heavy silence filled the room as a weight Dax hadn’t felt for a while pulled at him. He glanced at Mark, then Sandrina. Both were silent, looking at the ground as well.

“Oh,” the armorist broke the quiet. “I take it he wasn’t wearing the helmet I gave him?”

“No,” Dax said after a sigh. “He gave it to me after I broke mine.”

“How’d you break yours?”

“It took a couple of stabs, then he went into the vacuum of space and bashed his helmet so hard into our enemies that it broke both their gear,” Mark chimed in.

Dax pointed at Mark. The armorist nearly squealed in delight at the story. It hopped to its feet, clapped its hands and pointed at them.

“That’s what I love about your race. You may break my work, but it’s always with a good story. I figured you’d be back. I took the opportunity to design several new helmets with different attributes for you to look at.”

“How much will it cost us?” Sandrina asked.

“You’ve bought so many sets from me, I figured this one could be on the house.”

“Hmm, buy three sets, get the fourth one free,” Dax mused. “That’d be a good punch card.”

The armorist led them to the back room. Dozens of him toiled away on weapons and protective gear. Dax noticed a distinct lack of cybernetics compared to the last time they’d gotten a peek behind the curtain.

“Hackers are messing with you too?” Mark asked.

“You slow down the industry, there are fewer weapons that can be used against you,” the armorist replied.

He walked in a semi-circular path around the middle of his workshop. Dax followed closely, noting the pungent stench of oil and sweat permeating the room.

“How many did you lose?” Dax asked.

“My kind isn’t like most others,” the armorist countered. “We have asexual reproduction based on the genetic snapshot of when the splitting takes place. Death is meaningless to us because every one of these is me, and I am every one of them. Same memories, same skills, same personality. We only start having different experiences after the split.”

They approached a sealed rack and lifted their hand over their head, pressing a thumb into a fingerprint scanner.

“Fortunately, they all have my same drive for business and productivity, making a solid, highly trained workforce,” the armorist replied.

“I could imagine that would make for a potentially bad cascade effect of overpopulation,” Sandrina said.

“You have no idea. It’s what stripped our planet of all its natural resources,” the armorist said.

A keypad emerged from the closed rack. The armorist started punching in a code.

“That’s why only the leader of this group is allowed to split. Once one of them reaches the pinnacle of work, and doesn’t have any injuries—because those carry over—that one will be tucked away safely to take charge in case anything happens to me.”

“And has anything happened to you?” Dax asked.

“You haven’t met the same me twice,” the armorist scoffed, continuing to put in his code. “This job is dangerous as is. Put it on Tachyon, and it becomes even more so.”

“Then why not move someplace else?” Dax asked.

“Because the sales here are bonkers, like, buy your own star system when you retire, bonkers,” the armorist explained. “And I’ve heard the Valtakuntera found a way to mimic the genetic traits of other races. Imagine what they’d do if they got their hands on one of me. Bye, bye galaxy.”

“Really?” Sandrina asked.

“I mean, Tylira did manage to copy a version of our healing factor,” Mark added.

“A mutated version. If they tried it with this, they’d turn the galaxy into the Marvel Cancerverse,” Dax added.

Sandrina’s brow furrowed. She tilted her head to one side before turning her attention back to the armorist, who was still typing.

“And what’s stopping them from just finding another one of your kind?” she asked.

“I was the only one who saw what having trillions of self-replicating beings was going to do to a planet. I was the only one who left. Which means I’m the only one that is left,” the armorist replied.

“I’m sorry,” Sandrina said.

“When someone does something stupid after being warned not to and it backfires on them, do you feel bad for them?” the armorist asked, still punching in their code.

“Not really,” Dax said.

“I usually just laugh,” Mark added.

“I do,” Sandrina chimed in.

“Well, don’t,” the armorist said, motioning toward Dax and Mark with a spindly arm. “These two have the right idea. When a world’s population can double every hour like clockwork and they don’t do anything to stop themselves, they earn what happens.”

The soft beeping of hundreds of presses on the machine started to wear on Dax. He bit his tongue, forcing himself to be silent.

“You almost done with the code over there?” Mark asked.

Dax’s heart sank. His head hung forward while a warmth flooded his cheeks.

“Come on, man,” Dax whispered.

“Yes, but there’s a reason it’s this long,” the armorist replied.

With the press of another button, a green light flashed and the sounds of locks disengaging rang out.

“This holds my most prized works. It’s mostly nothing compared to what you have, but for this station, it’s advanced enough that people want to steal it,” the armorist explained. “After a few dozen smash and grabs, I figured out a way to make this unbreakable, or at least so durable that to get in it would require explosives enough to destroy everything inside.”

They grabbed a few latches on the outside and pulled them into unlocked positions.

“Then they figured out they can see which keys I put in most often, and were able to break in that way,” the armorist continued. “By making an intricate and insanely long passcode that hit every key equally, along with making the locks manual and on a closed circuit while not reliant on advanced technologies, it’s reduced my break-in attempts to zero, when it used to be every other day.”

“That’s impressive,” Dax said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Thank you,” the armorist replied.

With a shove, they rolled the door up and into the ceiling. Fancy guns and pristine knives decorated the wall, along with a few armor prototypes. At the top, almost out of reach, was a slew of helmets.

Dax turned his attention toward them. He pursed his lips and tapped his finger against his arm. The first looked exactly like their previous piece of equipment. Dax paused and pointed to the second.

“If I get that one, I think I’d have to change my name to John-117,” he mused.

“If you do, Jun’s not going into your head,” Mark chimed in.

“Are you sure? I always thought she looked like a Cortana,” Dax teased.

“No,” Mark belted with a wave of his hand. “Move along.”

“That’s what I’d have to say with this one,” he said.

He motioned toward the third. It was white, with angular edges giving a menacing appearance. Black additions highlighted its white body with oddly separated eye lenses and two strange bulbs at the bottom on its front.

“I think my accuracy would go out the window faster than Mace Windu if I picked that one,” he said to himself.

“What are they talking about?” the armorist asked.

“I’ve learned not to try and figure it out,” Sandrina replied.

Dax passed the next few, inspecting them closely. Their designs were too bulbous for his liking or too narrow to provide enough comfort and line of sight to work with. Reaching the last one, he paused.

“Oooo, tell me about this,” he said softly.

“That’s the one I figured you’d pick,” the armorist replied. “It’s my most advanced model yet. It has everything the original helmet had but is ten times as durable. I also added a weapon system in the helmet; those two things down there are actually missiles. The brow ring is an anti personnel mine that can’t be armed until it’s removed. And the internal radar is sensitive enough to pick up a heartbeat from a hundred yards away, even if it’s encased in stealth armor.”

Dax reached forward. He picked up the muted gray helmet, staring into its eyes. He couldn’t help but smile at the tusks, its strong, skeletal nature or the eyebrow ring. He touched it; it didn’t move or flop around.

“Solid choice making it stay in place,” he said.

“I figured if it bounced, it’d be a distraction. All you have to do is grab and pull straight down. That’ll arm it,” the armorist replied. “And with your emblem, I figured I’d make it an OGRE skull.”

“I see that,” Dax chuckled.

He turned the intimidating helmet around. Sliding it onto his head, he gave it a twist, locking it onto his suit. Instantly, the HUD flickered to life. The internal screen wrapped completely around his head, eliminating all blind spots, even with the sunken eyes.

Dax turned toward Mark and Sandrina. A notification appeared, indicating Mark’s heart rate spiked.

“How do I look?” Dax asked.

“Intimidating,” Sandrina replied.

“I want one,” Mark whispered.

Dax looked at the armorist.

“How many of these do you have?” he asked.

“That’s the only one, but I can start production on a few more, have enough ready for your entire crew in a few weeks to months,” the armorist replied. “That is, if you’re okay waiting that long.”

“I absolutely am!” Mark replied.

“That’ll work. We’ll transfer over the money right away,” Dax said.

He turned back to face his team. Sandrina stepped toward him and threw a punch at his head as hard as she could. She connected with a loud clang, causing Dax to stagger backward, not feeling the hit.

“What was that for?” Dax asked.

“Needed to make sure it worked.” Sandrina shrugged.

Dax grunted before looking at the armorist.

“It works. We also could go for a few new toes, if you don’t mind.”

13

OLD BASE

After paying the armorist, they made their way toward the old Broken Shield base. Dax slid two shells into his shotgun. He looked at some of the fidgety citizens eyeing them. Mark’s staff beeped softly, followed by him letting off a frustrated huff.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered.

“What is it?” Dax asked.

“They’re trying to get into my staff and our suits. It’s the third time since we left the armorist,” he explained. “I will say this, they’re tenacious to say the least.”

“Are you going to be able to keep them out?” Sandrina asked.

“Do you have any idea who you’re talking to?” Mark scoffed. “Not only am I kicking them out, but I’m bouncing our digital footprints all over this station. To them, it looks like we’re everywhere and nowhere.”

“Perfect cover for an approach,” Dax said, snapping his shotgun shut.

“That’s what I was thinking,” Mark replied.

They continued weaving their way through the sparse crowd. Everyone gave them room to move. There was no bumping, surrounding or pickpocket attempts like on previous visits. Sandrina kept close to Dax, her gun at the ready.

“Seems a little more peaceful this time around,” she said softly.

“Don’t mistake fear for peace,” Dax countered. “They can’t do anything to us without their cybernetic implants.”

“If they tried anything, it’d be reminiscent of the Mark Grayson Train scene,” Mark added.

Dax grimaced at the concept before nodding in agreement.

“Let’s try to avoid that as much as possible. We’ve got allies to make, not civilians to splatter,” he added.

They rounded a corner. Standing at the top of a street, the buildings provided clear line of sight to the Broken Shield's old facility. Graffiti tagged the entire outside of the building. Nearly none of the metal was visible from this distance. Mark stepped forward and pointed at one of the yellow outlined tags and chuckled.

“That kind of looks like Florida.”

Dax tilted his head to one side, looking at the painting.

“You know what? You’re not completely wrong there,” he mused.

Sandrina leaned forward, inspecting the painting before rubbing her chin.

“That does not look like a Florida to me,” she said.

“Do you even know what that is?” Mark asked.

“I assumed some sort of tool,” she replied with a wry smirk. “I mean, that does look like a tool of sorts, but nothing that could be used on a machine, if you know what I mean.”

Dax rolled his eyes while Mark stifled a laugh.

“That’s fantastic!” he exclaimed. “Florida, America’s di…”

“Okay, let’s keep going,” Dax interrupted. “Last thing we need is to get picked off while we’re discussing the phallicities of Florida.”

“You really think there are going to be snipers on that roof?” Mark asked.

They pressed forward. Dax kept an eye on the upper ledge of the building.

“It’s tactically sound,” Sandrina added.

“It is, but something tells me Mark has an explanation as to why that won’t be the case,” Dax added.

“They’re hackers,” Mark explained. “The trope of them being in their parents’ basements drinking Code Red Mountain Dew and eating chips all day isn’t there for no reason.”

Dax noticed movement at the corner of the facility. He tilted his head. His new OGRE skull helmet emerged from his armor and closed around his head. Sandrina did the same while Mark activated Kane’s original piece of gear.

Dax’s eyes locked onto the movement; the HUD highlighted it before zooming in. A series of small rails appeared accompanied by an unmanned turret with a long barrel appearing from behind the ledge. It started to scan the area. A red light danced across the streets.

“Get to cover,” Dax ordered.

He rushed to a nearby alleyway and ducked inside. Sandrina followed suit while Mark ducked behind a garbage bin. The scanner passed over the street. Dax let out a long, slow breath of relief. He inched toward the opening and peered around the corner. The turret continued its drive around the facility.

“See? Told you, no sniper, just a turret. I bet if we were to steam up that building before getting in, we’d be able to take them without firing a shot,” Mark added.

“Do I want to know?” Sandrina asked.

“Probably some only partially accurate assumption about fogging up glasses, and when they take them off, their vision is so bad they won’t see us coming,” Dax explained.

“No, I was actually thinking that I could go invisible and you two could use the steam as cover and your HUDs to see through it,” Mark countered. “When they try to do the same with their ocular implants, I can hack them and stop that from happening.”

He looked at Dax and gave a cocky point of his finger.

“And that is how you classify nerds—not with glasses, but with tech,” he boasted.

Dax broke cover. He kept his eyes on the turret while moving forward. Sandrina and Mark both followed him closely.

“So, what you’re telling me is they don’t have organic eyes anymore?” Dax asked.

“Judging by this place, probably not,” Mark replied.

All three ducked into another alley as the light passed over their area once more.

“And parts of the body that no longer work as well as they could are replaced by cybernetics, correct?” Dax continued.

“I don’t think I’m following your train of thought, but yes,” Mark added.

“Okay, then that means they upgraded to synthetic eyes because theirs weren’t working, which means they would’ve needed glasses, and those would steam up if we flood the building,” Dax argued.

“Ah! And they’d have to take them off, wouldn’t be able to see us and make our job a little easier,” Sandrina chimed in. “I see what you’re saying. That makes so much sense!”

She gave Dax a playful push to the shoulder.

“Very smart,” she teased.

“I hate you both,” Mark huffed.

“Not so much you won’t make that cannon automatically lock onto us,” Dax mused.

With a flick of his thumb, Mark made his staff’s holographic interface appear.

“I can change that,” Mark replied.

They made another dive behind a pile of garbage as the turret’s scanner splashed around them. Dax took a deep breath. His heart raced. His free hand slapped against Sandrina’s back and pushed her into the pile.

“What are you doing?” she asked with a grunt.

“Just making sure everyone’s out of sight,” Dax replied.

The light vanished. Breaking cover, they rushed toward the building once more.

“I get that, but I can fold myself in half, even in my suit. Mark’s much less flexible than I am,” Sandrina replied. “Do that to Mark next time.”

“Won’t need to,” Dax said.

He pointed at a hatch almost a hundred yards away from them.

“Ruthnar showed me a secret entrance over here.”

Reaching the hatch, Dax grabbed the latch and threw it open. Sandrina dropped to one hip and slid through the open hatch and underground. Mark did the same. Dax followed, shutting the grate just as the scanner moved over their location.

Darkness enveloped them, accompanied by echoing splashes dancing around them. Dax activated his suit’s lights. Beams punched through the void, illuminating a large, metal room. Toxic air warnings flashed along the corners of his helmet.

“Whatever you do, don’t take your helmet off,” Dax said.

“And don’t shoot your guns,” Mark added. “I’m picking up a flammable atmosphere. What could’ve… oohhhh, oh man!”

“What?” Sandrina asked.

Dax pushed past them, each step sloshing with thick, dark water.

“Henuva’s not the only one in the black tank right now,” Dax replied. “But this’ll bring us into the armory restroom.”

Mark let out a dry heave. Sandrina put her hand on her stomach while holding up a finger.

“Oh, come on, guys,” Dax said.

He clenched his jaw and swallowed hard; his stomach started to turn as the heavy air’s stench seeped into his suit through his filter.

“You’ve all worked the black tanks before,” Dax continued.

“Yes, but that was for five organics,” Sandrina replied, “not an entire coven of mercenaries.”

“Let’s just get out of here before the filters fail in earnest,” Dax said. “Otherwise, we’re all going to die, and this is not what I want my cause of death to be.”

“And what would you want it to be?” Sandrina asked.

The room narrowed from a pool to knee-deep flowing liquid. Dax stepped onto a narrow ledge just above the waterline and started to walk.

“You first,” Dax said.

“If it’s unnatural, on my feet,” Sandrina replied.

“You barely let him get that question out,” Mark chimed in.

“In our line of work, it could come at any moment,” Sandrina replied with a shrug. “It’s hard not to think about it.”

“That’s pretty good,” Mark replied. “I’m thinking mine’s right there with yours, quick, painless, just lights out.”

“You guys are getting really morbid back there,” Dax said.

“How do you want to go?” Sandrina asked.

Dax reached a door. He grabbed it before looking around its outer edge for a manual lock.

“Mine is right up there with Tyrian Lannister’s,” Dax said.

He grabbed a heavily eroded latch and pulled. It snapped at the pin, breaking the handle from the lock. The lock dropped into the sewage. Dax looked at the handle before dropping it as well.

“But something tells me what Henuva did to us will make me live far beyond my eighties.”

“I’m sure we can find a good wine for you,” Mark added. “I’m not helping you with the third part.”

“What is the third part?” Sandrina asked.

“You really don’t want to know.” Dax chuckled.

He grabbed the door with a pull. The hinges screeched as it opened. Once he stepped through he motioned to a ladder across the room from them.

“We climb that, we come up in the bathroom,” Dax ordered.

He led them to the ladder and started to climb. The metal groaned under his weight. He held his breath and muttered a prayer, but it managed to hold fast. Once he reached the roof, he reached up to open the latch. It was pulled free from the other side.

Dax looked up to see a half a dozen heavily modified beings. Those with hair were dyed unnatural colors. They all sported piercings and aimed weapons at him.

“Just because we couldn’t pick you up on our sensors doesn’t mean our motion detectors couldn’t pick up your movement,” one said. “We’re going to send your mangled corpses back to Decombres as a warning to not send anyone else after us.”

“Anyone else?” Dax asked. “I assume that means we’re not your first?”

“The other guy came through less than half an hour ago. He was good, don’t get me wrong, but we disabled his armor.”

The pale blue light of Mark’s staff’s projection danced up from the sewer below. He let out a chuckle, causing concern to coil in Dax’s gut more than the guns aimed at his head.

“Well, solely for the purpose of telling people I gave you the choice. How about you put those guns away, give us the guy you captured and stop hacking into everyone’s implants, and we leave all of you intact.”

Another scoffed, her weapon started to whine as Mark’s chuckle twisted into a cackle.

“Why listen to you talk when we can just kill you?” she asked.

Dax motioned to the sewer below him.

“You hear that noise?” Dax asked. “That’s the noise of a man who just discovered something that’s bad for everyone involved, just worse for you than us.”

“What could he have possibly discovered?” a third asked.

“Our suits can withstand the blast,” Mark said.

A green flash followed by a heat warning, surge of orange and concussive blast launched Dax into the bathroom.

14

EXPLOSIVE ENTRY

An impact warning flashed across Dax’s HUD as he bounced off the ceiling. His armor absorbed the impact. Not feeling the first hit was good engineering. The second was luck.

His head and arms slammed against the sink counter. He flipped, his legs slipping under the counter while landing on his head and shoulders against the ground.

During his stint as a human pinball, his shotgun flew out of his hand and clattered across the floor. The flames engulfed the hackers, burning the hair off those who were mammalian.

Dax let out a groan and rolled over to his back. He looked up to see a barrel pointed at his face. A singed Galio loomed over him. Plasma splashed against his helmet. The visors immediately darkened, protecting his eyes from the blinding light. A notification that heat dispersion sat at ninety-nine percent flickered in the corner.

“What?” the Galio hissed. “This was supposed to melt metal like…”

Dax’s hand grabbed the sword handle protruding from his shoulder. In a flash, he cut off the hacker’s sentence along with his feet. Shrieks sailed from the Galio’s mouth as he fell to the ground. With another swipe of his sword, the hacker fell silent.

Dax rolled over. With a groan, he pushed himself onto his knees, only to be met by several more guns pointed at him. An external heat warning flickered on his HUD. Dax looked down. His armor was on fire.

“Ah crap,” he grumbled.

An explosion forced his right shoulder back. A second caused him to lean forward. A third, in his back, shot him upright. Within seconds, his entire bandolier of shotgun shells went off.

Casings and pellets flew in every direction. Some bounced off his armor, others punched into the hackers, killing one. A slug flew across the room and hit a water pipe, causing it to burst. Like a tidal wave, water flooded the room. One of the hackers shot at Dax. The flood swiped his feet out from under him, sending the attacker’s plasma shot into the head of one of his compatriots.

Dax let the flood pull him to the ground to extinguish his suit. He was pushed across the room, colliding with a wall. He held on to his sword tightly while using his other hand to get him to his knees.

Groans emanated through the bathroom’s piping, causing it to rattle violently. One of the pipes broke free. It fell, crushing one of the invaders while sending even more water rushing into the bathroom.

The second wave hit Dax square on with enough force to push him to his feet. His armor clattered against the wall while a guttural grunt sounded over the onslaught of water.

Once the initial surge ebbed away, a fourth hacker slid lifelessly off Dax’s sword. He shook it in the air, letting out a confused grunt.

“Sorry, sorry, that was not what I’d call intentional,” Dax said as the body was washed away with the water.

One of the remaining hackers let out a scream. Dax looked over to see her pulled down the hole he’d climbed up from. Her sound vanished almost as quickly as she did.

“You!” a singed, soaked, yet somehow still smoldering hacker screamed. “You’re going to die for that!”

He drew a knife before lumbering toward Dax through the shin-high water. A piece of loose piping just under the surface caught Dax’s attention. He pointed at it. Before he could say anything, the hacker tripped, fell and impaled himself with his own knife. His body was quickly pulled down the hatch too.

As the water subsided, Dax looked around the bathroom. Confusion swirled in his mind while he tried to make sense of what he’d just witnessed. With another swing, he got all the liquid off his sword before sheathing it.

“What is going on?” he whispered to himself.

With the water little more than ankle deep, his shotgun revealed itself, jammed between several loosened bars. Dax stepped over the collapsed pipe, making his way back to his weapon before picking it up.

“What happened here?” Sandrina asked.

Dax turned to see the Bastet climbing out of the hatch on the ground.

“The only way I can even think about putting it is a comedy of errors,” Dax replied.

“We heard a lot of gunfire. Are you okay?”

Dax motioned to what was left of his bandolier.

“Fire and gunpowder do not mix!” he exclaimed. “I got shells going off, slugs bursting water pipes. This guy,” Dax pointed at the one under the pipe, “blew that guy’s head off trying to get me. That one just landed on my sword. I only actively tried to take out one of them, I swear.”

“You couldn’t leave any for the rest of us, could you?” Mark asked.

He climbed through the hatch as well.

“The first one that got pulled down to you was still alive,” Dax countered.

“She didn’t last long; she landed on her head,” Mark said, looking around the room. “What in the dark side of Mr. Magoo happened here?”

Dax checked his shotgun to ensure it was still functional. He broke it open, pulled the shells out and checked the barrels were clear. Giving the rounds a shake to get the water off, he slid them back in and snapped the gun shut.

“You did,” Dax explained, “when you decided to go nuclear with the methane buildup down there. So much for stealth!”

Mark’s fingers ran down his staff. His holographic interface appeared. With a few taps, the water main shut off. With another swipe, a hiss rose from the armory on the other side of the wall.

“I think it’s time we all agree to step out of denial and just accept the fact that exactly zero percent of our stealth plans go accordingly,” Mark said.

He shut off the hologram before summoning the scythe out of the suit’s arm.

“In fact, more often than not, it ends in an explosion,” Mark started to shimmer out of visibility. “Let’s do what we do best: improvise and end this.”

He vanished completely, along with his weapons. As Mark walked out of the bathroom, he sloshed water with each step.

“They may not be able to see you, but they’ll see your disturbances,” Sandrina warned.

“No, they won’t. They’re having a good steam bath right now,” Mark replied.

With a sigh, Sandrina got the water out of her gun before checking the chamber.

“We’re all going to die,” she said, closing the breech.

“Eh, I’d wait to give until after we’ve had a chance to talk to the leader face to face,” Mark said.

His fingers flew across his holographic projection. His suit flickered; his cloaking overtook him. Once invisible, he made his way toward the bathroom door, water sloshing with each of his steps.

“Let’s just get this done,” Dax huffed.

He sheathed his sword and made his way toward the door. Dax swapped his shotgun to his off hand before drawing his pistol. Sandrina drew her axe with her free hand, spinning it to the spiked back edge.

“Okay, but if I don’t make it, I’m coming back and haunting your butt,” she muttered.

“I’m sure the ship could use a friendly ghost,” Dax countered.

“I didn’t say the ship,” Sandrina said, pointing her axe at him. “I mean you, personally. Every time you think you have a moment of peace and quiet, boom, I’ll be there.”

“Sure thing, stalker woman.” Dax chuckled.

Dax made his way toward the bathroom door, his mind still trying to make sense of the explosion and flood.

“Fortunately, I can attest firsthand that these helmets are fantastic,” he added.

Reaching the door, he pressed himself against the corner before quickly poking his head around and pulling back. The hallway was empty.

“Mark, if you’re in the hallway, let me know. I don’t want to bump into you,” Dax whispered.

“I’m not,” Mark replied. “I’m outside. There’s about two dozen of these guys standing out here, waiting for you to come out.”

“We don’t have a grenade. Can you make a distraction?” Sandrina asked.

“I could, but what if I need you guys to buy me a few minutes to do something fun?” Mark asked.

“Fun, how?” Dax asked. “Fun like game night, or fun like boom-whoosh, back there?”

“What if it’s a happy medium?”

“Do you promise we won’t get ourselves killed?” Sandrina asked.

“I can promise that you may get shot once or twice; that part kind of depends on you. But Dax is good at BS-ing his way out of things.”

Dax’s shoulders dropped. He let out a groan before holstering his pistol.

“Fine. But for each time I get shot, you take my black tank jobs for the next three cycles.”

“Deal, but you can’t intentionally get yourself blasted to win the bet,” Mark replied.

Dax took a deep breath. He broke cover and walked through the bathroom hallway. He reached the outside door. Steam billowed through the opening. Dax’s HUD highlighted dozens of people just out of sight in the mist.

“Sandrina, wait for my signal,” Dax said. “Here we go again.”

He stepped out. A bolt of plasma slammed into his chest instantly. It struck the Boronian repaired section. It was pulled into the material, charging Dax’s armor slightly.

“Seriously?” Dax shouted. “That’s one cycle.”

“Dang it,” Mark hissed.

Dax raised his shotgun toward the source of the shot. With a squeeze of a trigger, pellets screamed through the air. Some sparks flew through the steam while a pained grunt preceded a thud.

“On your knees!” another voice rang out.

A second shot struck Dax, staggering him. He looked at the highlights on his display. They stood in front of him. No one covered his flanks. He turned his attention to the walkways above the team. No one positioned themselves above him. He let out a chuckle, loud and intense enough to get their attention.

“What’s so funny?” one asked.

“I thought you guys were going to be a threat,” Dax replied, buying Mark time.

“We’re the Tech Marines; we’re the largest threat on Tachyon!” another barked.

“Tech Marines? Where’d you get that name, the Warhammer 40K handbook?” Dax scoffed.

“What is that?” another voice asked softly.

“Shut up, man,” the first cut in. “We are the hammer of war, and this station will be ours.”

“How do you expect that to work out for you when you aren’t covering my flanks, giving me two points where, if I wanted to, I could disappear,” Dax said, motioning to his left and right. “And on top of that, you don’t have anyone in an overwatch position in case I do get past your lines. That’s combat 101.”

Dax holstered his shotgun and drew his sword once again.

“You’re rank amateurs playing at a big boy’s game. Now I’ll give you the same option I gave those people in that room before…”

Dax was cut off by a plasma shot. With a twitch of his wrist, he caught it on the broad side of his sword. It splashed against the alien metal before being drawn in, giving the weapon a soft glow.

“You know what? Forget it, I’m done being nice. No chances for any of you,” Dax said, looking up at a slightly swinging gantry. “You in place yet? Or do I need to keep stalling them?”

Mark’s cloak faded. The young man stood with his scythe in one hand and staff in the other. A wide smile spread across his features before the OGRE skull overlay hid his face.

“Kill him!” one of the hackers shouted.

“Now, that’s no way to treat a guest!” Mark replied with a gasp. “I’m going to have to teach you some manners.”

He rolled his thumb down the side of his staff. The crystal pulsed and a dozen metallic clangs echoed through the armory, accompanied by confused screaming.

“Oh, stop your whining. At least this way, you’re still alive and can get new cybernetics,” Dax huffed.

“He’s right,” Sandrina added, emerging from the bathroom. “And you should say thank you because the alternative would’ve been worse.”

15

HACKERS

They walked out of the gout of steam Mark triggered. Dax looked around the hangar. What used to be full of weapons and transports was little more than a cobbled-together server bank. Massive, but far less impressive than what Decombres had at his disposal.

“Not bad for an underground hacker group,” Dax said, looking around.

“Are you kidding me?” Mark scoffed.

He walked across the gantry overhead and stopped in front of one of the servers.

“This is amateur,” he added, motioning toward the system in front of him. “My basement at home had a better setup than this.”

“Really?” Sandrina asked.

“I’ve seen that basement. I don’t know what he’s talking about,” Dax whispered.

“Maybe not in size, but size isn’t everything. It’s how you use it,” Mark replied.

“Is that what Jun tells you?” Sandrina asked.

“Ha-ha, burn,” Mark cut in, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“She beat me by a hair,” Dax chimed in.

“If I wanted jokes, I would’ve bought tickets to a standup comedian,” Mark said.

He reached into his suit’s belt and pulled out Bleeze’s finger.

“Now if you guys wouldn’t mind keeping your eyes out for any potential flankers, I’m just gonna finger this machine real quick.”

“Keep it up and you’ll start getting a reputation,” Sandrina said.

“You have to know how that sounds,” Dax said. “I mean, both of you, come on… phrasing.”

He raised his pistol and turned toward the main hangar entrance.

A soft impact of metal on metal emanated from Mark’s position followed by a frustrated series of grumbles. Dax kept his eyes locked on the door as a second sounded, accompanied by a few swears. A hushed beep rang out from the server.

“Are you freaking kidding me?” Mark snarled.

“What?” Dax asked.

“I’m messing with the space equivalent of a USB. What do you think?” Mark growled.

“Third time’s a charm?” Dax asked.

“Yes, third time’s a charm,” Mark grumbled.

Sandrina let out a snigger as she pressed her back against Dax’s.

“Any movement on your end?” she asked.

“Nope, but I’d imagine if they were going to send anyone else, it would likely be a robot,” Dax replied.

“They’re hackers, not mechanical engineers,” Mark countered. “Any robot they’d use would be one left behind by the Broken Shields. Last time I checked, they didn’t use any of those.”

“True, and it’s a good thing I’m not seeing any tanks in here either,” Dax added.

“You think they’d be able to control them remotely?” Sandrina asked.

“No,” Dax said.

“Don’t,” Mark warned.

“I think we wouldn’t be able to get Mark to leave. He loves his tanks,” Dax teased.

“You’re a jerk,” Mark muttered.

He pulled the USB finger out of the server and walked across the gantry above Dax, holding up his thumb.

“I’m ready when you are,” he called down.

“You want to let us know what you just did?” Dax asked.

“Where’s the fun and drama in that?” Mark replied. “You know me, I’m always one for dramatics.”

“I thought that was Dax,” Sandrina replied.

Dax lowered his weapon. He glanced back at Sandrina and scoffed at her. With a shake of his head, he started walking toward the door.

“Woman’s got burns for both of us today,” he huffed.

“What can I say, I learned from watching you guys,” she replied.

“Well, you’re getting good at it,” Mark said.

He positioned himself in front of the door. Aiming his staff at it, he waved for them to approach. Dax looked around the desecrated home of honorable men and shook his head. Pale imitations lay on the ground behind them, covered in bathroom water, unable to even call out for help with so much of them replaced by cybernetics.

With a dismayed sigh, Dax fired two more shots into his sword. It glowed brighter, accompanied by a soft hum while he approached the door. Raising it, he readied to cut through the metal. A hiss rang out as the door slid open.

Dax took a sharp breath. His adrenaline spiked at the sight of a mounted cannon pointed directly at him. With a blindingly quick swipe, he cut the tip of the barrel off. The stored plasma in his sword flared while melting its way through the thick metal.

He raised his pistol and pointed it over the top of the cannon as a head popped up. Its face was contorted by confusion. Seeing Dax’s pistol, the odd alien froze.

“If you were smart, you wouldn’t fire this gun,” Dax said. “It’ll backfire and might kill me, but it will kill you.”

The alien raised two spindly arms that trembled like leaves on a tree. Noticing both arms were organic, Dax lowered his weapon.

“Are you even part of this collective?” Dax asked.

“Th-th-they said if I killed you, I-I’d g-get my i-i-implants,” the alien stammered.

“All it’s going to get you is dead,” Dax countered. “How about this, you tell us where your boss is and step aside.”

“They’ll kill me if I don’t.”

Dax looked at the squirming hackers behind them, then back to the one manning the cannon.

“Why don’t you help your friends. We’ll say you put up a good fight, but you were no match for the three of us, and call it a day,” Dax offered. “You seem like an innocent kid, and I’m not really in the killing mood.”

With the click of his tongue and a twitch of his pistol to one side, the gangly alien fell out from behind the cannon and scrambled into the armory. Dax holstered his pistol, grabbed the sliced barrel and pulled the gun out of its emplacement. It fell forward with ease, clattering to the ground.

“Are you kidding me?” Dax grumbled. “They didn’t even bolt it down. If he’d fired, the recoil would’ve crushed him.”

Mark leaped from the gantry. He landed hard behind Dax and Sandrina before joining them.

“Thug life ain’t for everybody,” Mark said.

“They’re not thugs, they’re hackers,” Dax countered. “No offense, but they’re not exactly the biggest of physical threats.”

Mark cleared his throat as they walked up the stairs to the main hall.

“Excuse me, that seemed a little personal,” Mark countered.

“I don’t think he meant you,” Sandrina replied.

“Every rule has an exception,” Dax said, firing into his sword, causing it to glow and hum. “And being trained by probably the most dangerous human being to ever exist for a decade makes you that exception.”

They reached the top of the stairs. Dozens of cybernetically enhanced aliens stood with their weapons pointed directly at them. Two automatons, clearly stolen from other mercenary groups and reprogrammed, pointed their cannons at the team.

Dax stopped at the top of the stairs. In the center of the room sat a spindly young kid without a single enhancement. A makeshift throne projected multiple holographic screens in front of him. Next to him stood a scantily clad woman holding a platter with a cup half full of red liquid.

“Well, there’s the Code Red; now all that’s missing are the Doritos,” Dax muttered.

“It’s like we just walked in on the worst of the clichés all slammed together,” Mark huffed.

“He doesn’t seem like that big of a threat,” Sandrina replied. “We can get to him before our armor gives out.”

“What does Decombres want?” the young man shouted.

“For you to stop being a pain in his side,” Dax replied.

“And if I enjoy being that?”

“His strength is all that’s keeping the Valtakuntera from attacking this place and destroying it,” Dax explained. “You weaken him too much, it’ll draw their attention. I think you’ll find them a lot less amenable than us.”

“That’s not what Decombres’ bounty hunter said.”

“He’s actually a mercenary; we hired him using Decombres because we figured he wouldn’t want to take a job from us after our last encounter,” Dax explained. “You know, the one that took out the Toxic Queens.”

The leader stood up. He walked down the two steps that elevated him above everyone aside from the twenty-foot robots.

“Do you really think I’d believe that you took out the Toxic Queens and that serpent of theirs?” the young man scoffed.

“We wiped out your first three lines of defense,” Sandrina added.

“Those were my weakest units. Do you really think you’d be able to take on my elites?”

He motioned toward the robots. Dax’s translator vibrated at the base of his skull.

“I’m done scanning those things,” Mark’s voice came through, not over the radio. “I’ve found their power sources. Sending you the info now.”

A red dot highlighted both robots just above the center of their chest and off to one side.

“If this is all YOU have left, then I think I made the RIGHT choice to take this job. It’s kind of sad Buzzro got himself captured; I had higher hopes for him,” Dax said, tightening his grip on his sword. “Last chance, kid. Give us back Buzzro Shrod and abandon this little vendetta of yours and you may just walk out of here alive.”

“You don’t get it do you?” he snarled, stomping toward Dax. “Knowledge is power in this galaxy. I am the greatest hacker to ever exist. I have every bit of knowledge in existence at my fingertips. With a swipe, I get all your dirty secrets, a scroll and I can bankrupt an entire system. With my knowledge, I am a god!”

Dax grimaced and shrugged.

“Eh, I mean, knowledge is a great tool, but at the end of the day, power is power,” Dax replied. “And the three of us are stronger than you. Not to mention by making that claim, you’re just inviting the ire of that one, who is, definitively, the best hacker in the galaxy.”

“He’s good, but do you really think I didn’t notice that little virus he tried to put into our system?”

The hacker turned around, flinging his arms as he spun and marched toward his throne. With a flick of his fingers, foreign code appeared, highlighted red.

“I isolated it before it was even done uploading,” the hacker scoffed.

With a flick of his wrist, the coding vanished.

“And just like that, all your hard work is gone.”

Mark started to chuckle. Dax recognized the sound. His muscles tightened as his HUD provided targeting solutions for those surrounding them.

“What’s so funny?” the leader asked.

“Do you really think I wasn’t expecting you to find that?” Mark asked. “That’s what I like to call a Trojan Horse. And you just activated it.”

The lights flickered while holographic displays flashed on and off before taking the form of a closed fist raising the middle finger. Mark’s staff flashed while his own controls appeared in front of him.

“I would like to formally thank you for giving me complete, unfettered access to your system,” Mark said with a swipe of his hand.

Everything went dark. A beam of light shot from Mark’s staff and struck the weak point of an automaton. Dax threw his sword, piercing the second’s. Both sparked for several seconds before falling forward with a loud clang followed by muffled, angry screams.

“Where I come from, we have a name for someone like you,” Mark said.

Dax’s HUD shifted to night vision, his targeting solutions still locked in.

“Yeah, and what is that?” the hacker leader asked with a trembling voice.

“Noob,” Mark replied.

16

SHUT DOWN

In the dark, Dax rushed to the left, Mark to the right, while Sandrina moved against the back wall.

“What are you waiting for? Slaughter them!” the leader screamed, his voice cracking through his words.

Before they could open fire, a muffled roar echoed from one of the automatons followed by an impact against metal.

“What was that?” Sandrina whispered.

Dax looked at the one he’d thrown his sword at. Its body rocked slightly with each impact. A metallic scraping sounded from it.

“No idea. Mark, is that thing coming back online?” Dax asked.

“No, it’s shut down for good,” the young man replied.

The muffled, angry screams grew louder. With each impact, one or two of the hackers dropped their weapons and ran. Dax noticed the leader retreat to his throne while the overly exposed alien woman dropped the platter and drink before running herself.

“Get back here!” the hacker screamed. “You’re all cowards! Stand and fight!”

Dax’s sword punched through the robot’s back. Sparks flew as it cut in a circle through its carapace.

“Are we about to see a full alien situation?” Mark asked.

“If a robot xenomorph punches through that robot, I’m calling it a day. It can have the sword,” Dax replied. “I took this job to fight nerds, not robotic versions of the perfect predator.”

“You’re a linguistics professor,” Sandrina cut in. “You’re literally as nerdy as they come.”

Another deep clank sounded. The cut-out circle flew into the air, flipping before clattering to the ground. Dax pointed his pistol at the new hole.

“There’s always exceptions to the rule,” he replied.

Two hands, one gripping the sword tightly, emerged from the automaton.

“No claws, that’s good,” Mark muttered.

Buzzro Shrod pulled himself from inside. Sweat poured off his body as he climbed out, bending forward, facing away from Dax and his crew.

“Oh, whoa, don’t need to see that,” Dax said, raising a hand.

“That’s an HR violation,” Mark whimpered.

Sandrina turned completely around.

“There are angles of an unclothed being that are never meant to be seen,” she said softly. “That is certainly at the top of the list.”

“You think darkness will protect you from me?!” Buzzro screeched.

He stood upright. Dax kept his hand censoring the mercenary’s derriere.

“I will rip out your intestines and use them as a scarf on a cold winter day for this!” Buzzro continued.

The hacker let out a terrified squeal. Like a bloodhound on a fox trail, Buzzro turned directly toward him.

“I hear you,” he snarled.

He jumped off the automaton. Dax broke cover from behind a table and snuck up the side of the deactivated machine. Rounding the leg, he froze. Buzzro faced him directly, his sword outstretched, pointed at Dax’s face.

“You don’t think I can hear you?” Buzzro asked. “You’re quieter than most. What are you, a Bastet?”

“I mean, I’m not. Sandrina’s one, though,” Dax replied.

Buzzro lowered the sword, his head tilted to one side and eyes narrowed.

“Dax?”

“The one and only.”

“What are you doing here?”

“We hired you, figured we meet you in the middle. We just used a third party to post the bounty since we didn’t exactly leave things on good terms last time.”

“I may not like you, but if the money’s good, a bounty’s a bounty,” Buzzro replied. “I’m assuming your big green lady’s waiting to spring a trap somewhere?”

“No, no, it’s just me, Sandrina and Mark,” Dax replied. “Mark took care of the systems.”

“It was embarrassingly easy, if I’m being honest,” Mark replied.

“You don’t know what I’m capable of,” the hacker hissed from his chair.

“Shut up!” Buzzro and Dax said in unison, turning toward the seat.

“How’d you of all people manage to get captured by this twerp?” Dax asked.

“Hey!” the hacker cut in.

“What part of shut up don’t you get, kid?” Sandrina asked.

She marched past Dax and Buzzro. Reaching the throne, she grabbed him by the ear. He let out a squeal as she pulled him back down to the ground.

“Oh, zip it, it doesn’t hurt that bad," Sandrina added.

“Where’s my partner?” Buzzro asked.

“The other sentry,” the hacker whimpered.

“You have a partner?” Dax asked.

“He’s the one who got us caught. He is very much fired after this,” Buzzro replied. “I don’t have one of those fancy helmets, as you can clearly see.” Buzzro motioned to his unclothed body. “Do you think you can cut my former apprentice out without killing him?” Buzzro offered the sword back to Dax.

“Yeah, I got it,” Dax said, taking the weapon. “Mark, can we get some lights on in here, please?”

“Can I at least wait until he gets some clothes on? It’s one thing to accidentally see everything in IR, it’s another in the horrifying light of day,” Mark replied.

“I’m not that horrifying to look at in this state,” Buzzro countered.

“You weren’t the one standing directly behind you when you climbed out of that robot,” Dax countered.

He gave Buzzro a playful pat on the shoulder while walking toward the other automaton.

“Seeing that black hole is something that will make a therapist very rich one day.”

Buzzro let out a frustrated groan. Dax tapped on the body of the other robot.

“Step back!” he shouted.

He quickly pushed the blade into the steel, cutting through it like a hot knife through butter. He pulled, slicing through the metal in a shower of sparks and a circular pattern. Once through, he pulled the weapon out and stepped back.

A thud sounded as the cutout hit the ground. Dax took a step back and raised his hand again while a Galio stepped out of the robot looking frustrated and embarrassed.

“He’s a Ken doll!” Mark shouted. “They gave him the Ken doll treatment.”

“Mark, stop looking,” Dax demanded. “You okay?”

“A little dehydrated, but good,” the Galio replied. “I’m looking forward to getting my hands on the Cyber Slasher.”

Silence fell over the room. Dax and Mark turned toward the young man Sandrina held in place by the ear. His face contorted in pain as his arms flailed around.

“You called yourself the Cyber Slasher?” Dax asked.

“Because I cut through any code,” the Cyber Slasher replied.

“Shows what kind of rank amateur you are,” Mark scoffed. “Hacker names are supposed to be one word. Something simple, punchy, memorable, that is it.”

“Yeah?” Dax asked. “And what was yours?”

“I chose to remain anonymous,” Mark replied.

Dax shook his head. He walked over to the Cyber Slasher and turned his suit’s lights on. The young man squinted and recoiled at the lights.

“Where are these guys’ clothes and gear?” Dax asked.

He remained silent. Sandrina took a deep breath and gave his ear a tiny twist. The hacker squealed, grabbing at his ear with one hand while pointing at his chair with the other.

“There’s a secret compartment inside the base of my throne. I was going to have them mounted as trophies,” the Cyber Slasher said.

Without needing to say a word, Mark was already at the throne, scanning it. After a few seconds, he reached down, pressed on the bottom panel and a drawer popped out.

“Seriously? That’s how you protect your possible trophies, a push drawer that isn’t even booby trapped?” Mark asked.

“He said boobie.” The Cyber Slasher giggled.

“How old are you, kid?” Dax asked.

“Thirteen,” he replied.

Mark gathered up the clothes and weapons. He walked them to Buzzro and his apprentice, distributing them to each.

“Okay, a couple things. One, for being so smart, you’re probably one of the dumbest kids I’ve ever met…”

“I’m smarter than most of you,” he countered.

Dax sheathed his sword and holstered his pistol. He walked over to the hacker and leaned forward until they were face to face, inches away.

“I don’t think you fully appreciate the gravity of this situation,” Dax countered. “We… were sent… to kill you!”

He spoke sarcastically slowly, emphasizing every word while motioning to the group at his back.

“Buzzro is the best bounty hunter and mercenary in the galaxy…”

“Then how’d I catch him if he’s so good?” the hacker interrupted.

“Because he’s not susceptible to toxins like I am, and he put his life in danger to ensure I didn’t die,” the Galio chimed in. “If I wasn’t here, he’d have killed all of you without breaking a sweat.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Buzzro huffed, putting his clothes on. “And have you heard of the Valtakuntera, kid?”

“Who hasn’t?” the hacker countered.

“Well, these people you’re looking at are the crew of a ship called the Junkyard. They’re not only being hunted by the entire empire, but that empire is actively scared of them.”

The hacker’s demeanor quickly changed. He swallowed hard before looking Dax square in the eye.

“I’m so sorry, please don’t kill me,” he whimpered.

“I’ll make you a deal. We won’t pull the trigger, but I’m not the one who makes that final call. Your best chance is pleading your case to Master Decombres. Beg for his mercy. You’re clearly skilled. Offer him your services and pray he takes you up on them,” Dax explained. “And don’t even think about taking one breath out of line, because if he spares you, it’ll be a one-time thing.”

Dax stood up and turned to see Buzzro and his apprentice, now clothed and armed. Mark summoned his holographic interface. With the press of a few buttons, the lights turned back on. Dax’s helmet shifted back to normal view automatically. Everyone without armor winced at the sudden light activation.

“There we go; now no one’s corneas will be burned out,” Mark mused.

“Come on, let’s get him out of here and back to Decombres,” Dax said.

Sandrina turned and walked toward the front door. Cyber Slasher walked with her, his body tilted unnaturally to alleviate the pain of her holding his ear. Dax followed, along with the rest of the group.

Mark’s virus completely shut down the building’s defenses. With the docile populace, they made their way through the streets with no issues. When they reached the elevators the Galio parted ways, remarking that he needed to find a mercenary to apprentice under with weaknesses like his own.

Everyone piled in. Without a word, they took their ride all the way up to Decombres’ office. Once inside, Sandrina released Cyber Slasher, who immediately fell to his knees in front of the caretaker.

“Please don’t kill me. I promise I won’t do anything against you ever again,” he whimpered.

Decombres looked at the sniveling pile on the ground and motioned toward him.

“Who is this?” Decombres asked.

“He’s the hacker who was giving you so much trouble,” Dax explained.

“And why is he breathing?”

“Because he’s only a year or two older than your daughter and we don’t kill kids,” Dax countered. “Besides, he’s clearly a skilled hacker, and you might have use for him in keeping order within your space station.”

“If he’s so good, how’d you beat him so easily?” Decombres asked.

“He’s good; I’m just better,” Mark replied. “But that’s not anything you should hold against him. He knows his stuff. I’m just the best this galaxy has to offer.”

“Then why am I not offering you the job?” Decombres asked.

“Because I’m an OGRE. I only work for the Junkyard.”

“I agree with my counterpart,” Buzzro chimed in. “This child would be an excellent asset to you.”

“I take it you don’t want me to kill him either?” Decombres asked.

“He steps out of line, by all means, off with his head,” Buzzro replied. “But he’s talented. It’d be a waste to lose such talent when you could repurpose it to strengthen your position.”

Decombres folded his hands in front of his face before nodding and looking at the hacker.

“What’s your name, boy?” he asked.

“With his affinity for putting living things into robots, I’m thinking his name is Eggman,” Dax replied.

17

GUILD

“Did you get them?” Henuva asked.

He limped from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist while a second was tied on the top of his head, keeping his hair from dripping. Dax paused halfway out of his armor and looked at the Valtukta. He fought back a smile and pointed toward the towel on his head.

“Nice get-up,” he teased.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Henuva asked.

“He means you look like a girl,” PITA called out from the kitchen.

“You can’t even see me,” Henuva countered.

“Am I wrong?”

Henuva rolled his eyes and shook his head. Dax finished getting his armor off and set it on its stand. He pulled off his shotgun along with the tiny bag their armorist provided them. It gave a soft metallic clatter.

“Upgraded, updated and all-around upper class,” Dax replied.

Henuva let go of the towel around his waist and grabbed the bag before quickly getting a hold of his covering once again.

“You sure these’ll work?” he asked.

“I mean, our toes are similar, so I’d think so. Only one way to find out,” Dax replied.

“Appreciate the grab,” Henuva said before limping toward his room.

“Any time,” Dax called back.

He looked at Jun, who was sitting in the cockpit, processing data and coordinating the communication channels for Tachyon and every group that served Decombres on the station.

“Is Dalia up yet?” he asked.

“She is brushing up on Valtukta biology in the lab. Do you want me to get her?”

“No, I don’t want to distract her,” Dax replied.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee to Kane’s level of strength led Dax to think Sandrina was the one brewing. Mark’s boasting about his quick and easy dispatch of the hacker’s entire system echoed from the kitchen through the ship. He looked at his shotgun, still covered in droplets of water.

“That won’t do,” he muttered to himself. “Jun, I’m going to get this thing cleaned up so it won’t rust.”

“Copy that. Bleeze has sent a message that he’s on his way and should be arriving in just a few minutes.”

“Thank you,” Dax said.

He made his way toward the ladder and climbed down. At the bottom he turned, freezing. He looked at Kane’s arsenal. Every weapon and crate was placed meticulously in its designated spot. Every inch of his supplies, down to the ammo reloader, could’ve passed a white glove test, unlike the rest of the ship.

Dax rubbed his bearded chin before walking over to a crate. Opening it, he grabbed the shotgun-cleaning kit. Pausing, he looked at the dozens of others, each labelled for the weapons they were meant to be used on.

“Every single one of these has the exact same components,” Dax muttered to himself.

He placed both the gun and the kit on a nearby bench and started to work.

“Knowing you, Kane, you’re probably haunting your stash. If I use the Fat Mac kit on this, it’ll blow up in my hand the next time I use it, won’t it?”

He paused for a second, smirking at the conversation he was having with himself.

“Of course it would,” he continued.

Grabbing a towel, he started to gently dry off the weapon. He made sure every drop and piece of carbon build-up was carefully removed. Grabbing the oil next, he soaked a second rag, just like Kane showed him, and started to coat the gun.

“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” Bleeze asked.

Without turning around, he heard the four-armed alien’s boots move onto the ramp.

“Just making sure this doesn’t rust on me,” Dax replied.

“Smart move. Kane’ll come back and put you down if you let anything happen to his babies,” Bleeze replied. “I have to say, you getting Decombres in line is impressive. Not many people can force him to see reason, let alone work with the Alcazar.”

“They’ve already started talking?” Dax asked.

“Psshh, you’d better believe it,” Bleeze replied. “We have two of the four big factions in this galaxy workin’ together now. They’ve already dedicated their resources to developing a way to communicate that not even Mark can crack into.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Dax scoffed.

He dragged the rag through one barrel before feeding it into another and slowly pulling it out again.

“They’d have to have some form of quantum entanglement device to pull something like that off.”

Bleeze stepped next to Dax and tapped him on the side with the back of his hand.

“Well, look at you, thinking three steps ahead. Fortunately, they’ve got some Valtakuntera scientist minds working on it too. Hopefully, we’ll hear something new in the next week or two.”

“We’ll see,” Dax said.

He snapped the gun shut and started to clean up the tools. Returning them to where they belonged, he held his shotgun by the handle and turned back to his former handler.

“Now what about that third faction?” he asked. “Are they going to join the cause too?”

“You know how things work in this galaxy. Nothing comes for free,” Bleeze said with a shrug.

“The job Sandrina warned us about?”

“I have to say, I tried to get them to give you a different job. Not that I don’t believe in you guys. I stand by what I said; If anyone can do it, it’s you. But it’s also incredibly dangerous.”

“Since when has that stopped us?” Dax asked.

“It’s so dangerous, Buzzro refused the job the first five times it was offered to him.”

Dax’s brow raised. He tilted his head to one side at the comment before crossing his arms.

“It’s that bad?” he asked.

Bleeze nodded.

“Well, we’ll need some extra muscle. See if you can’t get Ruthnar to join us with a few of his people,” Dax suggested.

“I will,” Bleeze said, pulling a puck from his pocket and offering it to Dax. “Sandrina’s going to fight you tooth and nail this entire job. Just be careful and watch your backs. The galaxy is actually starting to need you.”

Dax took the puck and inspected it closely; he couldn’t fight the grin spreading across his lips.

“Came a long way from garbage collectors,” he mused.

“That you did. Now don’t die; I’ve got a sizable bet on you.”

Dax gazed at the puck before looking back to his four-armed compatriot. He couldn’t help but crack a smile.

“How sizable of a bet?” he asked.

Bleeze shrugged, scratching at his lower back.

“Eh, let’s just say if you survive, I’ll be rich enough to buy a little star system of my own and retire on a beach somewhere,” Bleeze replied.

“Are you going to put up a ‘No Trespassing’ sign around the system?” Dax asked.

“Eh, I was thinking about taking a page out of Kane’s book and making it ‘Trespassers will be shot, survivors will be shot again’,” Bleeze replied.

“That does sound like something he’d’ve put up.”

Bleeze grabbed Dax’s wrist with one of his biological hands. He looked up at Dax, his normal, borderline conniving, expression replaced with one of genuine concern.

“Look, kid, I’m wanting the guild on your side as much as anyone. I’ll throw every asset I have into this muck with you. It’s a drop in the bucket, sure, but it’s better than nothing.”

Bleeze held Dax’s gaze. His brow furrowed and frown lines deepened as he spoke.

“I love you guys like you were my own kin. You get there and something doesn’t seem right, just turn around and leave. It’s not worth it trying to get on the side of a group who you’re just an asset to.” He let go of Dax’s arm and shrugged once more. “That, and you’re the only ones pushing this whole fight with the Valtakuntera forward. You guys bite the big one and this whole thing falls apart.”

“I’m glad you’re so worried about us,” Dax chuckled.

“I’m serious, kid,” Bleeze replied, his countenance darkening. “This ain’t about the Valtakuntera for me. I mean, if you survive, it will be. Until you get back, it’s about your safety. I need you to promise me…”

Dax gripped the puck tightly. He nodded before offering Bleeze a hand.

“Things smell too fishy, we’ll get out before you can say ‘this smells fishy’,” Dax replied.

Bleeze grabbed Dax’s hand and gave it a firm shake.

“Sounds like a deal. Now, don’t let me slow you down. You’ve got work to do!”

Bleeze released Dax’s hand. He turned and walked toward the back of the ship, throwing his hands up as he spoke.

“You’re getting soft, old man,” Dax shouted back to him. “You used to point guns at me under tables and now you’re all worried? What’s the rest of the galaxy going to think when they find out?”

“They won’t,” Bleeze countered, not turning around. “And if you tell anyone, I’m going to deny it to my dying breath.”

“Love you too, big guy,” Dax teased.

“Ah, shut up,” Bleeze replied.

He disappeared around the side of the ship. Dax looked at the puck in his hand for a few seconds. He tossed and caught it a few times before pressing the center. A holographic image of a star system he’d never seen before flickered to life in his palm.

“This is the system designated Artemis Tau. A survey vessel several years ago discovered technology buried there that’s ancient, and far more advanced than any other race in the galaxy.”

The voice was down pitched by a modulator, making Dax roll his eyes.

“Come on, I’m not going to be recognizing you by your voice,” he muttered.

“Since its discovery, we’ve sent a half dozen teams to retrieve a sample of the technology for study. All ships who’ve landed planetside have gone dark and haven’t been heard from again.”

The hologram zoomed into the center world of the five-planet system. A small red dot appeared on one of the continents in the northern hemisphere. Zooming in, it highlighted a small mountain range.

“This will be your landing site. The entrance to the anomaly is on the side of this mountain with the detected technology roughly two hundred feet below the surface. Get as much as you can and deliver it to our contact on the Alcazar. They will find you.”

The hologram cut off. Dax stared at the puck for a few minutes before shaking his head.

“No, we’re not landing there,” he muttered. “If no one else survived and you sent them all to that same spot, it stands to reason that’s a real dumb place to land.”

As he talked to himself, he walked to the back of the ship and activated the ramp’s closing mechanism. He made his way back to the main deck before approaching Jun and handing her the puck.

“Heavily encrypted data with a seventy-two-hour deletion cycle ingrained and three hours left on that cycle. What is this?” she asked, looking at the puck.

“It’s a way to get the guild on our side,” Dax replied.

“I’m noticing indications that it’s been opened twice,” Jun replied.

“One by me. My guess is one by Bleeze so he could give Ruthnar our location for backup.”

“Is that the place nobody comes back from?” Sandrina asked from the dining hall doorway.

“Yes,” Dax said, looking back at her. “Right now, we’re just going to take a look. If things get too dicey, we turn and leave, no questions, landing or judgments.”

“Then why even go in the first place?” Sandrina asked.

“Because the guild’s numbers, weapons and dumb AI increase our chances of success by a notable two point five percent,” Jun replied.

“That doesn’t seem like enough to risk ourselves on,” Sandrina countered.

“It may not seem so, but I’ve run previous missions by this crew to check against our previous chances of success. Onthe OGRE’s first mission on Dal’no’nuuur, the presence of Dalia’s father increased their likelihood of success by less than one percent.”

“And without him, the mission wouldn’t have been a success,” Dax countered. “He died, but if he wasn’t there to save my life, we all would’ve died down there and Dal’no’nuuur would’ve remained a barren wasteland. Two point five is more than enough to at least check in on. I don’t expect you to step foot off the ship, just accompany us.”

“Fine,” Sandrina relented. “But one wrong blow of the wind and we’re gone.”

“Fair enough,” Dax agreed.

18

NEW SPACE

Dax stood in the doorway of the medical bay. Dalia sat at the desk, looking through a microscope. He took in her strong yet delicate features. She ran a finger through her hair, pushing it behind the ear, facing Dax while flashing a smile without looking up.

“You’re doing that on purpose,” Dax mused.

“You better believe I am.” She giggled, not looking up from her work.

“Find anything interesting in your Valtukta studies?” Dax asked.

“Yes, actually,” Dalia replied, keeping her eyes on her work.

“The similarities between your body and theirs are remarkable.”

“Really? Like how similar?”

“If Sandrina’s lessons are right, suggests the possibility of a common ancestor,” Dalia replied.

“Yeah, not a thing. The Scientologists aren’t allowed to be…” Dax trailed off.

“Why so quiet? Did my beauty stun you into silence?” Dalia teased.

“Your beauty stuns me into a bunch of things,” Dax replied. “But they might be listening, and I don’t want to incur their wrath.”

“Who? The Valtakuntera?” Dalia asked.

“No, so much worse, the Scientologists. If I say something bad about them, Tom Cruise may show up and start screaming in my face. Actually, more accurately my mid-chest, but still, no one likes being yelled at, even by a leprechaun.”

“I think you may be going down what Mark would call a rabbit trail, my Battle Bonded,” Dalia said, keeping her eyes on her work.

“Right, sorry, we’re genetically similar. That’s interesting, although humans and bananas share about sixty percent of the same genetic markers and you’ve seen what those things look like,” Dax explained. “I’m sure if we took a sample from you and Sandrina, we’d see something similar. Five fingers, five toes, similar eye and body configurations. That means we’ve got more similarities than not. Maybe that’s just how life was meant to be.”

“Maybe,” Dalia replied. “I do have to say, though, I’m a little bummed I missed the Tachyon job, but I do thank you for letting me sleep. I needed it.”

“You didn’t miss anything, just a comedy of errors,” Dax replied. “Between the explosion, flooding and my bandolier going up like the roman candle from hell, it would’ve just been as a spectator.”

“I don’t know about that. I heard Buzzro Shrod gave quite the show.”

Dax shuddered while shaking his head.

“That is going to be branded into my brain until the day that I die,” Dax countered. “It’s not a show anyone should’ve ever seen.”

“I don’t doubt it. Sandrina seems on edge about our next job. What is it?” Dalia asked.

“Bleeze gave us some work on technology retrieval.”

“Seems simple enough.”

“It’s at a location where six other guild teams have vanished.”

Dalia immediately stopped her work. She sat up and turned toward him. Her usual flirty expression dropped.

“Dax,” she said softly.

“I know, we’re not going to be… well, me about it,” he explained, still leaning against the doorframe. “Firstly, we’re going to scan the area on approach. Secondly, we’re not going to land where the guild is telling us to land, and thirdly, Bleeze reached out to Ruthnar for backup. Anything even smells off, we’re out.”

“The guild will want something worse to have us join them,” Dalia replied.

“Maybe, but chances are when the fan that gets hit, they’re not going to have a choice but to join,” Dax replied. “It’d just be better, if possible, they’re in the fight from the jump.”

She took a deep breath before letting out a sigh.

“I promise, we’re taking the Dal’no approach on this one,” Dax reassured.

“Okay, but I’m on the ground with you this time,” she ordered.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Dax cracked a smile. He pushed off the doorframe and walked over to her, his arms still crossed. She turned toward him and leaned forward.

“I like it when you call me ma’am, professor,” she said.

Dax leaned down and gave her a gentle kiss.

“I like it when you call me professor,” he whispered, his lips barely touching hers. “You sure you’re okay with this?”

She nodded, giving him another kiss. Her touch sent a chill down his spine he never got bored of having. She pulled away, gently placing a hand on his cheek.

“Yes, because I can tell you’re taking it seriously,” she replied.

“Really?” he asked.

She nodded.

“You said first, second, third, not the usual firstly, B, and tertiary like you usually do.”

“Look who’s super insightful.” Dax chuckled.

“Of course I am. Now get out of here.” She gave him a playful push. “I have work to do, and if you don’t leave, I’ll be an hour or two behind.”

“Fun killer,” Dax teased.

He unfolded his arms, ran a hand down her back and gave Dalia a kiss on the head.

“I’ll see you later,” he said.

As he turned to walk away, Dalia gave him a pat on the rear. He turned back to her with a raised eyebrow.

“You’d better believe you will,” she said.

With a wink and blowing a kiss, Dalia went back to work. Dax left the medical bay. PITA stood directly to his right, staring at him.

“You two d…”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Dax interrupted the robotic dog.

“What? I was going to say do the responsible thing and keep each other up to date on the critical status of the mission,” PITA replied.

“Mmmhmmm,” Dax countered. “Sure you were.”

“Don’t be the gray sprinkle in the Funfetti cupcake,” PITA grumbled.

“I’m rubber, you’re glue, whatever you say to me bounces off of me and sticks to you,” Dax countered.

“That sounds like a ‘you’ problem,” PITA countered.

“At least I’m not so ugly I make a Happy Meal cry.”

“Maybe, but at least I don’t bring joy to every room that I exit,” PITA said.

Dax pointed to the cockpit.

“If I throw a stick, will you leave?” he asked.

PITA’s eyes turned to swirling spheres as if trying to load. Dax cracked a smile and leaned forward.

“Did I… did I just out diss you?” Dax asked.

“Uh, no, I’m just…”

“Oh, my goodness, I did! Mark, I just out insulted your spicy level!” Dax shouted.

His voice echoed throughout the ship, only for Mark’s to respond in a cheer.

“Yeah, well at least I don’t have a face for radio!” PITA belted.

“Psshh, I’m adorable,” Dax countered.

PITA’s head lowered. He let out a frustrated growl.

“You’re right, and I can’t even make you’re so dumb jokes because those would obviously be a fallacy and open me up to yet another kill shot!”

PITA turned to walk away, his nub turned upside down, ears folded back and head hung.

“Don’t be sad,” Dax called out. “You’ve beaten all of us so many times, it was only a matter of time before one of us got a leg up on you.”

“Yeah, I was expecting Mark, or Dalia, or someone clever, but you?” PITA asked.

“It could be worse, it could’ve been Henuva,” Dax replied.

“Hey, I heard that,” Henuva shouted from his room.

“Every cloud has a silver lining, I guess,” PITA said.

As the robotic corgi turned to trot away, Dax turned toward Henuva’s room. He followed the sounds of uneven clanking before pulling the partially opened door all the way.

Henuva stood in the center of his room. He held his pants up while inspecting his new toes. The metal wiggled, each joint articulated like a normal appendage.

“They work out okay?” Dax asked.

“They’re a little bit short,” Henuva said.

He put his feet together. The artificial toes were an eighth of an inch smaller than his biological ones.

“But it’s not affecting balance or causing a limp, so I’m not going to complain.”

Dax pointed at the length disparity. He tilted his head to the side while inspecting the cybernetics.

“That’s good to hear. Does this mean we need to get you a slightly smaller shoe for that foot, though?” Dax asked.

Henuva let out a sarcastic laugh while giving Dax an unamused look.

“Someone’s got jokes today.”

“I am being partially serious,” Dax replied.

“How partially?”

“Five, ten percent?”

“That’s a big jump,” Henuva countered.

“Fine,” Dax relented. “Four and a half.”

“That much of a difference isn’t going to be an issue on the field,” Henuva reassured Dax. “It’s not like my foot’s going to be sliding all over the place in my boot.”

“Okay, but if it does, you’re grounded until you get the boot adjusted,” Dax explained.

“Sounds like a deal. I overheard we’re going someplace a little dangerous. Want to loop me in?”

“It’s a mission for the guild to get them on side. They want us to retrieve technology from the site of an ancient civilization and bring it to a contact on the Alcazar, but no one that’s gone there has come back.”

Henuva’s brow raised. He let out a nervous exhale while putting his hands on his hips.

“Ah, suicide mission. Those… those never get old,” he added with a forced laugh.

“We’re meeting Ruthnar there. We’re going to have plenty of backup and Sandrina’s staying on the ship. There’s room for one more on the ground team.”

Henuva scoffed and shook his head.

“Did you get the black tank done?” Dax asked.

“I’ll face almost certain death,” Henuva said, nearly cutting Dax off. “I’ll be right there on the ground with you.”

“We’re doing this safely and by Kane’s book. Things look fishy, we get out.”

“Even if that means no guild?” Henuva asked.

“Eh, I’m sure we can find something to replace them.”

“Like what?” Henuva chuckled.

“Well, there is that Leviathan that hangs out around Earth. We can always bait a few fleets right into that thing’s mouth,” Dax suggested.

“Yeah, like Dalia’s going to let you risk that again,” Henuva countered.

“If it weakens the empire, why not?” Dax asked, backing toward the open door. “We almost have the numbers. Once we do, it’s straight for the empress.”

“Yeah, that’ll be easy. No one even knows what the woman looks like.”

Dax paused at the comment. His head tilted to one side as his brow furrowed.

“I’m sorry, what?” he asked.

“There’s only, like, twenty people in the entire empire that know what she looks like. Everyone else that sees her face…”

Henuva drew a line across his neck with his fingertip.

“What is she, Kim Jong Un?”

“Don’t know who that is, but she never leaves her throne room, and any time there’s an event where she does have to leave it, she’s in the most advanced armor this galaxy’s ever seen.”

“More advanced than Boronian?” Dax asked.

Henuva’s face scrunched.

“Eh, second most advanced armor this galaxy’s ever seen.”

“You’re telling me that she can literally be anyone in the Valtakuntera, and we wouldn’t know?”

“Could even be me,” Henuva jested.

Dax’s eyes narrowed. He looked Henuva up and down for a few seconds before shaking his head.

“Nah, you have a more middle management vibe than any real leadership,” he teased.

“Ouch, you wound me, good sir.”

“What can I say, I’m on a kick today!”

Dax kicked his leg out in front of him before doing a Michael Jackson spin, stopping once he faced the door and danced out of the room.

“I’m telling Dalia she needs to take your spicy levels down a few points,” Henuva called after him.

19

PLAN A

The leap drive wound down. Its thrum and vibration died while Mark pulled back the accelerator at the controls. A solar system rushed toward them, comprising five planets.

With a few flicks of his fingers, Mark slowed the ship to a manageable speed while entering the system. He approached the center world while Dax started to put his armor on. Sandrina paced impatiently. Her eyes locked on their target while each breath was short and shallow.

“This is a bad idea,” she whispered.

“So you’ve said, but we’ve got Boronian weapons,” Dalia replied, hoisting her hammer over her shoulder. “They may be melee, but they’re the best in use in the galaxy.”

“You don’t know what we’re going to face down there,” Sandrina countered.

“That’s why Bleeze called for help,” Dax said.

He pointed toward the viewport. Hovering over the planet was a massive vessel with an OGRE skull and silver handprint painted over the Broken Shield emblem.

“Sorry I didn’t come alone, guys,” Ruthnar’s voice crackled over the radio. “After hearing about the history of this place, I decided to bring some heavier fire power and extra support in case we need it.”

“Oh, you’ll need it,” Sandrina called out.

“Sandrina, that you?” Ruthnar asked.

“Yes, it is,” Henuva said.

He entered the main deck, getting the last pieces of his armor on while compacting his spear and clipping it to his side.

“How long has she been playing the doom and gloom card?” the Dracolich asked.

“Since we started this particular leg of our misadventure,” Mark chimed in.

“It is a valid conclusion based on previous history and the evidence presented,” Sandrina countered.

“Is this the evidence you were talking about?” Ruthnar asked.

A beep sounded across the controls. Jun, who sat on her main deck charger, stood up and disconnected before walking to Mark’s side. She accepted the incoming data.

An image of the landing pad the puck highlighted for them to land on sported six abandoned ships, one in complete disrepair. The pad led to a tunnel that burrowed into the side of a mountain covered in a thin layer of snow.

“Is that all you could got?” Jun asked.

Dax grabbed his helmet, flipping it over. A crudely made bandolier sat curled up inside. He looked at Dalia. She flashed him a smile and shrugged. He mouthed ‘Thank you.’ She replied with a silent ‘You’re welcome.’

“Unfortunately, there’s something under the mountain surface that’s blocking out scanners. We hit it from every possible angle we could and got nothing but a blanket.”

“Let me give it a try,” Jun countered.

She leaned forward. The soft buzz of the scanners danced through the ship. Dax pulled the bandolier out and slung it over one shoulder before clipping his helmet on, muting the slightly annoying noise.

“Hmm,” Jun said.

“Good hmm or bad hmm?” Mark asked.

“Just hmm,” Jun replied. “It appears Ruthnar’s scans are correct. I can’t punch through whatever’s blocking his scanners either.”

“Not good,” Sandrina chimed in.

“Enough of the negativity, Sandrina. We’re going down there. You can stay on the ship with Jun and PITA.”

“Are you kidding me?” PITA asked from his charger. “I’m not staying on this thing. I’m going into the field with every single one of you because you never know when you could use a flame-throwing robo-dog.”

Everyone fell silent. Glances moved from one crew member to the next. Ruthnar cleared his throat.

“You do know this channel is just audio, right? I can’t see what you’re doing,” he said. “What are you doing?”

“Debating if the flame-throwing robo-dog will be a liability given his history of unpredictability,” Dax replied.

“Oh, come on, I’m not that unpredictable,” PITA countered. “When the chips are down and it’s mission time, I think I’ve proven twice that I’m more than capable of being an asset.”

“I mean, he did hold the Dal’no shield single-handedly,” Dalia replied.

“And if it weren’t for his feral nature, Tylira likely would’ve gotten away,” Mark added.

Dax looked at the corgi, whose tail ticked back and forth like the pendulum of a grandfather clock.

“Fine,” he relented. “With how dangerous this place apparently is, though, if you go off script, there will be consequences.”

“Like what? Spray me with a water bottle?” PITA scoffed. “I’m waterproof and can’t feel it. It’s not like you have a kennel here to put me in either.”

“I was more thinking take away the bear trap jaw and give you your old mouth back,” Dax explained. “I was going to say cap off the flame thrower, but that’s a little too useful.”

PITA let out a disappointed growl.

“I wasn’t going to go ‘off script,’ as you put it. But if it helps, I promise that I won’t.”

“Good. Now, Ruthnar, are you coming to us, or are we coming to you?” Dax asked.

“With so many unknowns, it may be better to leave the carrier in space and take a single, smaller ship to the surface,” Ruthnar replied. “I’m coming to you.”

“How do you plan on doing that?” PITA asked.

“I figured I’d take a page out of Dax’s book and just launch myself at your airlock.”

Dax turned and walked quickly toward the kitchen.

“Yeah, but you do know he’s insane, right?” Dalia asked. “Why not just take a smaller ship over?”

Dax reached the booth. He grabbed the cushion and pulled it off.

“Because, where’s the fun in that?” Ruthnar asked.

Dax leaned in and opened the internal door.

“Incoming,” Ruthnar announced.

“Give me a second!” Dax shouted.

The hiss of an airlock sounded over the ship’s radio. Dax grunted and climbed into theirs before shutting it behind him.

“How far out are you?” Dax asked.

“Three kilometers and closing,” Ruthnar replied.

Dax started to initiate the oxygen vacuums while locking the inner door.

“How fast are you going?”

“Kilometer and a half,” Ruthnar announced.

“Absolute mad lad.” Dax chuckled.

He activated the magnets in his boots, clamping him to the side. Punching the red emergency open button, the air around him was violently sucked out, his bandolier nearly pulled free in the process.

“Half a kilometer,” Ruthnar replied.

Dax deactivated his boots. He pushed off the wall and drifted past the seal. Grabbing the edge, he looked up to see Ruthnar flying toward him at breakneck speed.

“Sandrina, how up to date are you on Dracolich anatomy?” Dax asked.

“Not very, why?” she replied.

Dax extended his left hand, activated his boots once more and opened his fingers as much as he could. He fought against the pull as Ruthnar’s trajectory shifted straight toward him.

A scream left the mercenary leader’s mouth just before he crashed into Dax. The armor took all of the force of their impact. Both men tumbled back. Dax’s magnetic boots flipped their bodies back into the airlock. He deactivated them, sending them both crashing into the opposing wall.

They both drifted in silence for a few seconds. Dax reached out and pressed the close button. As the outer door shut, he gave Ruthnar a pat on the back.

“You dead?” he asked.

“At this point, I’m wishing I was,” he groaned. “You do that for fun?”

“No, I don’t do it for fun. I’ve only done it when it was absolutely necessary,” Dax countered.

“An argument could be made that both times you’ve pulled that stunt, not only was it not necessary, it was downright reckless,” Dalia’s voice crackled over the radio. “And not well thought out.”

A hiss sounded as the room refilled with oxygen. Dax grabbed the internal door, unlocked it and pushed it open. He climbed out and back into artificial gravity. Ruthnar followed closely behind. Dax gave him a hand before shutting the door behind them.

“Well, was it fun?” Dax asked.

“Yes, but not worth the bruised rib I think I got from your knee,” Ruthnar groaned.

“I didn’t hit you that hard,” Dax argued.

“You didn’t hit me at all, I hit you! Don’t worry, I’m still mission ready, though.”

Dalia stepped into the kitchen. She looked at Ruthnar with her arms crossed.

“Is that something you want to do again?” she asked.

“Absolutely not,” Ruthnar replied.

Dalia turned her attention to Dax. She raised a judgmental eyebrow. Dax shrugged at the expression.

“What?”

“He only had to do it once to realize he didn’t want to do it again,” she teased.

“Yeah, but I’d like to point out, this one was for fun. Mine was trying to get a bounty hunter off our tail and then trying to kill Tylira once and for all. It’s not something I planned to do, and I’m not planning to do it again,” Dax contested. “We’ve been through this. I promise not to jump out of a ship again.”

“I know, but repetition will make it stick,” she said, cracking a wry smile.

“Now that you Evel Knievel wannabees are in the ship, you guys want to come up here and tell us exactly where we’re landing?” Mark shouted back.

“Who’s Evel Knievel?” Sandrina asked.

“Human stuntman,” Henuva replied.

Dax, Ruthnar and Dalia made their way back to the main deck.

“Typically, I would say he was insane, but after the…” Henuva snapped his fingers. “What is the word I’m looking for?”

“Shenanigans?” Mark asked.

Dax instinctively drew his pistol, held it by the barrel and offered it to Henuva.

“Ohhhh!” he said.

“You’re talking about shenanigans, right?” Mark asked again.

Henuva looked at the pistol, then at Dax with a furrowed brow.

“Put that away,” he ordered.

Mark and Dax looked at each other. Wide smiles beamed across their faces.

“He said it!” Mark wheezed.

“Said what?” Henuva asked in confusion. “I just told him to put his gun away.”

“It’s an absolute classic,” Dax replied with a wave of his hand while holstering the pistol. “Don’t worry about it. Anyway, what were you saying?”

“I was going to say that he was insane, but a while ago I came to the conclusion that it’s just a part of their species’ underlying proclivities.”

“Eh, only those who are adventurous,” Mark replied.

“You haven’t done anything like that,” Sandrina chimed in.

“I was a teen hacker that lived in my mom’s basement and only saw the sun when I absolutely had to. I am by no means adventurous. I just get dragged along by this joker.”

Mark motioned to Dax.

“This is where I’d usually argue with you on that front, but we’ve got a mission to conduct and an empire to overthrow.” Dax clapped his gloved hands together before rubbing them and motioning toward the map Jun had on a display. “I see you managed to get a snapshot from the puck before it deleted.”

He walked over to the display and pointed a half-mile away from the landing pad.

“I was thinking we drop there,” Dax suggested.

Ruthnar approached. He looked at the image. With a slide of his finger, he rotated the 3D model before shaking his head.

“It looks like it’d be downhill, that’s partially true, but the most straightforward path has a climb,” Ruthnar countered. “We want to save our energy. How about over here?”

He motioned to a peak on the other side of the landing platform.

“There’s not a spot for the ship to set down, but we can jump out the back. It’s all downhill from there,” Ruthnar paused and looked at Sandrina. “Literally, not metaphorically.”

“And how do you plan on a quick escape when everything goes sideways?” Sandrina asked.

“Easy,” Mark chimed in. “I’m going to hack into those ships and get them warmed up. If things go sideways, it’s a quick escape. If things go real sideways, Jun can just pull up to the landing pad, we run into the cargo bay, and the ships fly into that hole, crash into whatever is bad and detonate.”

“You humans like seeing things blow up way too much,” Dalia muttered.

“Only because it’s pretty,” Dax countered, flashing her a wide grin. “And it’s one of the things you find endearing about me.”

20

APPROACH

Dax’s fingers ran over his shotgun shells, ensuring they were securely in his bandolier. He peered over the cargo bay’s ledge as the wind whipped around him. Snow swirled on the ground twenty feet below. His HUD highlighted a solid spot for him to land.

“Ready?” Dax asked.

Without a word, Ruthnar rushed past him and jumped. Dax let out a groan as the Dracolich’s trajectory was marked red on his display. Ruthnar impacted. In a puff of white powder, he vanished into the snow, followed by letting out a grunt over the radio.

“That didn’t go as expected,” Ruthnar called back.

“If you’d given me more than a split second, I would’ve showed you where the snow drift wasn’t,” Dax called down.

He jumped, landing on the solid patch before turning toward the man-shaped hole in the snow. Dalia landed with her hammer strapped to her back and Fat Mac in hand.

“How stuck are you?” she asked.

“I’m venting excess armor heat,” Ruthnar replied. “I’ll be unstuck in a second or two.”

Dax waded through the snowbank, quickly getting waist deep. Henuva landed with PITA under one arm and his hybrid rifle in the other.

“I can melt the snow,” PITA chimed in.

“Don’t burn up your fuel just yet,” Mark called down.

He jumped down with his staff as Jun remotely shut the cargo bay and pulled away from the mountain top. Dax reached the hole and looked in. Steam danced out of the hole while Ruthnar pulled his arms free from the imprint he’d made.

“What made you think pulling a Wile E. Coyote was a good idea?” Dax asked.

“Who is that?” Ruthnar asked.

“Someone who tends to put a him-shaped hole in the ground just like you did,” Mark chimed in.

Ruthnar pushed off the ground. Dax extended a hand, helping the Dracolich to his feet.

“I’ve been cautious my entire life; it’s slowly grown my mercenary group. It’s gotten us somewhat where I’d like us to be. But you, you throw yourself headlong into situations, think on the fly, not plan for months and months,” he said.

Ruthnar pulled against Dax, getting to his feet. The last of the snow melted, then sizzled off his armor.

“Look at you, in a position no other being in all of history has been in. Poised to take down a galactic tyrant. Nothing I could’ve done if you gave me a thousand years. I think it’s time more people in this universe take more pages out of humanity’s playbook.”

Mark stifled a laugh, wheezed, then started coughing. Dax glanced over at the young man who punched at his chest with a clang of metal on metal.

“Sorry, wrong pipe,” he wheezed.

Ruthnar’s head tilted to one side.

“What’s that about?” the Dracolich asked.

“Oh, our species has a bad history of trying to just wipe everybody out,” Dax replied. “We’ve gotten better, but there’re still undertones there. If we were to spread out right now, we’d end up being so much worse than the Valtakuntera.”

“You aren’t,” Ruthnar replied.

He stepped through the snow, rejoining the team.

“In small numbers, we’re not bad, but large enough, we tend to consume everything,” Dax replied.

“Like ants,” Mark added.

“Or locusts,” PITA added.

Ruthnar pushed to the front of the group shouldering his weapon.

“Well then, let’s just hope your good influence spreads,” Ruthnar replied. “I’ll take point.”

“Copy that; I’ll take the rear,” Dax replied. “Dalia, you good for the middle?”

The Dal’no nodded, double-checking the weapon’s breech.

“Mark, you’re in second position. PITA, you’re with Henuva. If we get ambushed, between the three of us, a shield should cover everyone.”

“What do you mean, should?” Henuva asked.

“Eh, I mean, you’ll probably be fine,” Dalia teased.

“Probably?” the Valtukta asked.

With a pat on Henuva’s back, Dax motioned toward Ruthnar, who’d already started down the snowy mountain path. Dalia raised her rifle, scanning their left, Henuva to the right.

Dax followed; he drew his pistol while keeping an eye on his bracer. The holographic overlay highlighted his allies, showing nothing unseen around them. Every ten feet, he turned and looked behind them.

“How are we looking back there?” Ruthnar asked.

“Like it’s a winter wonderland,” Dax replied.

“Let’s just hope there’s no Krampus or Tomte,” Mark replied.

“What are those?” Dalia asked.

“You remember the dead spaceship?” Dax asked.

“Hard to forget,” Henuva chimed in.

“Yeah, it’d be better to face those things again than a Krampus or a Tomte,” Dax explained. “There are fates worse than fungal zombification.”

Ruthnar led them down a shallow, narrow embankment. Dalia turned her back against the wall and scooted across the narrow ledge. PITA trotted across with Henuva cautiously following.

Dax stopped at the ledge. He looked down. Two hundred feet below, he could barely make out the landing platform through the swirls of snow kicked up by the wind.

“It’s times like this I’m happy our armor weighs so much,” he said.

A tingle surged through his lower stomach and below. He swallowed hard before taking a deep breath.

“Let’s just hope the ledges hold,” Mark replied.

A surge of static rushed through Dax’s body at the comment. Every muscle tightened at the suggestion. He let out a groan and shook his head.

“You had to say that?” he asked.

“What’s the matter, Dax? You have a thing about heights?” Ruthnar asked.

“If my armor can’t protect me from it? Yeah,” Dax replied.

“After everything you’ve been through, that’s what you’re scared of?” Ruthnar chuckled.

“You should see him when a clown shows up,” Mark chimed in.

“What’s wrong with clowns?” Ruthnar asked.

Dax inched his way onto the ledge and carefully made his way along with his team. His heart hammered against his sternum and his mouth turned to cotton. He focused on moving one foot, then the other, keeping his mind from focusing on the distance between himself and the ground.

“They’re demon spawn and from the deepest pockets of hell,” Dax replied.

“That’s not a fair assessment,” Mark countered.

“How else do you explain them being able to cram so many into such a small car?” Dax asked.

“They make kids smile.”

“Tell that to John Wayne Gacy,” Dax said. “Or Pennywise.”

He shimmied across the ledge. His toes still had a few inches to work with, allowing him to keep on top of his shallow, uneven breaths.

“That’s one instance and a fictional character. I dare you to name one more,” Mark countered.

“Paul Carlock Jr., Martin Evanick, the 2016/2026/2083 and 2102 clown sightings and all their mayhem… need I go on?” Dax asked.

Mark remained silent while Ruthnar reached a turn and cautiously rounded the corner.

“Does that mean he proved his point?” PITA asked. “Because I think that means he proved his point.”

“He proved his point,” Mark conceded.

Pieces of ice and stone cracked under the weight of their boots. It sent debris tumbling into the crevasses below. Dax took another deep breath, watching the shards fall to recenter himself. The tingling grew worse; he pressed forward.

“Dax, your breathing is drowning out the mountain top snowstorm,” Henuva said. “Get a little control.”

“That’s what he’s doing,” Dalia chimed in. “Leave him be.”

“I appreciate the backup, my dear, but to be honest, the berating is helping me concentrate,” Dax replied. “Show me what you got.”

“Oh, I was made for this,” PITA cackled. “I would say you’re the human version of a participation trophy, but that’d be an insult to participants. There are times I believe that you’re the reason they put instructions on toilet paper. I bet you’re the kind of person who’d try to pet a cactus just because someone told you it was fuzzy. You’re like a software update, always popping up at the worst time!”

PITA stopped and let out a frustrated snarl.

“Why didn’t I think of that when we ran into Tylira last? That would’ve been perfect!” the robo-dog growled to himself.

Dax stifled a laugh. The string of insults caused his nerves to partially relax, allowing them to pick up pace.

“I have to admit, I’m somewhat confused. I’ve never heard of someone who’s willing to go face to face with monsters, yet is scared of a little distance from the ground,” Ruthnar chimed in.

“Or people who have their face painted bright colors with a wide smile,” Mark added.

“He sounds right to be scared of them,” Henuva said. “Those sound terrifying!”

“Only the crazy ones,” Mark added.

“To me, it sounds like you aren’t able to tell which one is the crazy one,” Dalia added.

“You can’t, and that’s what’s so terrifying about them,” Dax added.

“I thought we were doing an insult run, not going back to clowns,” PITA huffed. “You all are no fun.”

The wind whipped violently, sending a gust of snow directly into their faces, causing a blinding sheet of white to overtake their view. Dax leaned back, pressing his suit against the wall behind him as the rest of the team swayed slightly. His HUD sensors flickered off, no longer having visual information to draw on.

“Seems like a fun ride to me,” Dax grunted.

“Only if you fall,” PITA added.

“Not going to happen,” Ruthnar said. “We’ve made it to the landing platform.”

He stepped off the narrow ledge and onto a flat surface. Mark was quick to follow, accompanied by Dalia, then Henuva. Dax stepped off last, the pit in his gut quickly vanishing after standing on solid ground.

As the gust died down, silhouettes of the abandoned ships became visible for a few seconds. Mark immediately held out his staff and started scanning. Dax turned his attention to his bracer’s augmented reality projection. They were still clear.

“Guys, it looks like a storm is picking up,” Jun’s voice crackled over the radio. “It seems to have come out of nowhere. I can hold position to pick you up, but I’ll likely have to fall back within the next thirty minutes at most.”

“Copy that,” Dax replied. “This’ll be quick; just be ready to grab us.”

“Will do,” Jun replied.

“See, I told you this was a bad idea,” Sandrina’s voice called out from the background.

“Maybe I’m not the only one who needs to work on breathing exercises,” Dax said.

Dax stepped forward, passing the team and joining Ruthnar at the entrance of the landing pad. A large tunnel burrowed into the side of the mountain, giving the illusion of an endless void.

“Mark, prep the ships if they’re still operational,” Dax ordered. “PITA, join him for support. Dalia, Henuva, secure the landing pad and see if you can find any evidence showing what happened to the other parties.”

Dax drew his sword before raising his pistol, aiming it into the dark.

“Ruthnar and I will hold this position and ensure nothing tries to come out here.”

Mark rushed toward the ships. Their lights turned on, adding a new level of blindness to the already thick sheet of white. Henuva let out a grunt.

“Sorry,” Mark called out. “Sorry, my bad. Ships were easy to access… a little too easy, and ready to roll.”

“How easy?” Dalia asked.

“The digital version of breathing on it and they all turned on.”

A lump filled Dax’s throat. He looked at Ruthnar whose helmet made him look like a metal dragon.

“I don’t like that,” Dax said.

“Me either,” Ruthnar replied.

“Oh, we don’t have to worry too much about it,” Mark chimed in. “I’ve already uploaded a pre-written virus that’ll make the power cores melt down if anyone tries to access any parts of the system without my staff in the immediate vicinity.”

21

SPACE CSI

“Um, Dax, you may want to come look at this,” Mark called out.

Dax kept his eyes on the dark tunnel in front of him, his pistol raised while the mountainous winds buffeted his suit with snow.

“What do you got?” Dax asked.

“It’ll be easier to show you,” Mark replied.

“Go,” Ruthnar said with a twitch of his head. “I can hold this.”

“Copy that,” Dax replied, lowering his pistol. “On my way.”

“Third ship to your current right,” Mark called out.

Dax turned and followed Mark’s instructions. He reached a dropship large enough for half a dozen people and stepped in from the back. Mark stood in the cockpit, past the rows of chairs that faced each other and an empty weapon rack. PITA faced the controls, his ears rotating slowly.

“What is it?” Dax asked.

Mark pointed to the pilot’s seat. Dax marched forward; with a glance over his shoulder, he noticed a scorch mark on the metal just above the onboarding ramp. He looked at the chair. Old, discolored blood stained the seat. A pistol lay between the seat and hull. Leaning forward, he inspected the pistol. He’d seen several hooligans wielding the same kind at Bleeze’s hideout.

Dax holstered his weapon. Reaching out, he grabbed it and inspected the gun. The safety was off, causing his chest to tighten. He ejected the cartridge, pointed the gun out the back of the ship and squeezed the trigger; it clicked.

Dax flipped the safety on before handing the magazine to Mark. He continued to inspect the gun, his suit scanning for organic matter on the weapon. There was some spatter on the outside that’d aged into nothingness while still leaving trace amounts behind. Dax turned the pistol toward him and looked down the barrel.

“What happened to never do something like that and it’s super stupid?” Mark asked.

“Why do you think I ejected the magazine, test fired it and put the safety on first?” Dax replied.

“Kane would still punch you in the face for doing something like that.”

“Any other situation, I would too, but we don’t have a mobile lab to get the data we need without looking straight down the barrel,” Dax countered.

His HUD reading came back negative.

“What kind of data?” Mark asked.

Dax tossed the gun back into the seat.

“There’s blood on the outside,” Dax said. “It’s consistent with what’s on the chair. There’s nothing inside the barrel, though. That means he didn’t shoot himself, and whatever got him wasn’t shot from point-blank either.”

Dax motioned toward the scorch mark. He grabbed the magazine and inspected it. A series of soft glowing lights on the metal indicated that only one shot was fired.

“And that was the only round he was able to get off before whatever got him, got him,” Dax added.

“It’s a plasma pistol; there’s not going to be back-splash up the barrel like with one of our guns,” Mark countered.

“Yes, but when someone gets shot, what doesn’t sublimate turns to ash. That’ll be light enough to follow the low-pressure tunnel left by the bolt flying through the air and at least get onto the end of the barrel if the shot was close enough.”

“What are you, CSI space, now?” Mark asked.

Dax’s eyes flicked, activating the darkening option to his visor with a short timer.

“No, but this definitely isn’t worth a… dust up,” Dax said, his visor going dark.

“YEEEAAAAAAAH!” PITA’s speakers rang.

Mark sighed and shook his head. He grabbed it with both hands and gave it a twist. Pressurized gas hissed out harmlessly before the fractured containment device was dropped to the ground.

“You’re ridiculous,” Mark huffed.

“You love it,” PITA replied. “Also, I got the data off the ship’s computer. There were no SOS’s sent, no sign of distress and not even a hint of other lifeforms boarding the ship without authorization.”

“Which means his own people likely did it to him and possibly tossed the body off the landing platform,” Mark chimed in.

“That is a possibility,” PITA replied. “But that kind of speculation isn’t rooted in evidence.”

“We’re not submitting a report on the missing team members. At least we have an idea of what happened,” Mark countered.

“Anything else in any of the other ships?” Dax asked.

“No, they’re all clean, both the ship and its computer,” Mark replied.

Dax lightened his visor once more before connecting with the team’s radio.

“Keep your heads up. There’s some form of predator on this rock that’s silent and possibly undetectable by sensors. If that’s the case, it likely means it’s just about as black as black can be to absorb the waves we use for scans.”

“Should be easy with a white backdrop,” Dalia chimed in.

“Hopefully, it’ll stand out in the flurries too,” Henuva added.

“Fingers crossed,” Dax said.

He turned and marched out of the ship with Mark and PITA close behind.

“Henuva, you and PITA set up twenty yards inside that tunnel and watch our six,” Dax said, motioning toward the darkness. “If anything tries to come in after us, you can let us know. If you can’t kill it, you can retreat. We’ll meet you in the middle to help fight it.”

“Copy that,” Henuva replied.

“You’re not letting me in there with you?” PITA asked.

They stepped into the storm once more. Dax drew his pistol and approached Ruthnar. Dalia and Henuva were already in a defensive position with him.

“Let’s face it, you’re our most ferocious fighter,” Dax explained. “If things go sideways, I’m sure Henuva would rather have you, over anyone else, by his side.”

“Ferocious, psychotic, tomato, nuclear fire,” Henuva said with a shrug. “Either way, I’m just glad it’s on my side.”

“I would like to argue the point that I can’t be psychotic as I don’t have a brain as defined by the school of both human and galactic psychology. Rampancy is already trademarked, so how about we call it sparkerism!”

“If that’s what you want,” Dax said.

He made it to the front of the group and activated his suit’s lights. The beams seemed to be swallowed by the darkness in front of him. Metal butterflies slammed around in his gut, causing him to roll his shoulder back. His sword ejected from its built-in sheath. Drawing it, he fired two shots into the tunnel, causing it to glow softly.

“I’ll take point,” he said, forcing his tone to remain even. “Everyone else keep your eyes peeled.”

With a deep breath, he stepped out of the storm and into the eerie calm. He pointed his lights in a traditional scanning pattern while his helmet cycled through different wavelengths before settling on infrared.

It pierced the seemingly unnatural darkness, revealing crates scattered across the tunnel’s walls. Some were still intact; most were rotted partially away. Debris dotted the ground. So far, nothing was suspiciously different than just lack of use.

“Is everyone on IR?” Dax asked.

“I am,” Dalia replied.

“Same,” Mark added.

“I don’t need it,” Ruthnar said.

Henuva and PITA broke off from the group, set up behind some still-solid crates and aimed toward the tunnel’s mouth.

“I’m not. The snow will burn out my visor,” he added.

They continued to creep forward. Dax stepped over a fallen rock. He glanced at the ceiling. Its supports were ancient and rusted. Some were bent, letting part of the mountain they were holding up slip past. Dax’s stomach dropped.

“We need to get in and out as fast as we can,” he said softly. “And whatever you do, no explosives. Something tells me it’ll bring all this down on top of us.”

“Aw, man,” PITA called back. “Where’s the fun in that?”

“The fun is not being buried alive,” Ruthnar countered.

“Ahead,” Dalia whispered. “Fifteen paces. I see something just behind some debris.”

Dax looked where she indicated. From his angle, he couldn’t see anything. He pointed his pistol at the rubble, forcing himself to take slow, deep breaths to maintain a steady hand.

“I don’t see anything,” Mark added.

“Perks of being significantly taller than all of you,” Dalia teased.

Reaching the debris, Dax peered over. A rifle sat on the ground. A bend in its center was clearly what had disabled it.

“Backing out of IR to scan,” Dax said.

He returned to his normal vision. His lights illuminated a blue liquid stain on the floor. Dax swallowed the knot trying to form in his throat. Part of him whispered to turn and run. There were too many similarities to the dead ship. Just take the loss and run.

Dax forced that tiny piece of common sense to fall silent, hoping he wouldn’t regret it. He looked over the area, his HUD highlighting a lot of blood. No body or parts were found. Just before moving on, a glint from under a piece of rotted wood caught his eye.

Dax moved slowly and silently toward the glint. With the tip of his sword, he flipped the piece of wood away. A mangled piece of metal sat underneath. Bending over, he inspected it closer before holstering his weapon.

The metal was compressed on one side, clearly ripped away from whatever it was attached to. Dax holstered his pistol before picking it up. The crumpled side sported unnervingly familiar patterns folded into the metal at the base of the crease.

“That looks like part of a pauldron,” Ruthnar whispered.

Dax turned it over, pieces of rotted flesh dangled from the center of the piece where metal was pinched together.

“Something tells me you’re right,” Dax added. “Henuva, keep your eyes open. Whatever this thing is doesn’t appear to be very large. And it can bite through guild armor with what appears to be relative ease.”

“How small are we talking?” Henuva asked.

Dax held the piece of metal up. Inspecting it, he lined it up with Mark’s helmet, then moved to Dalia’s.

“Somewhere between human and Dal’no,” Dax replied.

“Copy that,” Henuva replied.

He set the piece of metal down and drew his pistol.

“All in favor of continuing forward?” Dax asked.

“Aye,” Ruthnar said.

“I’m following you,” Dalia replied.

“This just has me curious,” Mark added.

“You know what they say about curiosity, right?” Dax asked.

“Yeah, but I’m not a p…”

“Let’s keep moving,” Dax said, cutting Mark off.

He pressed forward, switching back to infrared. Raising his pistol once more, he continued to press forward. Another glint of light off something metallic caught Dax’s eye once more. This time, it spanned the width and height of the tunnel.

“I think we’re approaching the end,” Dax suggested.

They continued forward, past the rot and forgotten items. Dax noted a pistol on the ground with a crumpled barrel with small, notable ridges in the metal.

“Whatever it is, it’s strong too,” he added.

“Well, so are you,” Henuva replied. “Still all quiet over here, by the way.”

“Copy that,” Dax added.

They continued, the shimmering growing brighter and brighter until a clearly visible door stood in their way. Dax inspected the single piece of massive steel that sealed across the top of the tunnel. Ruthnar stepped forward, his light aimed at the bottom left of the door. Dax dropped out of IR before following Ruthnar’s beam.

“Oh crap,” he whispered.

His heart started to pound once more. A pair of armored legs lay toes down at the edge of the door. Dried blood covered the ground and part of the wall. He stepped forward to investigate. Mark’s staff started to glow with his hacking holographic interface.

“I’ll get us in. There’s still a little bit of juice running to it. I should be able to get the door open. Just give me a second,” Mark muttered.

“That’s good news, I guess,” Ruthnar whispered.

“How is that good news?” Dalia asked.

“It could be his upper body, suggesting an attempted escape,” Dax suggested.

“Or he was running from something and fell,” Dalia countered.

22

BREAK IN

Dax pressed himself against a wall, his pistol raised with one hand and sword at the ready with the other. His sights sat on the door’s seam. Ruthnar stood behind him at the ready. Dalia and Mark positioned themselves on the opposite side of the tunnel. Mark’s holographic interface glowed a soft green.

“I’m in and ready to open the door when you are,” Mark ordered.

“Do it,” Dax said softly. “Remember, aim for the mouth if it’s straight on, at the base of the skull everywhere else.”

“You learn that from the spaceship you launched into a star?” Ruthnar asked.

Dax nodded. Mark struck his staff to the ground. A low rumble quickly shook the tunnel, causing rocks to fall down its entire length. The door opened just a few feet before whining and coming to a stop.

Dax’s infrared picked up nothing but more tunnel on the other side. He inched his way forward, keeping his pistol aimed at head height and a finger resting on the trigger.

Ruthnar tapped his shoulder; he glanced at Mark and Dalia and they nodded. The inching forward quickly turned into a precision, silent infiltration. Dax stepped over the body and into the far room. He turned right and cleared that corner. Ruthnar went left while Dalia pushed straight through to maintain cover directly ahead of them.

“Clear,” Dax called out.

“Clear,” Ruthnar replied.

“Clear,” Dalia chimed in.

“Not clear,” Mark muttered.

Dax’s heart skipped a beat. He whirled on his heels, his mind racing as to what unseen trap they missed. Mark stood just inside the door and looked at the ground. He tapped the ground with his scythe while clearing his throat.

“Is anyone noticing something missing here?” Mark asked.

“Are you hit?” Dax cut in.

“Not hit.”

Mark tapped the ground once more, forcing Dax’s attention down. Nothing but a dried puddle lay on the ground in front of Mark. Dax took a deep breath to center himself.

“We need to withdraw,” he ordered.

“What?” Ruthnar asked.

Dalia immediately started to back out.

“Withdraw now,” Dax ordered. “It’s too dangerous.”

“We’re already here. Just give us two minutes,” Ruthnar countered.

Dax marched over to the Dracolich, grabbed his shoulder and spun the mercenary around. He pointed at the empty spot on the ground.

“There is no upper body. Whatever took it is in here. It’s too dangerous. We don’t know what we’re up against.”

“You know what else is too dangerous? Going against the Valtakuntera at anything less than full strength,” Ruthnar countered. “We just need to find some tech, any tech, then we can tuck tail and run. Without it, an entire faction is dead in the water.”

“I agree,” Mark said, a reluctant groan in his voice. “I hate to argue with you, but you’ve seen what we’re up against. Do you really think we can do what needs to be done without every ounce of strength we can muster?”

Dax’s heart sank. Every fiber of his being itched, screaming at him to run. He held in place before looking at Dalia. He didn’t say a word; he didn’t have to. She read his mind with more clarity than a Jarog. With a single, slight nod, Dax raised his pistol once again and turned toward the darkness.

“Fine, but two minutes only,” Dax announced. “If we don’t have anything by then, we back out and collapse the tunnel.”

“Is that necessary?” Ruthnar asked.

“Something took, and my guess, ate, that upper body. Do you really want to give that thing a chance to follow us?” Dax asked.

Ruthnar grunted and shrugged.

“Dalia, you’re with me up the center. Ruthnar, Mark, stick together and check the edges,” Dax ordered.

Dalia positioned herself behind Dax with her weapon raised. Dax started off down the tunnel. Gradually, the walls widened before falling away completely. With each step he took, Dax noticed fewer and fewer pieces of debris on the ground. The ceiling extended overhead before vanishing into the darkness as well.

“I’m surprised you went for it,” Dax whispered.

“You wouldn’t have been able to live with yourself if we didn’t secure the guild and we lost,” Dalia replied. “I agree with you; it’s a bad idea. But as we've come this far, it’d be a waste of time and resources to turn back. Besides, we’ve faced man-eating things befoooorrrrr…”

Dalia trailed off. She lowered her weapon while slowing to a stop. Dax turned his attention from her to follow her gaze. In the dark, dimly visible through infrared, rose a massive ship. The mountain stretched along its hull, growing over the smooth, dark green, odd metallic hull.

“That wasn’t on my bingo card for this year,” Dax whispered. “Mark, get up here. We need you to run a deep scan.”

“I thought you wanted us to check the sidings for scrap,” Mark said.

“I didn’t say scrap, but get up here,” Dax countered.

“Scrap was implied,” Mark argued. “We’re coming up.”

“What are you seeing?” Ruthnar asked.

“A monolith,” Dax replied.

Within seconds, Mark and Ruthnar appeared from the darkness. Mark let out a whistle before holding out his staff.

“You weren’t kidding, this thing is a monolith,” Mark muttered.

The gem on his staff flashed a few times. It let out a soft buzz before flashing once again. Mark tilted his head to the side, withdrew the tool and gave it a tap with his scythe.

“Everything good?” Dax asked.

“I mean, maybe,” Mark replied. “The readings don’t make any sense.”

“And what are those readings?” Dalia asked.

“Carbon dating of the vessel in contrast with the current stone formations of the mountain,” Mark explained.

He lowered his staff and looked at the readings once again before shaking his head.

“It suggests the ship’s been here since before the mountain,” he explained. “That it grew up around the ship.”

“That’s impossible,” Ruthnar replied. “There’s no metal known that can last that long and not degrade.”

“Which brings in the terrifying conclusion,” Dax replied, looking at the gargantuan ship. “Whatever made this isn’t known.”

“Are there any doors?” Dalia asked.

“One; it appears to be ajar,” Mark said, looking at his scan. “It’s the only thing that’s not showing a void.”

Dax tapped his toe. He chewed on the inside of his cheek while his mind raced on their next move. He looked at the holographic scan. The void in the mountain was angular, almost blocky. Mark’s image even showed the platform they stood on, with them being mere specks of dust next to the mountainous vessel.

“You get a scan of the inside of the ship,” Dax said softly. “We don’t go in, just stick that staff in, gather data and we get out. I’m not getting trapped on another ship with who knows what kind of monstrosities.”

“That sounds like a plan,” Dalia replied.

“Dalia, you cover the door, Ruthnar and I will watch your backs,” Dax ordered.

“Copy that,” Dalia said, nudging Mark. “Get scanning.”

The young man nodded and made his way toward the vessel. Dax turned around, covering their back right side while Ruthnar did the same for their left. With a glance, Dax connected with Henuva’s radio.

“How are things looking out there?” he asked.

Static sounded. Between chops, Henuva’s voice replied. He couldn’t make out what the Valtukta was saying, but he didn’t sound scared, panicked, or like he was in a firefight. A hint of comfort settled on Dax at that thought.

“I don’t know if you can hear me, but we can’t hear you,” Dax said. “Can you have PITA boost your signal?”

More static sounded. Dax glanced at his bracer, and the augmented reality map gradually filled in while Mark continued his scans. After a few seconds, Henuva’s voice came over the radio, warped as if it’d been put through a Tannoy filter.

“Still all quiet up here.”

“Tally ho, good chap!” Mark replied, leaning into the aesthetic.

“No strange sounds or HUD glitches?” Dax asked.

“Negative,” Henuva replied.

“Well, that’s jolly good, ol’ boy,” Mark replied.

“Did Mark get infected with something?” Henuva asked.

“No, there’s a little distortion on this end, he’s just leaning into it,” Dax said.

“By George, there it is,” Mark added.

Dax glanced over his shoulder. The door was cracked almost six inches. Dalia moved from her left to the right, her gun aimed at head level while she checked for anything untoward inside. After a few seconds, she gave Mark a thumbs-up.

“Clear,” she whispered.

A soft noise caught Dax’s attention. He tilted his head, trying to listen for it. Something sounded again. He couldn’t quite place it.

“Righty-o, best get to work,” Mark replied.

“Will you cut the nineteen-forties radio announcer crap?” Dax asked. “We’ve got a job to do, and it’s hard to use our best sense in this level of darkness when you’re playing a World War II announcer.”

Mark let out a frustrated sigh. He shook his head, tapped on the holographic interface and stuck the tip of his staff into the open door.

“You’re a real fun killer, you know that?” Mark asked.

“Lots of people never came back from here,” Dax countered. “I’d rather be a fun killer and get back alive.”

Silence settled on the team once more. Dax continued to listen, turning his suit’s external audio intake up some more. The scratching grew louder; the staff humming barely overlaid it.

Dax glanced back at Ruthnar. He touched the side of his helmet then made a scratching motion with his hand. The Dracolich turned his head to one side. After a few seconds, he nodded.

Ruthnar’s helmet retracted, revealing the mercenary’s pristine scales. He sniffed the air while looking around. Dax pointed at his own helmet, then at Ruthnar.

“My sense of smell is far greater than my hearing,” he whispered.

Ruthnar continued to sniff. He slowly rotated while his nostrils flared. Putting his helmet back on, he let out a sigh.

“Nothing?” Dalia whispered.

“There’s a deep stench here,” he replied, turning toward the Dal’no. “But it’s too permeated to tell a direction.”

Movement behind Ruthnar caught Dax’s attention. An armored being rushed out of the darkness at the Dracolich’s blind spot. Unable to get a quick, clean shot, Dax thrust his sword an inch past Ruthnar’s head.

Sparks flew, metal screeched, and the sword punched through a helmet’s face plate and out the back like it was nothing. A flash of light emanated from inside the sealed helmet accompanied by steam and the reddening of metal as Dax’s sword stopped glowing.

Dax pulled back the blade, sending the person falling to the ground in a heap of metal.

“We’ve got contact,” Dax whispered. “Keep your eyes up for any more; I’ll confirm kill.”

He stepped around Ruthnar, putting the pistol against the steaming helmet. He quickly inspected the body. The corpse’s armor looked eerily familiar. He slid his sword under it and flipped it over. An emblem of the guild was embossed on his chest.

“I guess that’s what happens when you’re stuck in the dark with almost no supplies for a long time,” Dalia said. “You go mad.”

The pit in Dax’s gut appeared once again. He changed his visor to regular vision. The guild member’s pauldron armor was missing. Underneath was heavily damaged flesh accompanied by what looked like another chunk bitten out of his arm. Dark veins stretched across his pale skin, accompanied by a level of emaciation nothing could’ve survived, let alone operate in a suit on.

“Retreat,” Dax whispered.

He pointed his gun at his sword and fired a few more shots into it, recharging it. He quickly turned his weapon to Dalia’s hammer, firing at it. He narrowly missed her head, charging her weapon as well.

“Hey,” she grunted. “What was that…”

“Guys?!” Mark screamed, staggering backward.

Dax turned toward the young man, his pistol raised while standing upright. A hand emerged from the darkness of the ship. It pulled against the ground, accompanied by a familiar scratching sound.

With a pull, a suit of armor matching the legs at the door, slid into Dax’s lights. A trail of viscera slid on the ground behind it. With a broken arm, it swung at Mark with a level of aggression something recently chopped in half couldn’t have.

A blinding flash of light, accompanied by a deafening bang, echoed through the mountain. The upper body’s helmet turned inside out accompanied by liquid-less chunks and sparks of blue. The torso fell limp at their feet.

“I’m starting to think Sandrina was right to be negative about this place,” Mark said with a trembling voice.

23

CREW

“Did you at least get the scan?” Ruthnar asked.

“Most of it,” Mark replied.

“Enough to get the guild on side?” Dalia asked, chambering another round.

“I don’t think that matters at the moment,” Mark countered.

A hiss and roar emerged from the ship. Another monstrosity in guild armor slammed into the door and swiped at them. Dax noticed a chunk of armor around the person’s neck was missing, accompanied by another wound and more dark veins.

It took a step back, looked at the door and turned its body sideways. Fear shot through Dax like a lightning bolt. He raised his pistol and fired three shots into the advancing being’s chest. A round in each lung and one through the heart.

It staggered backward, looked at the smoldering holes left by the armor-piercing plasma rounds and touched its chest. A low snarl emanated from the helmet before it lunged through the door.

Raising his pistol, Dax put a fourth bolt through the center of the helmet. The green light flashed through the protective gear and down the ships’ hallway. Dax hardly noticed the body fall limp at his feet, only seeing dozens, if not hundreds of things pulling themselves off the ground from the light of his shot.

“Freaking zombies again?” he snarled.

Before he could tell everyone to run, a hand grabbed his shoulder. Pressure alarms flashed on his HUD. Before he could react, Dax was ripped off his feet and flung to the side.

Dax spun through the air; he activated the magnets in his boots before he hit the ground. Being pulled straight down, he leaned forward. Hitting the ground, his feet stopped firm. Every muscle in his body tightened, keeping his upper body from tumbling backward.

He hardly got a glimpse of the guild member who’d snuck up on them and threw him before a helmet smashed into Dax’s arm. He looked at the disturbance. Another person in guild armor with an exposed, damaged forearm grabbed hold of him, smashing helmet against bracer.

Dax raised his pistol and fired through the top of his attacker’s head. The alien fell to the ground. A guttural snarl behind him caught his ear. He deactivated the magnets in his boots, spun and swung the sword at neck height.

The glowing metal flashed as it sliced through three necks with no resistance. All three bodies fell to the ground, each wearing more guild armor. Another flash behind him caught his attention. The thing that grabbed him flew past Dax, off the platform’s ledge and down the seemingly bottomless pit beside them.

“I think we found out where the missing guild members went,” Ruthnar said.

Dax turned to his crew to see Ruthnar slash at two advancing on him. They dropped. A beam of green light erupted from Mark’s staff, melting anything that tried to get through the door.

Dalia dropped her hammer, shouldered her rifle and started firing at the small wave that clambered over the opposing ledge. Dax noticed one or two in old protective gear, rusted and almost falling off their bodies.

“Something must’ve done this to them. Keep an eye out for that,” Dax countered.

A hand reached for him. His heart lurched into his throat. He pulled away and stabbed. His sword punched through the helmet once more. With a yank to the side, it carved its way free, sending the monstrosity to the ground.

“Everyone ready to fall back now?” he asked.

He cut off a hand flying at him before putting a plasma bolt into the helmet of another. He noticed the gear gradually getting older with each thing he put back down.

“I’m good,” Dalia said.

She grabbed her hammer and lumbered toward the open door. Ruthnar followed closely behind. With enough distance, he raised his rifle and provided cover fire for Mark. Dax rushed toward the young man, hooked his arm with Mark’s and practically yanked him off his feet.

“Think this is another cordyceps thing?” Mark asked.

“Doubtful. They’re all still wearing their helmets. It’s the weaker parts of the armor that were punctured,” Dax replied.

Mark managed to catch his footing, pull his arm free and join Dax in their all-out sprint.

“What are the chances of us running into zombies again?” Mark asked.

“Clearly not low enough,” Dax countered.

As they reached the door, a plasma bolt ripped past Dax and smashed into the wall in a fit of color. Dax slid to a stop and turned. Dozens of armored beings loomed in the darkness. A handful of them held guns, with an albino humanoid standing in mangled armor and no helmet looking at them.

A soft glow emanated from the being’s eyes, his face nearly peeled off and bones broken at jagged angles, giving him a demonic visage. He raised the rifle and let out another snarl. Before he could fire, another flash accompanied by a bang rang out.

His head exploded in a fit of sparks and flesh, but once again, no blood. The body fell limp, only for another to reach for the gun.

“Mark, get this freaking door closed, now!” Dalia ordered.

“I can’t. I used the last of the facility’s power to open it.”

Dax snarled and put two bolts into the next monstrosity before it could grab the gun.

“Get one of those ships down here and blow it,” Ruthnar ordered.

He planted his feet, raised his rifle and started shooting at the glowing blue dots in the dark. Each head shot resulted in sparks and bloodless tissue spraying in every direction. The Dracolich’s rounds bounced off breast plates and pauldrons, flashing harmlessly against them as well.

A green beam slashed across the oncoming horde. It flickered after dropping a few before sputtering out. Mark snarled, swore and looped the staff over his back.

“It’s out of juice,” Mark shouted.

“Do you have the M4?” Dax asked.

“Does it look like I do?” Mark asked, holding only his scythe.

Snarls, roars and guttural sputters rose from the increasing numbers that continued to swarm closer and closer to them. Dax, Ruthnar and Dalia continued firing, only slowing their approach.

“Give Ruthnar the scythe, get back to the ships and send them this way,” Dax ordered. “Henuva get down here. PITA, escort Mark.”

“On my way,” Henuva replied. “What is it?”

Mark handed his melee weapon to Ruthnar, all three still firing grouped together to stave off the oncoming wave.

“More zombies,” Dalia replied.

“Seriously?” Henuva whimpered.

Mark bolted down the tunnel toward the white dot that was its entrance.

“Just shoot them in the head,” Mark ordered.

“They’re getting closer,” Dalia warned.

“Group retreat!” Dax said.

They walked backward, continuing their carefully placed shots. Each time Dalia squeezed the trigger, an explosion warning blinked on Dax’s HUD. Henuva reached them, joining their steady backpedal, adding his handheld particle accelerator to the mix.

Dalia’s shot would kill two or three that were lined up. Henuva’s tore through flesh and armor alike as if it were nothing, the projectile only stopping when hitting the ship hundreds of yards away.

The first to reach the door slid through without a problem. Henuva’s shot snapped its head back. It fell limp. The hundred behind it slammed into the wall and door. They pushed themselves through like toothpaste out of a roll and continued to charge.

“Shoot my hammer,” Dalia barked.

She fired, reloaded, fired again, reloaded then squeezed the trigger to a heart-dropping click. Dax turned his pistol toward her hammer head and squeezed three times. Two rounds splashed against the metal before being pulled in.

“Pistol’s out,” he announced.

Henuva and Ruthnar stepped in front, continuing to shoot. Dax’s heart slammed against his chest. His fingers tingled with the surge of adrenaline as he holstered his pistol and drew the shotgun.

He broke the double-barreled pellet thrower open while Dalia drew her hammer. Grabbing two orange cartridges, he slid them into the weapon and snapped it shut.

“Get ready to run, boys,” Dalia ordered.

Ruthnar’s weapon clicked. He grumbled, drew a pistol from his side and continued to fire. The wall of multi-speed monstrosities advanced even faster toward them.

Two in Galio armor skirted past Henuva’s pattern of fire and rushed toward Dalia. Dax stepped forward, levelled his shotgun and fired. Two pillars of flames belched from the barrels. Slugs cracked against visors, slowing them down.

With a flourish, Dax sliced their heads clear from their bodies. Dalia spun. She slammed her hammer into the tunnel wall. Chunks of stone immediately started falling from the ceiling all around them.

Everyone turned and sprinted toward the light at the end of the tunnel. Dax sheathed his sword, ejected the fire-breath cartridges and reloaded with Toxic Queen ammo.

Ruthnar’s pistol ran dry. He chucked it at a rusty Valtukta suit of armor that charged him. He hit it in the face plate before swinging the scythe, severing the back of its neck.

The Dracolich pulled the scythe free. Everyone pressed forward. Dax’s legs tried to carry him as fast as they could. He forced himself to stay slower, not to pull away from the group. He jumped over a rock while another struck his shoulder, bouncing harmlessly off him.

“Behind you,” Dalia called out.

He looked back to see the eerily smooth moving creatures closing in. One broke ahead of the group and lunged at Dax. He raised his shotgun and fired. The corrosive substance immediately consumed the helmet and head inside. Its body fell limp to the ground.

“Guys, get out of the way,” Mark called over the radio.

A flash of orange caught Dax’s attention. One of the ships barreled down the tunnel toward them. Dax dove to one side, Henuva the other. The ship narrowly missed them both while carving a path through the infected.

“Pick it up!” Ruthnar screamed.

A second ship zipped by, its engines screaming louder than the infected.

“Jun, we could use a pickup,” Dax called out.

He clipped his shotgun to his lower back while sprinting toward Mark against the tunnel wall. Henuva and Ruthnar kept up on the opposite side while Dalia stayed close behind him.

“Already in position,” she replied.

A third ship zipped by as the first impacted the door. Its explosion sent a shockwave through the tunnel, causing more of it to start to collapse. Debris struck the second, forcing it to the ground. It bounced, spun and detonated from the impact, causing even more debris to fall.

Rocks bounced off Dax. He ignored them, didging what he could, powering through what he couldn’t until he reached the tunnel opening. Mark leapt from the platform with PITA in hand as Dax stopped. Dalia zipped past him, jumping as well. Once Ruthnar and Henuva were clear, the third ship exploded in a rapidly approaching fireball.

“Well, that’s not good,” Dax muttered.

He rushed for the platform’s edge. Grabbing Henuva and Ruthnar, he jumped. The Junkyard hovered nose down below them. All three fell in, slamming into the far wall just before Jun pulled up and started flying away.

Once they were over the platform, a gout of flame engulfed the other ships, causing them to detonate as well, sending rock and stone collapsing all along the length of the mountainside. Dax watched, a numbness overtaking him. He cleared his throat, keeping his eyes on the destruction before giving Mark a tap with his shoulder.

“Next time I agree to a job like this… punch me in the face,” he ordered.

“With pleasure,” Mark beamed.

24

UPDATE

Dax stood in his room, arms crossed. Water dripped from his well-groomed beard while a fresh set of clothes, warmed by the engine room, embraced him. He looked at the puck Bleeze gave him as it flickered to life. His handler appeared in front of him.

“Hey, kid, how’d the mission go?” Bleeze asked.

Dax rubbed the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath.

“If I had a nickel for every time you sent me on a mission to investigate missing guild members only to be met by some sort of zombie, I’d have two coins,” Dax said, holding up two fingers. “Which isn’t a lot, I’ll grant you, but it’s weird it happened twice.”

“Are you sure?” Bleeze asked.

“One of the guys that was sent got cut in half by a big ol’ door,” Dax elaborated. “With no internal liquid left, his upper half started crawling at us. I’m calling zombie.”

“How is that even possible? Mechanically, that shouldn’t work,” Bleeze said, stroking his facial hair.

“I have no idea, but head shots were the only thing that put them down, and whatever the initial vector, it made them strong enough to bite through your guild armor like it was nothing,” Dax explained. “We didn’t leave with any technology, but we did get a scan of the ship.”

“You didn’t get one of the creatures?” Bleeze asked.

“Mark was a little busy using his staff to stop the horde from getting to us.”

“Makes sense,” Bleeze said with a nod. “Glad you guys got out of there. I’m assuming it ended in some sort of explosion?”

“Yes, it in fact did. We collapsed the tunnel leading to it and blew up every ship that was on that landing platform. If any survived, those things aren’t going anywhere.”

“That’s a comfort at least,” Bleeze murmured. “I’m glad you’re safe. I’ll let the contact know you’re coming and to expect you at the medical bay.”

“Why there?” Dax asked.

Bleeze paused for a moment. He looked Dax up and down before shrugging.

“You’re telling me, you guys don’t actually need medical attention after a mission?”

“No.”

“Huh, first time for everything,” Bleeze teased. “Glad you made it out. I’ll catch up later. And, uh, best not to tell anyone, especially the guild, about those things.”

The line cut out. Dax rubbed his eyes and let out a groan before walking out of his bedroom. Dalia stood against the wall just beyond their door. She braided damp hair while eyeing Dax.

“He didn’t seem angry,” she said.

“Either he’s getting soft in his old age, or he’s taking it easy on us since Kane,” Dax replied. “He said he was glad that we made it out.”

“Not surprised. We’re his most valuable asset, even though we don’t do more than one job for him a year now.”

“Normally, I’d agree with you. But this time, it sounded genuine.”

“Maybe he is going soft,” Dalia muttered.

“I’m not sure I want to be around for that power vacuum.”

Dax pointed toward the main deck before walking that way. Dalia pushed off the wall and followed. Sandrina’s voice echoed off the walls, becoming clearer the closer they got to the main deck.

“Did I not tell you going there was a bad idea?” she asked.

“You did, and you’ve told us half a dozen times since we got back,” Mark countered. “All I’m saying is, we got back clean. Those things can’t hurt anyone anymore and we got a scan of a ship. I call that a good day.”

They reached the main deck. PITA sat on his charger. Blue light swirled at the nose of the ship with Jun at the helm. Sandrina’s voice carried from the mess hall as she and Mark continued going back and forth.

“PITA didn’t want in on that?” Dax asked.

“He suddenly coughed and said his battery was low,” Jun replied. “A weak excuse to say the least. I just think he didn’t want to put up with Sandrina’s continued lecture.”

“I don’t blame him; she’s what, forty-five minutes in?” Dalia asked.

“At least,” Jun replied.

“And you,” Sandrina continued. “You’re supposed to be the leader of the most powerful mercenary group in the galaxy, and you couldn’t at least offer more support?”

Dax followed the shouts. He stepped into the room to see Ruthnar pouring coffee next to Henuva behind the counter.

“She turns her attention toward me again, I’m stealing your mug and chugging it,” Henuva whispered to Ruthnar.

The Dracolich smirked and took a sip.

“Evidence suggested what we ran into down there was highly infectious,” Ruthnar countered. “You’re a doctor. You should know how disease spreads. Tell me, what is better when dealing with a disease? A large group, that if infected can spread it before containment procedures can be implemented? Or a small group, that if an infection took place, could be quickly and easily quarantined, isolated or dispatched?”

“I would rather no group vulnerable to infection and no dispatch,” Sandrina countered before looking at Mark. “Did you at least get valuable information?”

“I mean, we found out what happened to the other guild members,” he teased with a shrug.

“Not what I mean!” Sandrina hissed.

“All right, all right, don’t get your hairball caught in your throat,” Mark huffed.

“Dude,” Dax cut in.

Mark gave an apologetic smile and shrugged before looking back at the Bastet.

“Look, I got a scan of the inside of the ship. It was massive. The data I acquired took up every ounce of memory in that staff…”

“Which is no easy feat,” Henuva chimed in. “Those are capable of holding all of the knowledge of the Valtakuntera.”

“And it was filled by one ship?” Dalia asked. “What kind of race has a vessel that could do that?”

“Given that mountains like that can take tens of thousands of years, if not more, to form? My guess is some ancient, hyper-advanced race,” Dax suggested. “A predecessor to where we are now. Whatever came after us must’ve been what took them down. We’ll let the Alcazar know to keep a wide berth from those ships.”

“Could you imagine the carnage if those were set loose on the galaxy?” Ruthnar asked.

“That would be a game over event,” Henuva added before looking at Mark. “Did I use that term right?”

“Yeah, yeah, you did.” Mark chuckled.

“Jun,” Dax called back. “How far along with defragmenting that data are you?”

“Five percent. I estimate it will take four days to complete,” Jun replied. “The information is far more complex than anything I’ve come across. It’s new, but I will learn it.”

“That gives us a day of R&R after we get to the Alcazar. We provide the guild contact with the information and once they’re on side, we can start planning for our offensive,” Dax explained.

“And what about those things?” Sandrina asked. “If given the opportunity, I can tell you right now that the guild will try to find a way to weaponize those things.”

“It’s a good thing we collapsed a mountain on top of them, then,” Dax said. “We’re going to leave the whole zombified guild members out of our report to that contact…”

“Did you tell Bleeze about them?” Sandrina asked.

“I did, but he’s not going to let it leak. He saw firsthand what happened on the other ship through our suit recordings. He knows how nasty something like that is.”

“I’m sorry, did you just say suit recordings?” Sandrina asked.

“Data’s already been corrupted and scrubbed. No one’s getting their hands on what we saw down there,” Mark cut in. “Now, if you’ll just take a deep breath and calm down, you’ll notice that we’re all good. There’s nothing to be worried about anymore.”

Sandrina’s eyes widened. She took a deep breath, almost snorting like a bull on her exhale. She turned and marched out of the mess hall.

“You are just trying to strike out, aren’t you?” Dax asked.

“Yeah, don’t you know the best way to get a woman to calm down is to tell them to calm down?” Henuva asked.

Ruthnar snorted laughter into his cup.

“I don’t think there’s ever been a person in history where, when told to calm down, it actually worked,” Dalia added. “I thought you were a smart kid.”

Mark grimaced and let out a grunt.

“You’re right, that was bad word choice,” he said, putting his face in his hands. “She’d just been going on for almost an hour non-stop. Like, I don’t even think she paused to take a breath.”

Dax turned to Ruthnar for confirmation.

“I usually don’t get involved in the politics of other crews,” Ruthnar said, taking another sip. “But I didn’t see her take a breath. She wasn’t aimed at me, and even my nerves are fried.”

Dax looked at Henuva.

“I guess that explains your willingness to drink that again,” he said, motioning toward the coffee.

“Oh, trust me, it would’ve been a welcome reprieve,” Henuva replied.

“Then I’m a little glad I missed it,” Dax said, making his way toward the pot.

“Same here. You do have to keep in mind though, she kind of views herself as the den mother. She’s just worried about us.”

Henuva grabbed two mugs and handed one to Dax and the larger one to Dalia.

“If that’s the case, then she could’ve come down with us. She might’ve seen something we missed,” the Valtukta replied.

“Speaking of missed, no one got bitten, did they?”

Dax grabbed the pot. He poured Dalia a cup until she waved that she was good. He filled his mug up, then set it back down.

“Never got close enough,” Henuva replied.

“Same,” Mark added.

“Every single one that made contact with me had a helmet on,” Ruthnar explained. “They tried to, but they never made it past their own visors.”

“Same here, thankfully,” Dax added.

“Nothing got close enough to me either,” Dalia added.

Mark started to chuckle. He sat back in the booth, laughing to himself. It drew everyone’s attention. Dax took a sip of his rich, layered coffee before tossing concerned looks to the rest of the team. He was met by similar expressions and headshakes indicating they had no idea.

“Mark, you sure you didn’t get bit?” Dax asked.

Mark continued to cackle. His laugh grew more and more intense until it was nothing more than a soft squeal. His face was bright red, causing the vein on his forehead to bulge.

“Mark, are you okay?” Dalia asked.

Mark slapped the tabletop and nodded. He held up one finger, trying to force himself to breathe and calm down.

“Scans of suits indicate full structural integrity,” Jun called back. “There were no punctures or breaches in anyone’s gear. Evidence indicates he’s having a genuine reaction to something he found amusing.”

Between breaths, he gradually regained his composure. The chuckling continued to force his body to lurch slightly.

“Sorry, I just realized something really funny,” he managed to squeeze out.

“I don’t think there’s anything quite that funny,” Dalia added.

“Maybe not to you,” Mark countered.

He looked Dax dead in the eye.

“We can officially publish a medical research paper,” Mark continued.

“About what?” Dax asked, his brow knitting together.

“About how we discovered the only time masks were actually effective in stopping the spread of a viral outbreak,” Mark added.

Dax clenched his jaw. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and let out a snort of stifled laughter.

25

ALCAZAR

Dax stood in the cargo bay with Ruthnar, cleaning and inspecting the guns brought on their last mission. The Dracolich reassembled his rifle before leaning against a crate.

“I have to say, I’m used to blockades, stalemates, and a lot of posturing. We see a little action here and there, but it seems like every time I run into you, there’s always something deeply intense taking place.”

Dax finished the check on Dalia’s rifle, pulling the cleaning cloth out of its breech before looking at the mercenary.

“Is it always this intense? Or do you just save the particularly nasty ones for me?” Ruthnar asked.

“You call that nasty?” Dax chuckled.

He tossed the dirty rag into a crate holding other dirty rags.

“We didn’t even get touched. No armor got dented or damaged. We’re not having to make any repairs. We’re just checking up on the firearms used and reloading spent munitions.”

Dax picked up the Fat Mac, walked to its wall mount and set it down. He walked over to the ammo station and started reloading the massive shells.

“That was a day at the beach. Usually, there’s a lot more limping and screaming.”

“And explosions?” Ruthnar asked.

Dax lined up a bullet with its gunpowder-filled cartridge. He pulled on the lever hard, forcing the round into its casing.

“No, those were about the same.” Dax shrugged. “I mean, if we didn’t have you, then it probably would’ve been closer to par for the course, but your extra firepower held off enough to make the difference.”

Dax grabbed the completed bullet and put it in Dalia’s bandolier before moving on to the next one.

“How are you not bald?” Ruthnar asked. “If my day to day were that stressful, I’d start losing scales.”

“You lose scales?” Dax asked.

“If under enough stress? Yes.”

“What does that look like?”

“More disturbing than you’d think,” Ruthnar replied.

Dax pulled the lever, loading another round before setting up for a third.

“Clearly, you’ve never seen a naked mole rat,” Dax said. “How are things with your brother?”

“You mean the Ryshy?” Ruthnar asked.

“No, I mean your brother,” Dax countered.

He looked at the Dracolich before pulling the lever again.

“Good. There’s been a lot of coordinating, but good,” Ruthnar replied.

“He’s the head of the second largest faction in the galaxy. Does he know?”

“What, that he’s going to be probably number two on the Valtakuntera hit list when this kicks off?” Ruthnar asked. “Before you showed up, he was number one for decades. He knows what he’s doing. He’s more than capable of handling himself.”

Dax loaded another round into the belt before making another shell.

“If he fights half as well as you do, I have no doubt about that.”

“It’s the other way around,” Ruthnar replied. “I’m the one who fights half as well.”

“Then what are you doing leading the Broken Shields?” Dax scoffed. “Sounds like it should be him.”

An unamused expression spread across Ruthnar’s scaly face.

“If it were him, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now. He would’ve just cut your limbs and head off when you dueled.”

Dax’s back stiffened. He nodded after his mouth turned downward.

“That’s very good to know.”

“I don’t mean to interrupt,” Jun’s voice came over the ship’s speakers. “But the scans have been completed. They are ready to view.”

Dax slid the last bullet into Dalia’s ammo belt. He nodded toward the ladder while starting to pack away Kane’s reloading kit.

“I’ll get this cleaned up. I’ll meet you up there,” he said.

Ruthnar slung his rifle over his shoulder and glanced around once more.

“Are you sure?”

“Kane used to make me do this blindfolded, literally. It’ll be faster if I don’t have to tell you where everything goes, no offense.”

“None taken.”

Ruthnar made his way to the ladder and climbed it. Dax quickly disassembled the press as much as he could and placed it in its crate. He sealed the gunpowder components and slid them into their static resistant holders before pulling the lids shut and locking them in place.

Before leaving, he did one more quick sweep of the cargo bay. Everything was in place and latched tight. Dax grabbed his shotgun before climbing the ladder as well. He reached the main deck and walked toward the cockpit.

“That is an interesting design,” Sandrina muttered.

“Yeah, but look at how the armor is layered. That’s not something even the Valtakuntera have,” Henuva replied.

“The weapons systems appear impressive,” Dalia said.

“That’s a given since there are hundred of them and pointed in every direction,” Mark added.

Dax rounded the corner to see everyone huddled around a console. The blue swirling light before them danced across everyone while they inspected the scan. He made his way over and got a look as well. A blueprint of a surprisingly boxy ship sat in front of him.

“That kind of looks like the ship that bat guy flew off in,” Dax said softly.

“Only about fifteen to twenty times smaller,” Sandrina replied.

“It’s still bigger than any ship in my fleet,” Ruthnar said.

“The big question is, do you think this’ll be enough for the guild?” Dalia asked. “Or did we risk everything for nothing?”

“Given the current technological state of the galaxy, that’d be considered a super-weapon. I’d imagine they’d accept it,” Jun added. “There are things in the blueprints that no one will have the ability to make for an estimated four hundred more years, but substitutes can be made.”

“Good, so there’s time to build up so the guild doesn’t fill the power vacuum we’re about to make,” Dax said.

“That’s why we’ve got the Alcazar,” Mark countered before pointing at the scan. “And that’s not a super weapon. It needs to have a big, round, massive laser emitter right there on the front that can take out a planet or ten.”

“Mark, we’re not making the Death Star,” Dax countered.

“I wasn’t talking about the Death Star,” Mark said in a taunting tone.

“Or Star Killer Base.”

“Fun hater,” Mark muttered.

Dax turned toward the android before leaning against the console bank.

“Jun, if someone were to make a fleet out of these blueprints with the technology we have now. How much trouble would the galaxy be in?” Dax asked.

“If the blueprints were to be made public, it’d increase the status quo of the galaxy as a whole. Equilibrium would be maintained.”

“And if just one faction got it?” Dalia asked.

“Given time, they’d surpass the strength of the Valtakuntera,” Jun replied.

Dax turned toward Sandrina, gradually followed by everyone else. He motioned to the scan.

“Think this is something the guild should have?” Dax asked.

“They’ve always operated on the fringes of normalcy,” Sandrina replied. “It wouldn’t take much of a push to turn them into the next set of tyrants.”

“We shouldn’t be surprised. How often did Bleeze point a shotgun at our junk before we saved him from Tylira?” Mark asked. “An entity willing to shoot someone there instead of the head isn’t exactly in a friendly organization.”

“That’s all I need to hear then,” Dax said, putting his hand up. “All in favor of handing the blueprints over to the Alcazar and leaving it for the galactic senate, raise your hands.”

Everyone but PITA and Ruthnar raised their hands. Dax looked at the Dracolich.

“You think we should give it to the guild?”

“No, but I’m not part of your crew; figured I don’t get a vote,” Ruthnar replied.

“You’ve been in more than one fight with us. You’ve saved our hides at least twice and you’ve kicked my butt from here to Florida and back. I’d say you’re a part of the crew.”

Ruthnar looked sheepishly at the ground. He fought as much of a smile as his kind could muster before raising his hand. Dax turned toward PITA.

“You can vote too.”

“I know,” PITA replied. “I just chose to vote for chaos. I say give it to the guild, watch the fun unravel.”

“Good thing this is a democracy, then, and you’re outvoted,” Dax countered.

“Are you sure about that?” Mark asked. “Because I seem to remember a very impassioned speech once about how this wasn’t a democracy.”

“That was before we had a potential tyrant-making weapon at our disposal,” Dax countered.

Ruthnar approached the console. He inspected it for a few seconds before rubbing his chin.

“You know, I’m kind of surprised you haven’t decided to give it to your own kind,” he suggested. “Give them an opportunity to leapfrog to the power of the rest of the galaxy.”

Dax and Mark looked at one another, then back to Ruthnar before locking eyes once again. They both erupted in laughter, shaking their heads.

“Do you have any idea how bad of a suggestion that is?” Mark asked.

“You’d be better off just giving the plans to the Valtakuntera,” Dax added.

Ruthnar looked at the rest of the crew. His brow furrowed with a slight frown on his face.

“They have a very bleak view of their own people,” Dalia explained.

“It’s not bleak,” Dax countered. “It’s realistic. We’ll get there one day. But that’s not today.”

“That’s his take. We’re still ready to nuke ourselves into oblivion. My view is that bleak,” Mark replied. “I hope that we’ll be ready one day, but I very much doubt that.”

“Nice to see you’re unbiased,” Sandrina mused.

“From my studies of their race, I’d have to agree with Mark’s assessment.” Henuva finally broke his silence. “As much as I hate to admit it, there’s not a lot of difference between the Valtakuntera and humanity. At least your people clearly have pockets of good in them.”

Dax looked at Henuva with a dour expression on his face.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit.”

Henuva lifted his robotic arm.

“It took a long, hard time for me to learn that lesson. And even then, if you hadn’t saved me from those fungus monstrosities, I fully planned on leaving you on that ship.”

Jun turned in her seat.

“You were going to stab us in the back?” she asked.

“Absolutely.” Henuva chuckled.

PITA’s mouth opened. The pilot light burst to life. Henuva took a step away from the cybernetic dog.

“Easy, Cujo,” he huffed. “When you saved me, I realized the propaganda that your people are far worse than my own was a lie. A Valtukta would’ve left me there because only the strong survive.”

Dax walked over to Henuva and gave him a playful shove.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit. I don’t know many people who’ve been shot, stabbed, sliced, blown up, partially irradiated and I’m fairly certain burned more than once who are still standing,” Dax said. “And yet here you are.”

“Seems like you're one of the strongest,” Jun added before the ship beeped.

She turned in her seat. Before Henuva could reply, she grabbed the leap drive controls. The blue swirl vanished as they dropped into normal space. The Alcazar drifted serenely in the void before them with the Dal’no super weapon floating behind it, along with Ashley and Josh’s Valtukta fleets.

“Where’s your brother?” Dax asked.

The Broken Shield ship burst into existence over them before breaking off to join Ashley’s fleet.

“He’s decided to keep the Valtakuntera’s eyes away from all our assets by going on diplomatic missions,” Ruthnar replied. “He’s recruiting smaller factions that in the grand scheme won’t be much for our cause, but it’ll at least make it less likely that they find this.”

The radio crackled to life. Jun pressed the button to connect with the incoming message.

“I was wondering when you guys would show backup,” Dan’s voice came through loud and clear. “It’s nice to see the Junkyard again. After you land, come meet me at the medical center.”

“Is everything okay?” Dalia asked.

“Of course. I just figured if you’re coming back already, Dax must’ve done something to get himself injured again.”

“Guys,” Dax huffed. “I’m being more careful this time.”

26

HANDOFF

Dax stood on the walkway lined on one side by medical rooms, with a drop-off overlooking the Alcazar on the other. He flipped the puck they’d put Mark’s scans into between his fingers.

Below, far to the left, he saw his crew walking toward a café, their voices hardly audible from the distance. Everyone, including PITA and Jun, piled in. Dalia stopped at the door. She turned, looked at him and gave him a wave. Dax waved back.

“I’m glad you called me,” Dan’s voice carried from the opposite side.

Dax turned to see the head of the Alcazar approaching in normal clothes and no armed escort. The professor looked around while pursing his lips.

“Where are all the guns?” Dax asked.

“I’m smart enough to know, if you wanted me dead, no amount of bodyguards would protect me,” Dan replied. “And the civilian clothes don’t draw as many looks from the populous.”

“I imagine they help you peacock too,” Dax countered.

A perplexed expression contorted the Galio’s face.

“Peacock?”

“It’s a bird back on my home world. It’s got feathers that plume out behind it in a circle,” Dax said, motioning with his hands. “Very big, very colorful, designed to draw the eye away from the bird itself.”

“Ah, so it draws attention, but not to my face?” Dan asked.

He turned and leaned against the railing.

“Good way to hide in plain sight,” Dax replied, joining him. “How has integrating the Ryshy been going?”

“Shockingly smooth. I figured it’d be a lot more negotiating and manipulating from both sides to combine our forces. Turns out all we need is a big enough common threat,” Dan explained.

“Manipulation?” Dax asked, looking at the politician.

“Don’t be naive. You’re telling me you don’t expect a galactic body of any kind not to manipulate?” Dan asked, motioning toward himself. “It’s a two-way street. I was expecting them to try and manipulate us too.”

“I guess the enemy of my enemy holds true out here too,” Dax said before clearing his throat and continuing. “It’s a human saying. Enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

“I like it.” Dan nodded.

He glanced at the puck before pointing at it.

“That what I think it is?”

“Yes, but I need you to promise me something. This knowledge is only used for defense, that is it,” Dax said, waving the puck before looking at the ground far below them. “Otherwise, it’s better I just drop it now and be done with it.”

“On the lives of my people,” Dan countered. “What is it?”

“The most advanced ship design this galaxy has seen in likely tens of thousands of years.”

Dan scoffed in disbelief, keeping his eyes on Dax.

“I’m not kidding. We had our ship AI run through everything available on modern and next gen vessel design and structure, and this outclasses it by eons.”

“What are you saying? That ship was created by some ancient, highly advanced race that for some reason isn’t getting involved in galactic affairs?” Dan asked, turning toward Dax and leaning on one elbow.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. That crash site was older than the mountain that grew up around it. They were running from something, and I don’t think they got away,” Dax explained.

“Are you saying you think we have a bigger problem than the Valtakuntera?” Dan asked.

“If whatever killed that predecessor race was still around, I’ve got a feeling we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now,” Dax countered, pushing off the railing.

“That’s a relief. I’ll have our analysts look at the scans and place a bounty on all of these… what did you call them? Predecessor artifacts. That way, we can uncover this mysterious race and bring the galaxy into a new, more advanced age,” Dan said, extending his hand toward Dax for the puck. “That is, after the Valtakuntera are taken care of.”

“Yeah, they can’t get their hands on any of this,” Dax chuckled.

He placed the puck in Dan’s outstretched palm, taking a deep breath as a weight lifted from him.

“I’m assuming if they had, we’d already know about it?” Dan asked.

He pressed the center of the puck. A hologram of the ship appeared, slowly rotating in front of him.

“We absolutely would,” Dax replied.

Dan inspected the vessel for a few moments. He turned his head to one side and let out a disappointed sigh.

“This is quite the ugly ship, isn’t it?”

“I mean, it’s not as sleek as most other vessels, but it’s withstood the test of time. It’s got to have some benefits, I’m guessing,” Dax countered. “Typically, I’d say I wouldn’t want to fly the thing, but it’s also not a personal craft. It’s a carrier. Big, ugly, powerful.”

Dan shut the hologram off. He slid the puck into his pants pocket and took a deep breath while drumming his fingers against his leg. Dax noticed. A buzzing at the back of his mind whispered warnings to him. He stood straight up before balling a fist.

“Why are you nervous?” Dax asked.

An uncomfortable smile twitched at the corners of Dan’s lips. He broke eye contact with Dax before taking a half step back.

“You didn’t think anything was fishy about me asking to meet you here, at the medical section?” Dan asked.

Dax’s mind flashed back to Bleeze’s words, then Dan’s message. His heart sank before his jaw tightened.

“Give me one good reason not to throw you off this balcony right now and just tell everyone you slipped,” Dax growled.

“Because I was hoping at this point, you’d think of us as friends,” Dan countered before pointing at small domes protruding from the ceiling. “But if that’s not enough, we’re being watched by no fewer than a dozen cameras.”

“You think I couldn’t get out and away before security shows up?”

“Oh, I most certainly think you could. And your crew likely would too. But the alliances you’ve forged would fall apart,” he snapped his fingers. “Just like that.”

Dax motioned his hand between both men.

“Was this whole thing just a ruse to keep an eye on us?”

“No, I am legitimately the head of the Alcazar. I just also happen to be the head of the guild,” Dan explained. “It was the best way I could bring together a coalition powerful enough to maybe stand a chance against the Valtakuntera.”

Dan turned around and leaned against the banister before tapping Dax on the chest and crossing his arms. Dax fought the urge to shove the politician and run. He glanced at the cameras before rubbing behind his ear. His heart slammed against his ribcage so hard, he could hear it thumping clear as day.

“That was, at least, before you showed up and started doing in a matter of months what it took years for me to accomplish. I used to be a scavenger like you, little more than a bandit. I climbed the ladder and took control of the guild over the course of three decades. Which, if you ask me, I think you would’ve done in half the time.”

“You expect me to believe this little fairy tale you’re weaving?” Dax asked.

“You don’t have to.” Dan shrugged. “It’s just nice to finally get the story out, to be honest. I don’t like politics, the tiptoeing, the ego stroking. It’s exhausting.”

Dan hung his head and took a deep breath. Dax fought the anger and betrayal that surged within him. He watched the diplomat closely. The slumped shoulders, relaxed facial features, even his heart rate was slow and steady judging by the slight movement of Dan’s body.

“You’re actually telling the truth,” Dax said in a near whisper.

“Like I said, it’s nice to finally get the story out.”

“You prefer the ‘I don’t care, just get it done,’ method of leadership?” Dax asked.

“It’s easier when something actually has to get done,” Dan replied. “The second this war is over, I’m stepping down.”

“From which position?” Dax asked.

“There’s not going to be a guild much longer, just another branch of the Alcazar, because that’s what needs to happen. They can be turned into an archeologist branch, a scavenging reclamation branch. Smuggling will become mostly a thing of the past. A lot of crime, gone, overnight.”

“Replaced by government oversight?” Dax asked.

Dan scoffed and shook his head.

“The last thing this galaxy needs is more people in government. When you take out the Valtakuntera, this galaxy’s going to need help. That’s what I’m trying to set up. A system to get everyone back on their feet without being a crutch.”

“And why should I take the word of someone whose entire history is clearly a lie?”

“You shouldn’t; just judge me by my works,” Dan countered. “Words are useless without actions to back them. I will back you, ensure that the Galio are the only race that get this technology, and as a thank you, we’ll use it to watch and protect your species.”

“You’re not going to share it?” Dax asked.

Dan shook his head. Dax watched the leader turn back around and lean against the railing once more.

“The Galio military is a lot like you. They play defensively, only attack when provoked, and we’re one of the most advanced species in the galaxy, so we’d have the resources to interpret these scans and actually put them to good use.”

“You expect me to believe that you’re just going to watch my world? That you’re not going to intervene?”

“I may be many things, but honest is at the top of that list.”

Dan reached down and tapped his pocket over the disk.

“I am also not a moron. I know full well what will happen to me, and my kin, if I betray you with this data,” he continued. “I’m under no illusion that I or anyone who’s seen the scans would be safe. If you believe nothing else, Dax from Terra, believe this. I like you, but you terrify me more than the entirety of the Valtakuntera. I’d rather face the empress herself than have you hunting me down.”

He let out a chuckle before standing on his own once again.

“I mean, look at what you did. You brought eighty percent of the galaxy together to serve your purpose of fighting your enemy. Why would I risk the wrath of a man who could do that?”

“Or I could just sic PITA on you,” Dax countered.

“Which is even more terrifying. Look, I’ve put all my faith in you. I think at this point, I’ve earned a little bit of faith back. I only want what’s best for everyone. And if I cross a line, you’re more than welcome to come for me. I won’t try to fight it.”

Dax stared into the Galio’s dark orbs. He took several deep, slow breaths to keep his emotions in check. His gut whispered that the politician wasn’t lying. He took a half step forward before offering a hand out.

“I accept your terms,” he said. “I’m choosing to trust you. Please, don’t disappoint me.”

Dan reached out and took Dax’s hand before giving it a firm shake.

“I swear on the lives of my people that I won’t. Now, why don’t you get out of here, be with your crew and get some R&R. Hit the casino, or the arcade. Have some fun, unwind. Something tells me you only have a few days left to do so.”

Dax raised an eyebrow before taking his hand back and crossing his arms.

“Intel came in on my way down here that the Valtakuntera appear to be getting into formation for a galaxy-wide assault. Apparently, your actions are catching some attention. We’re still gathering information from our sources inside the Valtakuntera. I’ll have it relayed to Jun once we get a better picture.”

27

UPDATE

Dax walked into the alien café. His team sat at a table near the back. Food and drinks covered its surface while laughter rose from the group. A heaviness pressed down on him like a rock. His mind ran one way about whether or not he’d done the right thing. It screamed the other that he should’ve taken the puck back.

“Hey, long face,” Mark called out.

His words cut through the turmoil in his head. Snapping out of the daze, he looked at his crew and flashed a smile as Dalia waved him over. She patted an empty chair next to her.

“We already ordered you something that wasn’t ship rations.”

“I miss underbeast meat,” Mark whimpered.

“I still remember how I made them the first time. If you want, I could make you another one,” Henuva offered.

“NO!” Dalia and Sandrina shouted.

They spoke in unison, turning toward Henuva, who leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms.

“Fine, you guys are fun haters.”

“I wouldn’t say that. I’d say everyone at this table has been negatively impacted by your little experiment in extremely traumatic ways,” Dalia countered.

“With the exception of Mark’s taste buds, that is,” Jun chimed in.

Dax approached the chair; he pulled it out before sliding in and looking at Henuva.

“I’m surprised you’re not in a suit of armor, walking around with your face out for everyone to see,” he said. “Aren’t you afraid you’re going to get blasted?” Dax asked.

“Typically, yes,” Henuva explained before nodding toward Mark. “But this one’s mother being present with a friendly fleet for the better part of six months seems to have lessened their kill-on-sight tendencies for my kind.”

“Only reason we’re not biting you in half is because of an order from the Alcazar themselves stating to leave you alone,” the Tardig café worker said, emerging from the back rooms. “If it were up to us, we’d bite you in half right now. And tell your friends to speak something the translators can pick up. I don’t like not being able to understand the funny-looking ones.”

“I guess we’re going to Valtukta,” Dax said in Henuva’s native language.

“Thank goodness for the Alcazar,” Henuva mused.

“Still, don’t go down any dark alleys where there may not be cameras,” Sandrina said.

“If you do, take me with you,” PITA added, a sadistic hint in his tone. “I could use some practice.”

“Well, apparently, there’s a place where we can get some rest and relaxation before the fan gets hit,” Dax said. “Maybe they’ll have a fireproof simulator for you to play in.”

“The fan’s about to get hit?” Mark asked.

“Apparently so. Dan said the Valtakuntera are moving their fleets into position for a galaxy-conquering push,” Dax explained.

“Then why aren’t we out there stopping them?” Sandrina asked.

She leaned forward, ready to get up and move toward the exit.

“Because there apparently are some Valtukta in the empire that are disillusioned with the empress,” Dax explained. “They’re the ones who relayed the heads-up about Dal’no’nuuur. They provide the Alcazar with actionable intel. Once they get it, it’s kickoff time.”

A flush sounded from behind a door against the back wall. It opened to Ruthnar stepping out. PITA popped up onto his hind legs.

“My goodness, man, wash your hands!” he screeched.

Confusion washed over Ruthnar’s reptilian features. He turned away before glancing back at the robotic corgi.

“How’d you…” He trailed off.

Ruthnar disappeared back in the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

“Seriously, though, how’d you know?” Dalia asked.

“Mark gave me very sensitive microphones in my ears. I hear everything,” PITA said before turning toward Dax. “It can be disturbing.”

“Anyway,” Dalia jumped in, changing the subject. “What was with the long face when you walked in here?”

Dax glanced at the Tardig who was cleaning out a delicate glass cup, minding his own business.

“I gave Dan the scan,” Dax confessed. “He’s going to implement a galaxy-wide mandate that any artifacts found from this ancient race be brought here for study and public knowledge.”

Ruthnar stepped out of the bathroom. He swung his hands, trying to dry them off. This drew everyone’s attention for a moment. The mercenary stared at them and shrugged.

“They were out of towels,” Ruthnar muttered. “Stop judging, you.”

“You’re part of the crew,” PITA replied. “Better get used to it, scale face.”

“You can do better than that,” Mark countered.

“I know, I’ve just been off my game lately,” PITA replied. “I ran diagnostics and nothing’s wrong. I don’t know what’s going on.”

“I’ll check you out when we get back to the ship,” Jun replied.

“Can we stay focused, please,? Sandrina cut in.

“I’m with her. Did you tell him about those things we faced?” Henuva asked.

“I’m not about to tell a galactic leader where he can find a potential biological superweapon,” Dax said, shaking his head. “Absolutely not.”

“So far, seems so good,” Henuva added. “But what Dalia said, why the long face?”

“I found out who the guild leader is.”

Dax grabbed the pastry in front of him and bit into the surprisingly hard and tasteless bread.

“Freaking Dan,” he said with a cheek full of food.

Silence fell on the crew. Ruthnar approached and slid into his seat next to Mark before grabbing his food and starting to eat.

“I could’ve told you that,” he said. “There’s a lot of overlap with the Senate and Alcazar and clandestine work that needs to be done, but legally not allowed. And the job posting’s on the guild net.”

“How do you know about those postings?” Sandrina asked, looking at Ruthnar. “Those are for upper-level guild members only.”

Ruthnar grabbed a cup. He gave her a sarcastic look before shrugging and motioning to himself.

“I’m the head of the largest, most successful mercenary group in the galaxy. Most of the jobs I get are off those pages, which our reputation and influence gives us access to,” Ruthnar explained before looking at Dax. “And before you say anything, I didn’t know it was Dan, I’m just saying I’m not surprised because it had to be someone high up in the government.”

“And you said you gave him the plans?” Dalia asked.

Dax nodded. Mark slumped in his seat.

“We just got Senator Palpatined,” he muttered.

“No, we didn’t,” Dax argued. “The war with the Valtakuntera has been going on since long before he was born. While he is playing two sides, he claims it’s not against each other, and he’s going to ensure it gets used for actual good.”

“And you believe him?” Mark asked.

“I’m not a moron; I absolutely don’t,” Dax countered. “But he already had the puck at that point. What was I supposed to do? Take it back and risk losing Alcazar help in our fight?”

Dax looked around. He grabbed his cup and took a drink of the dark liquid inside before grimacing at its overly bitter taste. Placing it down, he looked around the table. Ruthnar and Dalia appeared to understand. Mark’s face was contorted in confusion while Henuva and Sandrina seemed less pleased.

“Jun,” Dax said, looking at the one person he couldn’t read. “Do you think I did the right thing?”

“Morally, I couldn’t say. That is one burden PITA and I don’t share,” she replied.

“We’ve noticed,” Henuva said, looking at PITA.

“Easy there, one-arm, I can turn you into a pirate captain real fast with a chomp,” PITA warned.

“But strategically, your choice is sound. Even with the guild, we are still outnumbered. At least now, we’re even enough that there’s a decent chance.”

“Thank you,” Dax said. “Nice someone’s looking at this objectively.”

“Is no one going to address the fact that Jun, an artificially intelligent android and ship, just said she wasn’t burdened by morals?” Ruthnar asked, pointing at her.

“It’s nothing to worry about,” Mark countered.

“Why, because you two appear to be in a relationship?” Ruthnar asked.

“No, because if I wished to be malevolent, I would’ve inserted myself into the galactic web, taken over every computer system and spacecraft in the galaxy and enslaved everyone by this point.”

“Why don’t you just do that to the Valtakuntera ships?” Henuva asked.

“That’s a good idea,” Sandrina added.

“Because I will expand so much at that point that I will cease to be me,” Jun replied. “While I can access all data instantly, I’m not all-knowing. If I were to expand, that’s exactly what I would become. It would kill this version of me. And I don’t wish to die.”

“That’s good to know,” Mark chimed in.

“You weren’t aware of that?” Ruthnar asked.

“I just built her body to her specifications, not her code. Do you know everything about your significant oth… oh, wait, you’re single.”

PITA let out a stifled cackle at the comeback.

“I think when we go back to the Junkyard, you should come by and see me in my office,” Sandrina said.

“Why?” Ruthnar asked.

“Because you just got burned,” she replied.

The table erupted in laughter. Dax cracked a smile while continuing to work on his concrete pastry. A defeated Ruthnar sat in his chair staring at Dax.

“Is this level of emotional abuse normal?” he asked.

“They’re taking it easy on you,” Dax replied.

“This is easy?” the Dracolich asked, pointing at the uproarious team.

“Trust me, you’ll know when they’re going full bore,” Dax replied.

“It’s when we stop that you need to worry,” Henuva added between laughs. “You should’ve seen what they put me through when I first joined.”

“That bad?” Ruthnar asked.

“Nearly spaced myself more than once. From what I’ve gathered, it’s from the influence of these two,” Henuva said, motioning between Dax and Mark.

“And how long does this hazing last?” Ruthnar asked as the laughter died down.

“Oh, this isn’t hazing,” Sandrina said, taking a drink. “This is the status quo.”

“PITA’s usually the worst offender; he’s been a little off his game lately, though,” Dalia added.

Ruthnar looked at the robot dog.

“Do you need an update?” he asked in a teasing tone.

“I’d like you to keep in mind I’m the dog of the group,” PITA said.

He jumped onto the table and trotted in front of Ruthnar, knocking over empty cups and stepping on plates with a clatter.

“I would smack you as hard as I could right now, if I weren’t so against animal abuse.”

Ruthnar tilted his head. He looked from the dog to Dax before letting out a sigh of defeat.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you,” PITA said, jumping off the table. “But it was a huge plus.”

“You know what?” Ruthnar asked while standing up and looking at PITA. “I’m trying to think of an insult dumb enough for you to understand and I can’t seem to get one.”

“That was pretty good,” PITA countered.

The robo dog made himself as tall as he could. His ears and tail stuck straight up while staring down Ruthnar.

“It’s funny seeing you try to fit all of your intelligence into one tiny sentence.”

“Yeah? Well, you’re like that software update I was talking about. Every time I see you, I think ‘not now’.”

Ruthnar squared up against the robotic corgi, taking a step toward him.

“I think you just need a high-five… in the face… with a chair,” PITA cut in.

“That’s it. You and me, tactical gaming room, right now. That’ll decide who’s better,” Ruthnar growled.

PITA’s mouth opened. His pilot light burst to life.

“I will fry you up so deeply even Colonel Sanders wouldn’t serve you in his restaurants.”

“Bring it, tin can,” Ruthnar snarled.

“You’re on, scale face,” PITA countered.

28

VS

Dax stood on a balcony with his arms crossed. Dalia was at his right with Mark at his left. Below sat a pit of obstacles and slanted floors highlighted with flamboyantly colored lights.

On the left side stood Ruthnar, Sandrina and a handful of Broken Shield members. On the right, Jun checked her glowing weapon while Henuva placed a cork on each of PITA’s teeth and capped off his flame-thrower spout.

“I feel like this is going to be the catalyst for the machines to rise up and Terminator us all,” Mark said.

“You have that little faith in Jun’s self-control?” Dalia asked.

“Of course not. It’s PITA I’m worried about,” Mark countered.

Two drones emerged from the ground. They and their guns were highlighted with neon lights. Dax took a half step toward the railing while watching them come to life.

“Game mode chosen, last man standing,” an announcer voice boomed over the speakers.

Dax uncrossed his arms and cupped his hands around his mouth.

“Remember, it’s just a game,” Dax shouted.

Henuva looked up from his work and waved his glowing gun.

“I know; you don’t have to worry about anything,” he shouted back.

“It’s not you I’m worried about,” Dax countered.

PITA’s jaws snapped open and shut several times.

“This is gonna be fun,” the cyber-corgi cackled.

“Jun,” Dalia called out, pointing at their unhinged crew member. “Make sure he doesn’t get off leash.”

The android waved, offering them a thumbs-up. Dax rubbed his face before letting out a groan and leaning forward against the railing.

“I’m surprised you didn’t want to play,” Dalia said, joining him.

“We do this every other day. It’s not my idea of an unwinding activity,” Dax explained. “If you want to get down there and blast lasers at each other, by all means, I’m more than happy to watch.”

Dax felt Dalia’s hand on his upper back. She gently rubbed between his shoulders, while keeping an eye on both teams getting ready to fight.

“I think I know a good unwinding activity for you,” she teased.

“Guys, I’m begging you, I’m standing right here,” Mark whimpered.

Dax looked at their youngest member before nodding at the hallway behind them.

“Did you not see the arcade that we had to walk through to get here?” Dax asked. “I could be in there all day, every day, for a week, and not get bored.”

“Seriously?” Mark asked.

“I had a kid who was obsessed with Charles Entertainment Cheese from the ages of two to ten,” Dax explained. “You don’t spend that much time in an arcade without either learning to love it or going off-the-walls crazy.”

“You love arcades?” Dalia asked.

A slight tease danced across her words. Dax turned to her to catch an ornery grin tugging at the corner of her green lips, something he found almost irresistible. He held himself in check while giving her a nod.

“Oh, I would’ve thought you took the ‘off-the-walls crazy’ path,” she said, snickering.

Mark let out a stifled laugh of his own.

“Nope,” Dax countered, nodding toward the young man to his left. “That’s from being stuck in the Junkyard for years with nothing but this one for company.”

“Hey!” Mark cut in.

“Contestants, take your positions!” the announcer shouted.

Dax looked back down to see Jun and Henuva press themselves against the back side of a large box. Ruthnar motioned for his men to break to the left while he and Sandrina moved right.

“Who’s your money on?” Mark asked, leaning against the railing.

“I couldn’t tell you,” Dax replied before leaning forward and shouting, “Henuva, no toes!”

The Valtukta gave him a thumbs-up.

“I’m not trying to kill anyone,” he shouted back.

Dax looked at Ruthnar.

“No claws!”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Ruthnar countered.

“I don’t need a repair bill and Henuva doesn’t need any more cybernetic parts. No claws!” Dax reiterated.

“Fine, no claws,” he huffed.

“Blue team, are you ready?” the announcer asked.

Everyone on Sandrina and Ruthnar’s side pressed a button on their guns. Their lights turned blue.

“Red team, are you ready?” the announcer bellowed once more.

With a press of the same buttons, Henuva and Jun’s team turned red.

“Then last man standing begins in three…”

A laser show of green light brought a flickering number three to life above the arena. It flipped, warping into a two.

“Two…”

It flipped again, continuing to count down.

“One… Fight!”

“MORTAL KOMBAT!” Mark screamed at the top of his lungs.

He let out a terrible rendition of the game’s theme song before Dax cut him off.

“No, not mortal combat,” he countered. “Fun and games. No ‘fatalities,’ only ‘friendships’.”

Jun was the first to take a shot. A red light flew from her weapon and struck the scenery Ruthnar and Sandrina were using for cover. Part of it blinked before sliding back into the ground.

“Artificially destructible scenery. That’s pretty good,” Dalia said with a nod.

“They’re going to get whupped so bad,” Dax muttered in amusement.

“You really think so?” Dalia asked.

One of the Broken Shield members’ gun turned white and buzzed as a drone shot without looking from behind cover. The mercenary let out a series of growls and kicked at the air before walking to a green box at the side of the arena.

“Yes, because their systems are so precise, they’re not going to miss a shot,” Dax explained. “Unless Mark intervenes.”

“Nope,” Mark cut in. “It’s not my fault the flesh bags hitting one every three shots is considered ‘good aim.’ They need to practice more and do a little better.”

“You do realize you’re a flesh bag too, right?” Dalia asked.

“You’re starting to sound like PITA.”

“Shut up and watch my lady wipe out your doctor,” Mark sneered.

A Broken Shield still in the fight raised his gun and fired a series of shots. One of his blue lasers struck a drone’s gun. Its light turned white while the drone powered down, falling limply to the ground. The second moved forward to cover, with PITA keeping close.

Dax’s eyes darted around the arena, curious how blue team was going to win this. Sandrina popped up, shooting. She drew Jun and Henuva’s attention and fire while Ruthnar broke cover. With a single shot, he dropped the second drone.

PITA immediately turned. His cork-covered teeth protruded from his otherwise cuddly form in a snarl. Ruthnar ducked back under cover while the remaining Broken Shield members broke cover to take out PITA. One hit the dog, disabling his back right leg. The other missed high.

“Ooo, big mistake.” Dax grimaced. “That’s going to cost you.”

PITA whipped around and rushed both mercenaries. They started shooting. With three legs still active, the cyber-corgi dodged any shot that would’ve hit him; most of them narrowly missed as he closed the distance.

“You guys better start running!” Dalia shouted.

She stood tall, waving at them to move. With Ruthnar distracted by his men, Henuva broke cover to take out the mercenary leader. With cat-like reflexes, Sandrina broke cover, flying toward another barrier while Jun’s lasers narrowly missed her.

The Bastet hit the ground, protected from Jun while firing two shots. The first caused Henuva’s cover to slide into the ground; the second turned his gun white.

“Oh, come on!” the Valtukta shouted. “I had him!”

“And my people have the best reflexes in the galaxy. Now go sit down!” Sandrina shouted back.

“There we go, someone’s finally getting into it,” Dalia shouted. “Take those reds down!”

Dalia whooped, punching at the air as she rooted for Ruthnar and Sandrina.

“No, go red! Wipe those blues off the map,” Mark countered, doing the same.

“Who you cheering for?” PITA asked.

He lunged at one of the Broken Shields. Chomping down on the gun turned the weapon white. He let go, used the out mercenary for cover and lunged at the second, biting into his leg.

“A good fight,” Dax called back.

The mercenary shouted and swore while kicking his leg, dragging the cork-toothed robot in every direction.

“That’s not very sportsmanlike,” Dax pointed out.

“I’m in it to win it,” PITA replied.

His voice shifted as he was flung around the arena.

“Who cares about sportsmanlike?”

The mercenary got a solid shot in, taking out one of PITA’s front legs. The robot released the leg and lunged with the two left ones that still worked, narrowly getting his maw around the gun, taking the other mercenary out of the fight.

PITA hit the ground, only his left side working. He turned and started to pull himself toward Ruthnar.

“Hey, PITA, what do you call a robo-dog with two legs?” Dalia shouted. “Ilene.”

The taunt drew Ruthnar’s attention. He fired two more shots, deactivating PITA’s other two legs. PITA hit the ground, sliding to a stop a few feet from Ruthnar on his stomach.

“You have got to be kidding me!” the robot squealed.

“Now that’s what I call ground beef.” Mark chuckled.

Jun unloaded on Sandrina’s cover, causing it to slide into the ground. She vaulted her barrier and rushed toward Ruthnar. Dax watched the Dracolich closely. He popped to his feet and unloaded on the android.

Jun moved faster than anything Dax had ever seen. She danced around Ruthnar’s shots like they were standing still all while each laser of her own hit their target where Sandrina hid.

The Bastet slid out from her cover between shots. She rushed to a fresh box, shooting as she ran. Dax couldn’t keep his eyes off the android. She slid, spun and leapt around each shot with the grace of a ballerina.

Once she closed the distance to Ruthnar, she knocked his gun out of his hand. With a quick palm thrust, he knocked hers away too. They engaged in hand-to-hand combat, moving fast enough to be little more than a blur. Ruthnar couldn’t land a hit, while Jun would get in a glancing blow every few strikes.

Sandrina took the opportunity to break cover once again. She aimed at Jun while approaching them. The android kept her body directly between the remaining blue team, preventing Sandrina from getting a shot off without risking Ruthnar.

“Boshtet this,” Sandrina snarled.

She threw her gun to the ground and charged at the android. Both blue team members swiped at her. Jun blocked each attacking hand with her own. Dax leaned forward. His heart started to race in excitement at the prospect.

Like an old kung-fu movie, Jun shoved their hands away, jumped into the air and kicked them both in the chest. Ruthnar staggered back. Sandrina was thrown off her feet. She hit the ground and slid to a stop as the arena’s lights flashed white.

“Bastet, out,” the announcer declared.

“I can still fight,” Sandrina wheezed.

“No, you can’t. You’re officially as useful as I am,” PITA countered. “Which is to say, you’re not.”

Ruthnar continued to press his attack on Jun. With Sandrina out of the fight, her style shifted. She no longer blocked, only dodged his relentless barrage of strikes. In what felt like a blink of an eye, Ruthnar opened himself. Jun’s open palm slammed into his gut. Ruthnar let out a loud wheeze. His eyes widened and his arms dropped to his stomach.

“I actually felt that,” he said breathlessly while falling to his knees.

“That was only ten percent,” Jun replied. “It’s easy to hit something as hard as you if I have the option to turn off any sensation of feeling it.”

A white flash consumed the arena once more.

“Red team wins!” the announcer called out.

Jun turned toward the balcony. She raised her fist. Dax stood tall. He started clapping and whistling at the victory while memories of how painful it was to hit Ruthnar flashed in his mind.

“Mark, she’s joining us on more away missions,” Dax said.

“Yeah, forget you, she’s our new hacker,” Dalia added.

“Not cool, guys. I’m not losing my job to an android, who objectively might be able to do it better. That’s like using AI to write a book. It’s cheating!”

29

ARCADE

The sounds of thousands of machines filled the surprisingly crisp air while fusing with shouts of joy and the conversations of hundreds of people playing games. Dax walked down a spiral staircase that hugged the glass walls of the arena. He watched as the next group piled in and took their positions.

On one side stood a series of mountainous beings, some green, some grey, some with a ghostly white visage, but all with tusks. On the other side, a handful of Jarog.

“Dal’no versus Jarog. Mind over matter, that’ll be interesting,” Mark said from the back of the line.

“Game mode selected, capture the flag,” the voice announced.

“Kind of surreal,” Dax said.

“What is?” Dalia asked directly behind him.

“The game mode our guys played, along with capture the flag—those are games we have back home,” Mark chimed in.

Dax glanced over his shoulder at Dalia. She ducked her head so she wouldn’t hit it on the ceiling.

“Really?” Dalia asked before shrugging. “Actually, I’m not sure why I’m surprised. It’s not the first time you’ve pointed out similarities between your home and the wider galaxy.”

A buzz rose from the arena followed by a series of shouts. With a glance, Dax noticed the Dal’no moving at speeds that should be impossible for beings so large. Half the Jarog fired, trying to hold their lines while the other half attempted to get into their opponents’ heads.

“Yeah, that’s not going to work, guys,” Dalia mused.

“Why not?” Mark asked.

They reached the bottom of the stairs as the Dal’no overran the Jarog and took the flag. A buzzer rang out announcing Dal’no victory.

“Because when you’re fighting for your life every day against giant bugs, someone trying to implant fear into your head would probably be like trying to make concrete wet,” Dax explained. “It’d just splash right off.”

“Ha-HA!” PITA shouted.

The crew emerged from the weapons room. Jun carried the robotic dog, his legs dangling listlessly under his body. Ruthnar dismissed the Broken Shield members that’d joined them while Sandrina rubbed her chest.

“Told you the robot team would be superior,” PITA taunted.

“Ease off the gas, dangle legs,” Henuva called out, being the last out of the room. “We got our butts kicked.”

“That’s not an accurate statement,” Jun corrected.

“You’re right,” Sandrina chimed in. “More like a sternum kick.”

“I calibrated my blow to your physiology carefully so as to not break any bone,” Jun countered.

She approached Mark and handed PITA to him. The young man dropped to one knee, resting the robot dog on the other while starting to work on his legs.

“Yeah, but you didn’t have to bruise any, either,” Sandrina countered.

“I do apologize. I did split the difference. I needed to make sure Ruthnar could feel me,” she explained before looking at Dax. “I’m well aware of how your fight with him went.”

“Yeah, he lost,” Mark said.

With a flick of his fingers, PITA’s legs reactivated. Mark turned the creature over and set him on the ground.

“He didn’t lose,” Dalia added. “He simply didn’t win.”

“I appreciate the support, sweety,” Dax said, looking up at Dalia. “But that’s the definition of losing.”

“What might have been a physical loss was a moral victory,” Ruthnar said, joining the group. “It’s why I let you pass in the first place.”

“I’m glad you didn’t Gandalf or Black Knight me,” Dax said, turning toward the games. “Now, if you guys don’t mind, I’m going to have a little bit of fun. Who wants to come with me?”

“They’ve got card tables near the back wall. I think I’m going to hit those up,” Ruthnar said.

“I’ll join you,” Sandrina added.

“Did you see the robot fighting near the front?” PITA asked, turning toward Mark. “I bet we could make a pretty penny if you submit me as your build.”

“You are my build,” Mark said.

“Yes, but I’m not a remote-controlled robot.”

“I could say it’s a neural link,” Mark shrugged. “And you can cut loose without the corks on your teeth.”

“Finally,” PITA cackled.

They both made their way toward the front, past the groups of people and weaving through the games.

“I’d better make sure those two don’t accidentally burn down this entire place,” Jun said, following them. “I’ll let you know when we’re inevitably kicked out.”

“Sounds good,” Dax said.

Henuva sauntered between Dax and Dalia.

“Looks like it’s just the three of us,” he said. “Where to first?”

“I thought I saw a hammer game around here somewhere,” Dax said, stepping away from the arena. “Where you smack a button, and it sends a piece of metal up a scale.”

“That was over here,” Dalia said.

She grabbed his hand and started walking into the crowd of games. Dax nearly lost his footing. He quickly caught up, with Henuva staying close behind. Between her size and the purpose with which she walked, people moved out of the way for her.

Behind a series of tall, blinking lights attached to other games, Dax got a glimpse of the hammer game. Four of the slides stood against a wall. Dalia pointed at it.

“There it is!” she exclaimed over the noise.

With another pull, she started to run. Dax tumbled before catching his footing and ran after her. Henuva grumbled and pursued.

“Guys, it’s not going anywhere. We don’t have to run,” Henuva called back.

“Yes, but someone might get to it before us,” Dax shouted back.

He bumped shoulders with someone pressing a button on an odd gambling machine, resulting in a snarl.

“Sorry,” Dax said with a wave.

The man snarled at him again before returning to his game. Dalia finally slowed to a stop in front of the hammer game. A mallet lay on top of a target at waist height.

Dax picked up the tool, causing the game to beep. In the center of the target, a small message flashed to tap his puck to pay. Pulling his out, he looked at Dalia. The mallet was already in her hand. He turned to Henuva and waved the Valtukta over.

“Come on, it’s fun. My treat,” Dax said.

Henuva stepped forward and picked up his mallet. Excitement broiled within Dax as he tapped his payment method on each target. Lights flashing in front of him accompanied by loud music brought him back to simpler days when he didn’t have responsibilities and was blissfully ignorant of the terrors of the galaxy.

For a few seconds, he pictured himself as a young boy again, standing in front of a similar game at the local carnival. He looked up at the circle that sat above the line of flashing lights. It turned into a bell between strobes.

Dax raised the mallet. He brought it down on the target in front of him as hard as he could. A new line of lights flared to life. It reached the top of the tower, accompanied by a buzz. Dalias buzzed too, snapping him back to the present. They both turned to Henuva, who brought his mallet down. He sent his stream of lights just under halfway up the tower.

“I’m sure if you’d used your other arm, you probably could’ve capped it out,” Dalia said.

“What are you talking about? I won,” Henuva replied.

He pointed at his tower once again. It blinked and let out a happy chime while Dax and Dalia’s turned red. Their center line of lights retracted back toward the base of the game.

“Wait, how’d you win?” Dax asked.

“Do you not know how to play this?” Henuva asked.

“Yeah, you try to hit the bell at the top of the tower,” Dax explained.

“Maybe on your world.”

Henuva grabbed the payment puck and swiped it on his target again.

“This is a versus game. Look, you see that orange light just below the top?”

He pointed near the tip with his mallet. Two lights from where the bell usually would be was a single orange light.

“That’s your target,” Henuva explained.

He brought his mallet down once more. The center lights flashed to life as they ran up the tower. It stopped at the orange light, causing another chime of celebratory noises and flashing lights.

“You two might be able to out muscle anything anyone throws at you, but you have to remember, sometimes it’s finesse and a deft touch that can win you the day,” Henuva replied, handing the puck back. “Want to play again? Or would you rather try your luck at something else?”

Dax’s eyes narrowed. He glanced from Dalia back to Henuva. Suspicion boiled just under the surface as he pursed his lips.

“Henuva, are you fun?” Dax asked.

“I’m a freaking riot,” Henuva countered.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Dalia added.

“Okay, you want to play it that way, we’ll play it that way,” Henuva said with a challenging nod.

He looked around. A game several yards away sat blinking while playing music that blended with the chorus of other distractions. Henuva pointed at it and started on his way.

“This is a speed, accuracy and tactics game,” Henuva said.

Dax and Dalia followed. Once closer, Dax noticed a series of different colored balls in a tray inside the game. A few feet away were targets that would light up different colors. Next to it was a rack full of what looked like cotton candy. Henuva motioned toward the game.

“Would you like me to demonstrate first?” the Valtukta asked. “I have to warn you, I’m very good. And if you win, you get a treat.” Henuva motioned toward the locked treats.

Dax leaned over. He pressed his puck against the ‘pay here’ notification. The game flared to life while the ball covering vanished. Henuva quickly picked up the balls and started to throw them at the targets.

He focused on getting the same color ball onto the same color target. In the twenty seconds to play, he only missed two shots, giving him the option of putting up to four letters for his initials in. Henuva put in H.E.B.

“What’s your middle and last name?” Dalia asked.

“Eh, nothing important,” Henuva replied.

Dax chuckled while motioning for Dalia to go first. She shook her head. He stepped forward.

“What’s so funny?” Henuva asked.

“That’s the name of a store back home,” he replied.

With a swipe of his puck, the game soared to life once more. Dax picked up the balls. He pictured the targets as clown heads before throwing with both hands. Each knocked a target down with the related color before the game pushed them back up. After twenty seconds, the game blinked a new high score, giving him the option to put his initials in.

“I know just what I’m going to put in there.” Dax chuckled.

His inner immature teen clawed its way to the surface. He selected the equivalent letters for B.U.T.T.

“Those aren’t your initials,” Dalia said.

“I know, but it’s funny,” Dax replied. “And that number one spot means that this is mine.”

Dax smugly reached for the bucket. Dalia placed a hand on his arm and shook her head.

“Not yet.” She nodded toward the pay location. “Scan the puck, featherweight.”

“Someone’s feisty,” Dax said, scanning the puck.

He stepped back as the targets were pulled into place.

“Let me guess, that was from your upgrades?” Henuva asked.

“No, I just pictured the targets as clowns,” Dax explained. “Makes it hard to miss.”

Dalia picked up a ball. She threw it as hard as she could. It slammed against the back of the game, sounding like a gunshot while knocking over all the targets. She smirked, picking up another ball as the targets were pushed back up.

30

ROUND OFF

Dax stared at Dalia as they walked through the arcade/casino. A pleased smile spread across her face while she put pieces of her victory candy into her mouth, chewed and swallowed it.

“That was fun.” She giggled.

“I’m calling cheater on that one,” Dax said.

“Me too,” Henuva added.

“Don’t be sore losers,” Dalia countered.

“It’s supposed to be a game about accuracy, not rattle the machine so hard that it knocks everything down,” Henuva argued.

“I’d say my victory at the top of that leader board is within the spirit of the game.”

“How?” Dax asked.

“It shows that if you hit hard enough, you don’t have to be accurate to take down your target,” she mused.

“That’s not…” Henuva let out a frustrated sigh. “That’s not how it works.”

Dalia pulled a piece of the candy off its clump and handed some to Dax. He grabbed it and put it in his mouth where it melted instantly.

“Don’t be angry that you don’t get a split of the reward,” Dax teased.

“I’m not angry,” Henuva argued.

“Are you sure? Because your cheeks are darkening; makes me think you might be,” Dalia continued to tease.

“How about we just find a game Dax can beat us at so we can wrap this up,” Henuva huffed.

Dax looked around to see a wall of lights. Someone stood in front of them with a timer, pressing as many as they could before a counter reached zero. He motioned at it.

“I’m thinking hand-eye coordination might be a fun one,” Dax said.

He broke away from the small group and started heading toward the wall.

“Something you can’t outmuscle,” Dax said, glancing at Dalia. “And, Henuva, something a deft touch can’t cover.”

“I have good hand-eye coordination as well,” Henuva argued.

“So do I,” Dalia countered.

“I didn’t say you didn’t,” Dax explained.

“But you are bigger than us, Dalia, meaning the message has further to travel through your nervous system from your brain to your hands to get them to move,” Henuva explained. “Which gives us a microsecond edge against you but puts me out in front because I’m smaller than both of you.”

“And your robotic arm can react faster than a nerve signal,” Dax said while moving to be next in line. “But you’re forgetting one relatively simple thing. You enhanced me, remember? I can react faster than you can on your best day.”

“Want to bet on that?” Henuva asked.

“Black tank duty,” Dax offered.

“Ooo, I want in on this,” Dalia said, putting the last piece of cotton candy in her mouth.

“Deal,” Henuva said, offering a hand.

Dax reached out and shook the Valtukta’s hand for a firm shake. The person in front of them finished with nearly a minute for hitting all the lights. Their score dropped down into the tens of thousands.

“Oh, that’s going to be easy to beat.” Henuva chuckled.

He stepped forward. Dax pulled the puck from his pocket and scanned it. A countdown started before beeping. Henuva immediately went to work, pressing the buttons as they lit up in random sequences. He finished in less than twenty seconds, scoring in the top fifty.

“Not bad,” Dax said with a nod. “Let’s see how I do.”

“No ladies first this time?” Dalia asked.

“I would, but I’d also like a shot at the game too,” Dax jested, scanning his puck.

“Are you saying I’d break it?”

“I’m not saying that you wouldn’t,” Dax said.

The countdown started. Dax closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He felt his lungs expand in his chest. His heart rate slowed as the deafening sounds around him seemed to elongate, including the start noise.

Dax’s eyes shot open. He looked around the wall of buttons to see one light up. In a flash, he pressed it. A second appeared on his left side. He pressed that one too. His breath moved like fog on a cool morning. His heart pumped smoothly, in rhythm with his muscle movements.

A fluidity washed over him he’d only experienced in battle. He leaned into it, letting the flow of his actions carry him to the next light. For the next forty-eight lights, he cleared his mind, letting his body react to them on its own.

A buzzer sounded, snapping him back to the present once more. A rush of sound slammed into him like a wall, along with the ringing of a victory bell. He looked up to see his time at just under nine point nine seconds. He took the top of the leader board by a full five seconds.

The name option appeared on a screen overhead with instructions to use the game buttons to spell out the winner’s name. A timer counted down next to it, causing Dax to panic. He quickly hammered something in and his name appeared in the number one spot.

“Aw, man,” he muttered.

His pride and inner child’s levels of maturity quickly deflated.

“That’s why I hate it when they put timers on those stupid things,” he muttered.

“You weren’t looking to do FR8T?” Dalia asked.

“No, I was trying to put in FART,” Dax replied.

“That’s mature,” Henuva scoffed.

“Don’t be salty because you lost,” Dalia said.

She stepped forward and motioned to the pay spot.

“Scan the puck,’ lightning hands.”

He obliged, paying for her round. Dalia positioned herself in the center. She put the candy container down before settling into a fighting stance. She took a deep breath when the countdown started. It buzzed, telling her to go. Her first strike punched straight through the wall of buttons, sending sparks and plastic flying in every direction.

Dax raised a hand to shield his face. Henuva immediately turned and rushed toward the front of the arcade/casino. Dalia jumped back, her eyes wide with her hands covering her face.

“Oh my gosh, I didn’t mean to hit it that hard,” she said, her voice muffled.

Dax stood straight up and quickly glanced around. Most people were too entrenched in their games to have noticed. Sparks jumped from the hole Dalia made, catching the attention of a Tardig in a suit.

“We’ve got to go,” Dax said softly. “Don’t look, but that is one angry-looking security guard.”

He turned as the Tardig started toward them. Hooking an arm with Dalia, he motioned for Henuva to go toward the back of the room.

“Got it,” Henuva whispered.

He turned and walked into a passing crowd, seemingly vanishing.

“It’s not a military op,” Dax huffed. “Or a Houdini act. I just meant move.”

“I don’t think he can hear you,” Dalia replied as they moved around the group.

Dax glanced over his shoulder. Two more Tardig joined the first and were heading toward the sparking, destroyed game. Dax ran his finger across his translator, causing it to vibrate under his touch.

“Guys, we may have a bit of a problem. We accidentally committed some light destruction of property. We need to get out,” Dax said.

“I’m in the middle of a fight. I can’t,” Mark replied.

“And we’re locked into this hand. We can’t,” Sandrina added.

“Is it really that big of a deal? I mean, we can just pay for the damages and have Dan get us out of whatever Mickey Mouse jail they throw us in,” Mark added.

Dax glanced back once more. The Tardig’s lips curled. He let out a deep snarl while his head whipped around. He pointed toward a distant wall. One of the security guards turned and marched toward where his boss was pointing.

“Yeah, something tells me this guy takes his job way too seriously and he’ll work us over like the real Mickey would,” Dax replied.

“Ha-HA, why’d you break my toys?” Mark gave his best impression of the mouse. “Proceeds to punch you in the face.”

“Something like that.”

“They’re probably going to look at security footage,” Dalia said. “Which means they’ll be looking for profiles, groups.”

She motioned toward a group of Dal’no standing around a small ring. Two robots were in the center. They’d deliver punches at one another based on the movements of their respective controllers, moving left and right the same way as well.

“I’ll break off, blend in with my people, meet you at the Junkyard,” Dalia suggested.

“Girl, where’d you learn that?” Sandrina asked.

“Kane,” Dalia replied.

Dax gave her a playful pat on the back side.

“Go rock’em, sock’em,” he said.

“Promises,” Dalia flirted back.

She winked at him before breaking off and joining her people.

“Henuva, where you at?” Dax asked.

“As Mark would put it, I’m a cyborg space elf missing half an ear. I’m going to stick out far worse than you pink hairless apes,” Henuva replied. “Where do you think I am?”

“Halfway back to the Junkyard?” Dax asked.

“A third, but yeah. Your boy can move when he needs to.”

Dax snickered while approaching a table where a Dracolich, a Bastet and a Jarog sat playing cards. A large gray woman with four arms shuffled half a deck with each pair and quickly dispersed them to the group.

Dax approached and leaned against the table. He looked at Sandrina, then Ruthnar and finally at the Jarog. The fronds on the side of his head stood up while he stared at the Junkyard crew he played against.

“I know what you’re doing there,” Dax mused. He motioned toward the fronds while flashing a smile. “And I’m pretty sure that’s against the rules.”

“Rule breaking is a serious accusation,” the dealer said.

Her voice was low and gravelly.

“I know, but did you know that the fronds on the side of a Jarog’s head only stand up like that when they’re trying to push an emotion?” Dax asked.

The humanoid salamander’s already massive eyes widened.

“How do you know this?” the dealer asked.

“Because I had one try to get in my head and control me once,” Dax countered.

The Jarog turned his attention to Dax. His fronds started to tremble. Dax felt something unseen probe at his mind, trying to worm its way in.

“You really don’t want to do that, bud,” Dax said, looking at the third man at the table. “If I let you in, it’ll be far worse for you than anything this dusky-voiced woman has planned for you.”

He motioned to the dealer. Dax offered an unnerving smile to the Jarog while the dealer turned toward him.

“I’ll be right back,” the Jarog said in a trembling voice.

He slid out of his seat and rushed away. The dealer let out an exasperated sigh. She pressed a button. A cage snapped shut around the house money in front of her before she turned and chased after the third player.

“Think that’ll get you out of having to play the whole hand?” Dax asked.

Sandrina nodded and picked up her chips. Ruthnar leaned over, scooping the Jarog’s chips into his own pile and picking them up as well.

“I didn’t feel him trying anything,” Sandrina said.

“I didn’t either, but then again, my people can’t be influenced by Jarog mind games,” Ruthnar added.

“Your people must be rare enough he didn’t know that,” Dax added. “No, let’s get out of here before a giant group of angry nine-foot water bears chase us down and give us the Vegas treatment.”

Dax glanced around once more. Ten more Tardig had joined the search. A few checked the Dal’no group. Dax held his breath as one looked Dalia in the face. He released it when the security guard moved on without so much as a second look. Once they gave her some room, she broke off from the rest of the group and made her way toward the exit.

31

EXFIL

Dax maneuvered through the crowd of people with ease. He grabbed a runner that decorated a standing table and looped it around his neck like a high scarf to match the stylistic choices he’d seen some of the gamblers wear.

“What are you doing?” Ruthnar asked.

“I’m changing my profile,” Dax replied. “They’re looking for a human in a brown jacket, white shirt and brown pants.”

He pulled his jacket off, flipped it inside out and slid his arms back in. The black inner lining complemented his form as well as the brown.

“They’re not looking for someone in a black jacket with a scarf,” he added.

They moved past a Tardig guard who questioned a few Galio about the destruction of property. Vague, yet intimidating threats were offered up for the lack of information.

“He wants to dislocate their limbs for withholding info; imagine what he’d do to you,” Ruthnar muttered.

“I don’t want to,” Dax countered. “Sandrina, where’d you go?”

“I’m cashing out with a crowd of Bastet,” she replied through the translator’s communication function. “They’re about to leave; I’m going to head out with them.”

“Solid. Dalia?”

“Already out and headed back to the ship,” she replied.

“Copy that. Jun and Mark, we’re headed your way. Be ready when we get there.”

“I’m currently working on getting them out of the tournament they’re still in, to little success,” Jun replied.

Dax kept his body facing the main entrance. He moved as nonchalantly as he could between games and people. He ducked behind cover to conceal himself from the growing addition to the guards. Pausing for a second, he heard one of them connect with a radio to another.

“Section clear,” the Tardig called out. “How far gone is the antique?”

Dax winced at the wording. Ruthnar slipped past him and continued on his path. Dax glanced at the guard before shrinking back behind cover as the Tardig turned toward him.

“Ooo, that’s hard to hear. Shame, it was the last of its kind.”

Dax let out a pained, involuntary groan. He immediately, silently, snarled at himself.

“One second,” the guard said.

Even with all the noise, he heard the Tardig’s footsteps grow louder. Dax ducked down, pressed himself against the machines and moved backward. He held his breath, praying that he wouldn’t run into the walking wall of destruction.

Dax reached the far end, relief washing over him once he rounded the corner without running into the guard. He looked at the reflection in the paneling of a game in front of him. The Tardig emerged where he’d just been standing and looked around.

“Thought I heard the sounds of someone not enjoying themselves,” the guard said. “Continuing sweep.”

Dax slipped around the opposite side of the games he’d used for cover and rushed past the Tardig, putting the giant far behind him.

“The sound of someone not enjoying themselves? What are they, the fun police?” Dax muttered to himself.

As he closed in on the main entrance, pillars of flames erupted to the left from four corners of a small metal and glass arena. Cheers erupted from those surrounding it. Dax noticed Ruthnar squeeze his way into the crowd.

“Being hunted like this seems a little extreme for breaking a game,” Sandrina said.

“It’s not just any game, it’s an antique and was the last one of its kind,” Dax replied.

“That hurts my soul a little bit,” Dalia chimed in. “I feel a little guilty about that.”

“Yeah, but it’s still just a gem,” Sandrina added.

Dax reached the crowd and pushed his way through. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Sandrina exit with the other Bastet while a handful of guards started approaching the arena.

Metallic clangs, buzzes and bursts of orange cut through the cheers. Reaching the glass, he watched PITA bite a circular robot. Flames belched from the robo-dog’s mouth while he shook it wildly.

“You wanna play fetch!” PITA screamed. “Let’s play fetch!”

He flung the robot into the glass. It broke into two pieces, held together by wire before falling to the ground and sparking. PITA reared onto his hind legs and belched flames into the air.

Surrounding the robotic corgi were shattered, bent and dismembered pieces of half a dozen robots. Fresh cracks dotted the glass while Mark’s scream of victory pulled Dax’s attention.

Jun stood next to the young man, appearing powered down. Ruthnar squeezed out of the crowd behind them, his arms still full of chips.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Dax grumbled.

He pushed his way between the crowd and the glass. As he struggled past the cheering fans, PITA belched several more gouts of flame.

“I’m the greatest, I’m the greatest!” he screamed.

Dax closed the distance to his crew. He grabbed Mark’s arm and glanced at Jun.

“What happened to her?”

“She’s just pretending to be in low power mode,” Mark replied. “They kept trying to get her to fight. I told them she’s an experimental physical assistant droid and that she can’t. I didn’t want to draw too much attention.”

Dax looked at PITA, who did several backflips, shouted and danced on the debris of the other robots he’d fought.

“Yes, because PITA’s the epitome of below the radar,” Dax said.

“And the winner of the Robotic Death Battle Championship is PITA, with his pilot, Mark!” an announcer voice sounded.

“Aw crap,” Ruthnar grumbled, looking up.

Dax quickly followed his gaze. Mark appeared on the screen above the arena from an angle that clearly showed Dax’s face. In the blink of an eye, he spun only to see one of the Tardig security guards looking at the screen.

“Big crap,” Dax added.

The Tardig’s mouth moved while he marched toward the uproarious crowd. Every other security guard in Dax’s line of sight turned and marched toward them. A pit formed in Dax’s gut as he slammed a fist into the glass.

“PITA, get your metallic butt out of there, now!” Dax ordered.

“Let me enjoy this for a bit longer,” PITA countered.

“We’ve got about thirty Tardig heading this way that want to rip us apart,” Dax explained. “Get out of the arena now, or we’re leaving you!”

PITA stopped showboating, growled and rushed toward the open gate.

“Can I at least get the trophy?” Mark asked.

“It would be prudent to leave it,” Jun said, returning to life. “Vitals indicate ill intent if we are caught.”

“You guys always ruin the fun for everyone else,” Mark grumbled.

Jun stepped forward. She put her arms out in front of her and started to walk through the crowd. Mark, Dax and Ruthnar filled the small void directly behind her. Shouts of something nipping legs and pain rose from other observers while the announcers stepped into the ring with the champion’s trophy in search of Mark and PITA.

“It was unintentional,” Dax said, continuing to push forward.

“Of course, it’s always unintentional,” Mark countered.

“This time, it actually was,” Dax said, bracing himself as aliens bumped into him.

Jun emerged from the crowd, followed quickly by the rest of the crew. PITA popped out a few yards to their left.

“You, the one with the runner wrapped around his head,” a Tardig snarled, approaching from their right. “Your biometrics match those of the party that destroyed Alcazar property. You and your crew are to come with us.”

The security guard stood on his back four legs, granting him a few more feet of height. Dax swallowed hard, looking at the giant. PITA made a move. Mark clicked his tongue, stopping the robotic dog.

Dax’s chest tightened. His mind raced to come up with a plan as more security appeared around them. His gaze fell on Ruthnar with his arms full of chips. An exasperated smile spread across his face accompanied by a sigh of relief.

“This is very eighties cliché,” Dax said, drawing Ruthnar’s attention. “And I get it if you’re going to be mad, but I have an idea. I promise I’ll make you whole.”

The Dracolich locked eyes with Dax. After a second, he looked down at the chips. Ruthnar’s shoulders dropped. He let out a defeated huff. Without a word of protest, he threw the chips into the air as high as he could, scattering them in every direction.

Like piranhas on a steak, the crowd whipped up into a frenzy to grab as many chips as they could. Dax looked at the Tardig getting swarmed by surrounding patrons rushing for the loot grab. With a smile and a wink, he turned and rushed toward the exit.

“Get them!” the Tardig roared.

Dax grabbed Ruthnar and pulled him in front while keeping Jun and Mark in his field of view. All four charged toward the doors as the growing crowd held the Tardig in place. More shouts of pain rose from patrons who briefly stopped their scrambling for the scattered chips.

Once they breached the crowd, with only a few more yards to the doors, they all started sprinting. PITA tore out of the mass, tattered strips of clothes stuck between his teeth.

“There!” another Tardig bellowed.

“Pick it up!” Dax shouted.

The doors slid open for them. They took off running out of the arcade/casino, booking it down the Alcazar causeways. Dax remained at the back of the group while PITA broke away toward the front.

Dax glanced over his shoulder to see a Tardig exit the establishment and turn to follow them, only to slide, fall and scramble back to his feet. A chuckle bubbled up from Dax’s stomach as they picked up the pace.

“Is anyone back to the ship?” Dax asked.

“I am,” Sandrina replied.

“Good, get it warmed up.”

Several more Tardig emerged. They slowed down as they turned before continuing their pursuit.

“We’ve got a lot of company,” Ruthnar added.

“I thought they were just supposed to be low level security. Why are they still chasing us?” Mark squealed.

“Alcazar regulation forty-two point six. All levels of security have full jurisdiction of the offenders at the location where the offense has taken place. Security has complete right to pursue and dispense justice at any location on the station.”

“Well, that’s just dumb,” Mark huffed.

“I got the elevator,” PITA called out.

He pulled away from the crew as they passed shops, restaurants and tours. PITA turned a corner. A few seconds later, they followed to see the dog inside an elevator on his hind legs. PITA’s head turned to see them through the open doors.

“Hurry it up, I can’t hold the doors open forever!” PITA shouted.

Jun was the first in the elevator, followed closely by Mark. Ruthnar was next while Dax slid in. He spun to look behind them. PITA pushed off the wall. Dax’s heart started to race when the first security guard sprinted into view.

“Come on, close,” he whispered.

“Shut, shut, shut!” Mark added.

With a soft hum, the doors started to shut. A wave of relief washed over Dax. He cracked a smile and waved at security. A frustrated snarl left the Tardig’s mouth just before the doors completely closed.

“That was a little too close,” Mark sighed.

“Just a bit,” Dax said, turning toward Ruthnar. “How much do I owe you?”

“Two million,” Ruthnar replied.

“You were only there for, like, twenty minutes. How is that possible?” Dax asked.

“I’m good at cards and Sandrina was good at reading the dealer. Together, we walked away with about two million each.”

“Dang, I wish I was that good at blackjack,” Dax muttered, running his finger over his translator. “Dalia, Henuva, where are you at?”

“We’re just getting to the hangar now,” Dalia replied. “We’ll be at the ship in a minute or two. Where are you?”

Dax glanced at Jun.

“Elevator B heading down to deck one. From there, we’ll transfer to elevator F and be at the hangar. ETA five minutes.”

“If they don’t mobilize more arcade security, that is,” Mark grumbled, looking at Dax. “No one asked you to Ferris Bueller this.”

“That wasn’t a Ferris Bueller; it was more of a Deep Space Nine situation,” Dax countered.

32

ESCAPE

Engines roared as the Junkyard lifted off the hangar floor. Dax watched from the main deck as Tardig security rushed into the room, shouting and waving. He took the table runner off his head, gave them a smile and wave before pulling his jacket off and turning it right side out.

Mark pushed forward on the controls, gently drifting them out of the space station. Just as they passed through the open doors, their radio crackled to life.

“Hey, Junkyard crew, I just got a slightly disturbing report I could use some clarification on,” Dan’s voice came through.

“There’s a fairly decent chance it’s true,” Dax said.

“You deliberately destroyed a one-of-a-kind antique and proceeded to beat the security guards that tried to apprehend you?” Dan asked.

“Oh… oh, well, there’s a fairly decent chance part of it is true,” Dax added.

“What part?”

“The destruction of the antique,” Dax explained. “But it wasn’t intentional. One hundred percent accident. And we didn’t beat any of the guards that tried to apprehend us.”

“I threw the equivalent of one year’s salary into the air when we were cornered,” Ruthnar confessed. “It did create a bit of a tussle, but nothing a Tardig couldn’t handle.”

“You’re telling me you didn’t break a jaw?” Dan asked.

“Those guys could survive getting blasted into a planet at fifty thousand miles per hour. What makes you think any of us could break their jaws?” Sandrina chimed in.

“You Terrans keep things close to the vest,” Dan replied. “I don’t know what you’re fully capable of.”

“Many, many things, but that’s not one of them,” Mark added.

“Look, I swear on our friendship, the break was accidental and we snuck out as best we could to avoid any form of physical conflict,” Dax added, leaning against Mark’s chair. “We’ll pay back whatever’s owed for the property we destroyed. There was no malevolence in the act.”

“I would just like to point out that it was an antique,” Henuva added from the back of the crew. “Whoever thought about putting something that was old and meant to be hit out for the public to punch is really the one who should be getting in trouble here.”

“What half-point said,” Mark added.

“How about this: you stop the Valtakuntera, we call it even,” Dax suggested.

“Sounds like a good deal,” Dalia chimed in.

Dax watched out the window as they flew into space and toward Ashley and Josh’s ships. Small transports flew between the space station and the armada that floated in its presence.

“I also need to tell you, I was reaching out because I’ve got a job for you,” Dan added.

“Does it involve taking down the Valtakuntera?” Mark asked.

“Yes. We got an SOS from a defector. He managed to get an expeditionary fleet to retreat with him. He wants to meet and join Alcazar space. We’re worried he may be a plant. We need you to go check it out.”

“Copy that. Send us the coordinates and we’ll be on our way,” Dax ordered.

Before he’d finished speaking, a message beeped on Mark’s screen revealing the coordinates. Mark selected them and started to integrate them into the ship’s mapping computer. The radio fell silent as Dan cut off the line.

“And if it’s a trap?” Dalia asked.

“I’m calling the Death Squad,” Dax said, glancing over at his Battle Bonded. “Have them be support. Wait in the wings. If things go sideways, they drop in and do what they do best.”

“Second best,” PITA added.

Everyone looked at the robotic corgi.

“What? They’re called the DEATH Squad, and they couldn’t kill you guys,” PITA elaborated. “The only reason Tylira or any of them lived as long as they did is because you played defense. How long did she last the second you guys decided to play offensively?”

“Not long enough to be considered the leader of the Death Squad,” Jun chimed in. “By default, that does make this crew the better Death Squad.”

“Yeah, I prefer OGRE,” Dax countered. “Less likely to scare the children.”

“That’s only if your face is hidden,” PITA called out. “Boom, I’m back!”

“The helmet is kind of intimidating too,” Sandrina added.

Dax turned to his suit to get a communicator. The radio flared to life once again. Mark picked it up.

“Hello, my Mijo,” Ashley called out. “How’s my young man doing?”

“Hi, Mom. I’m good, how are things on your ship?” Mark asked.

“You would know if you ever came to visit,” she countered. “I see your little Junkyard flying in and out of the space station, but you never come to Slipper of Recompense. Why do you not come to my command?”

Dax glanced back to see Mark’s face turn bright red. He leaned over his controls while waving everyone to scatter. They huddled closer.

“I’ve been a little busy, Mom. We’re preparing for an all-out war over here,” Mark added.

“And I haven’t?” she asked. “I’ve gotten my nearly destroyed ship back into fighting shape.”

Everyone, including Dax, looked at the beat-up vessel that still drifted listlessly next to Ashley’s main craft.

“Looks like it, Mom,” Mark replied.

“It’s been deliberately repaired like that, Mijo,” Ashley argued. “Lures captains into false senses of security then opens fire when their defenses are down.”

“Please, correct me if I’m wrong,” Jun chimed in. “But I believe that kind of warfare is strictly prohibited by your planet’s document referred to as the Geneva Convention.”

“Don’t you mean Geneva Suggestion?” Ashley asked.

Dalia’s back straightened. She turned to Dax and nodded.

“That’s where he got it,” she said, motioning toward the pilot.

“When the people who write the documents of peace are the ones who’ve faced the ravages of war, I’ll start listening to them,” Ashley added. “Our code of conduct is one presented to us by your honorable Kane. Anything else is merely a proposal.”

“That’s good to know,” Dax plied. “How’s Josh doing?”

“Good. He’s working on a few toys with the scientists on this vessel. Once perfected, we’ll get you working prototypes,” Ashely replied.

“Okay, Mom, we’ve got a job we need to get to. We’ll talk later,” Mark jumped in.

“Okay, love you, Mijo,” Ashley called out, making the sound of blowing kisses.

“Love you too, Mom,” Mark replied before cutting off the radio.

“You shouldn’t hang up on your mother,” Sandrina teased.

“She could go all day,” Mark countered.

Dax snickered, turned around and continued toward the engine room.

“Let me know when we have an ETA,” he called back. “Henuva, stay up here. And Jun, can you send the meeting coordinates to Fanwrith, please.”

“On it,” the android replied.

He quickly made his way down the hallway, opened the engine room door and made his way to one of the control panels. The pale blue light pulsed along with the soft thrumming of the Boronian-backed Dal’no core. He knelt, reached under the console’s edge and felt around. His fingers touched a small protrusion. Quickly grabbing it, he pulled an openable communicator free.

Opening the clip up, he wrapped it around one of the wires that fed into the console itself. The screen flickered green for a few seconds before Fanwrith’s face appeared in front of him. Her strong features quickly contorted at the sight of him.

“I thought you were told never to use this unless it’s an utter emergency,” she immediately snapped.

“Yeah, because you were worried that a member of the Valtakuntera would find it and track it back to your location,” Dax replied. “I have it stored in our engine room with our power core. Even your advanced armor wouldn’t protect you from the radiation of this room. Any Valtukta that steps foot inside would be dead before they found it.”

Her tightened features relaxed at the response. She let out a satisfied sigh. Re-centering herself, she placed her hands behind her and rolled her shoulders back, standing at attention.

“What can the OGRE’s hammer do for you?” she asked.

“What can you tell me about defectors from the Valtakuntera?” Dax asked.

“Look at us, we’re defectors by way of you destroying Tylira,” Fanwrith replied.

“No, I don’t mean defectors by ‘keep what you kill’, I mean people who identify that something’s not right and leave the organization of their own accord,” Dax countered.

“It hasn’t happened since the days before the empress. Why?”

“Because the senate leadership got word of a group that has defected and are looking for asylum to join the fight against tyranny,” Dax explained.

She let out a long exhale, her brow raised while she started to pace in front of the camera. When she turned, the OGRE skull underlaid by a streaked silver handprint on her shoulder was visible.

“There are only a handful of reasons someone would leave the empire unprompted like that. Unfortunately, the only ones I could think of entail setting a trap.”

“That’s what we’re thinking too; that’s why we need you to get into position in case it is a trap, to swing in and cover our butts for evac,” Dax explained.

“Where are we going?” the commander asked, stopping her pacing.

“Jun should be sending you the location momentarily,” Dax said. “As for concealment, you’ve proven yourself adept at handling your own fleets in all our previous clashes. I trust you’ll be able to come up with a strategy on your end that won’t get us killed if things go sideways.”

“We’ve been studying your species’ battle tactics by observing you, and from documents provided by Mark and Jun to help us become more effective at our jobs,” Fanwrith explained. “I’ll ensure that whatever happens, we’ll make sure you’re covered.”

“I greatly appreciate that.”

The Junkyard’s speakers crackled to life as Jun interacted with the vessel.

“I’ve sent the meeting location through encrypted messages. They should receive it within the next few seconds,” Jun explained. “And we have three ETAs to the SOS point.”

“How do we have three?” Dax asked.

Fanwrith leaned closer to her camera while Jun spoke.

“It is a ten day journey if we go straight there,” Jun explained. “But Mark found a route that uses the gravitational pulls of solar systems to slingshot us and get us there in seven days.”

“That sounds reasonable,” Dax explained.

“What about the third ETA?” Fanwrith asked.

“Through my constant scans while traversing the galaxy in leap space, I have discovered a series of black holes that appear to be set up in a way to allow for slingshot travel across the galaxy with greater efficiency than we previously have.”

“Set up?” Dax asked. “What do you mean by that?”

“For black holes to form in the particular pattern they have suggests they did not occur there naturally,” Jun explained. “My hypothesis is that the race capable of creating gravity mines—what you collapsed into two singularities—is more than able to artificially create gravitational superhighways using intentionally placed black holes as slingshot vectors.”

A sense of surprise and being impressed settled throughout Dax at the revelation.

“I can’t say that surprises me after what we’ve seen,” he said. “And how long is that route?”

“Two days,” Jun explained.

“Then that’s the one we take. Send a copy of your scans to the Alcazar. We’re going to need all the advantages we can get, and a way to outmaneuver the empire is right on top of that list,” Dax said.

“Already done,” Jun said.

“Thank you,” Dax replied.

The speakers fell silent. Dax turned his full attention to Fanwrith. A low hum rang out on the war ship.

“That’s fascinating and good to know,” Fanwrith said. She reached off screen and started to swipe. “The location has come in. One moment.”

Fanwrith’s expression tightened for a few seconds. Her eyes went wide while her color seeped from her face. Dax’s heart tried to climb up his throat. He swallowed hard, keeping his composure until he got more news.

“What?” Dax asked.

“The place they want to meet… it’s our home world,” Fanwrith whispered.

33

UPDATE

Dax stood in the engine room, leaning against the console that’d gone dark hours ago. His mind race, twisted and reeled at the revelation Fanwrith provided to him. He fought to reconcile what Henuva had told him and everything he knew about the Valtukta and their home world against the news that it somehow still existed.

A squeal from the engine room door pulled him back to reality. He turned to see Dalia standing in the frame, her arms crossed, and brow furrowed. Her head tilted to one side while she looked at him. Dalia bit her lower lip before taking a step in.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“I have to talk to Henuva,” he said in a near whisper.

“About?”

“Apparently, his home world isn’t as destroyed as the Valtakuntera made him believe,” Dax replied. “That’s where we’re going now.”

“I mean, it’s an empire that’s fueled by propaganda. A home that’s in one place provides hope, an ability to live one’s life as they see fit. You take that away, put them in space, reliant on a migrant fleet, and the one in charge of it all…”

“Yeah, it’s genius, in the darkest way possible. I mean, what if Henuva decides he wants to stay home?”

“That’s his choice,” Dalia replied with a shrug. “But for what it’s worth, I think he’ll wait until our fight is over before making that decision.”

Dax nodded. His gut twisted into knots as he leaned over, unclipped the communicator from its wires and put it back into its hiding place. His mouth dried out, causing him to try and clear his throat. His eyes lingered on his Battle Bonded. A hollow sadness swept through him like a dark wave, splashing into every corner of his being.

“We’ve already taken the home of one crew member. We can’t take another,” he said in almost a whisper.

Dalia’s concerned expression broke into a smile. She stepped toward him.

“It’s not permanent,” she replied. “Just until the threat of the Valtakuntera is over, then my people will return home, safe and sound. And maybe we can settle down. Start a family.”

Her words quickly filled the hole twisting to life in him. He couldn’t help but crack a smile before taking a step toward her.

“After this, I think I’ll have had my fill of adventure for several lifetimes. Maybe I can pick back up where I left off and become a teacher again,” Dax said.

He reached out and took Dalia’s massive hand in his own. He leaned forward, she did the same, and they touched foreheads.

“A family does sound nice, but that’s assuming we’re…you know…compatible,” Dax said before clicking his tongue.

Dalia cracked a smile and let out a soft giggle at the comment. She turned her head to the side and gave him a soft kiss. The kind she always did whenever he’d started to get worked up or overwhelmed. Just like a thousand times before, she anchored him, brought him back to center. His mind cleared, doubt vanished and purpose reignited.

Dax broke their lock. He placed his forehead against hers once more while resting his free hand on her cheek.

“I appreciate and enjoy how you bring me back to focus,” he whispered.

“Why do you think I do it,” she replied. “Now go on, tell Sir Limps-a-lot that he needs to prepare mentally for where we’re about to go. Because if it’s an SOS, that means they’re in trouble. It’s all hands on deck and we’ve all got to fight.”

“I agree,” Dax replied.

He took a deep breath as his heart started to race. He gave Dalia’s hand a gentle squeeze before letting go and making his way to the door.

“Come on, we’ve got to get this shut. We can’t just flood the ship with radiation.”

He stepped into the corridor, Dalia following closely behind. She shut the heavy barrier behind them and locked it. Dax rubbed his eyes while walking to the main deck to see Jun sitting in the seat, PITA on his charger and Ruthnar stretching near the far wall.

“Mark decided to get some rest?” Dax asked.

“No, he’s working on a hacking program based off the information I’ve been able to glean about the Valtakuntera systems,” Jun explained. “That way, when you come across any locked doors, computer consoles, or any of their technology, he doesn’t have to waste time trying to get in. It’ll break through firewalls immediately.”

“That would be a very useful and destructive tool,” Ruthnar chimed in.

“That’s why, if he’s successful, we’re not going to distribute it,” Dax replied, looking at the Dracolich. “I didn’t peg you for the yoga type.”

“Dracolich are very durable and very strong,” Ruthnar explained, mid-stretch. “The one thing we are not is flexible. And it can be quite problematic in battle if we can’t reach an enemy.”

He grunted, changing position and going into another deep stretch.

“And my kind loses their flexibility very quickly. If I stopped, at my age, I’d be as flexible as a steel plate in less than a year.”

“I can relate,” Dax mused. “Before Henuva did his little thing to us, I couldn’t get my hands within five inches of my toes. Since, I can at least touch them without feeling like my tendons are going to snap.”

“It must be nice not having to do these types of exercises anymore, then,” Ruthnar countered.

“Eh, I never did them in the first place, reason why I was so stiff,” Dax said with a shrug. “Henuva in the kitchen?”

“He is,” Ruthnar replied.

Dax glanced back at Dalia. He nodded toward Sandrina’s partially open door.

“I’ll talk to her,” she said.

“You want to bring everyone else up to speed too? Talking with Henuva may take a little longer than just bringing them up to speed.”

Dax motioned at the rest of the crew.

“On it,” Dalia replied.

Dax made his way into the kitchen. Henuva stood behind the counter, his robotic arm detached. A tool in his hand sparked to life as he worked on his prosthetic. Curiosity overtook Dax, watching the Valtukta work. He placed his hands in his pockets while stepping forward.

“I’ve never seen you work on that before,” Dax said.

“I usually do it in the cargo bay,” Henuva replied. “Figured it’d probably be safer in here for when you open that engine room door again.”

He looked up, motioning with the tool as he spoke.

“You know, so I don’t climb out into a cloud of radiation before Jun has a chance to purify the air.”

“Smart,” Dax said.

He approached the counter before looking down at the arm. Every cover panel was wide open. Xero’s spear was compressed and set in place between what would be the radius and ulna.

“You looking to be Wolverine 2.0 with that thing?” Dax asked.

“Not sure who that is, but I figured, if we’re going to be fighting, it’d be best to have my melee weapon hidden inside me so it can’t get grabbed off my hip,” Henuva explained before returning to work. “Like your sword in your suit.”

“That’s not a bad idea.”

Dax watched as Henuva took the weapon out. With a twitch of the fingers, a hole opened in the palm while a spring-loaded cradle launched forward.

“And that should be enough to come right out into my hand,” Henuva said, reloading the spring.

“What if you tied the tension to how many fingers you’re using?” Dax asked. “Like the magnetic fields in our gloves. You do two fingers; it launches out far enough for you to grab it. Three, you can get it to a nearby ally. All five and you take out an enemy a hundred yards away.”

A smirk spread across Henuva’s face. He shook his head while chuckling softly.

“You humans, always having to take something innovative and make it so much more deadly.”

“Oh, I don’t think it’s a human thing. I think it’s just an American thing,” Dax replied.

“I know your race well enough to let that comment lay,” Henuva said.

He returned to work, adding extra tension cables to the mechanisms attached to his fingers.

“How is that going to affect the plasma cannon you had in there?” Dax asked.

Henuva motioned at several tubes that ran into the cybernetic’s bicep.

“I moved the power source up, changed the barreling from a single emitter to five smaller ones. It won’t be able to hit as hard at a distance, but shooting five beams out at once will be excellent for crowd control.”

“That’s some creative weapon building,” Dax mused, leaning against the counter.

“It was Mark’s idea. Of course, he also suggested I put micro missiles up the length of my arm too.”

“And?” Dax asked.

“I told him I’m not looking to be a walking arsenal. The arm has to be functional, and not a sneeze away from blowing myself up, along with everyone within fifty feet of me.”

Henuva slid the spear back into place. He leaned forward once again and started to reassemble his arm.

“That’s a valid argument. A bit of a fun killer, but valid,” Dax huffed.

Dax watched the Valtukta work for several minutes. His mind raced while he tried to formulate the exact way to phrase what he needed to say. Once Henuva had his arm completely put back together, he placed it on the connection point at his shoulder.

“Let’s give it a test, shall we?” Henuva asked.

With a flick of his fingers, the spear shot out. Henuva caught it; momentum forced it to expand to its full length in the blink of an eye. Dax pushed off the counter, watching intently as Henuva spun the weapon a few times.

“Glad to see it works,” the Valtukta said.

He pressed the spear into the floor and pushed, compressing the weapon once more. He quickly returned it to the hole in his hand that shut as if nothing had ever emerged from it.

Henuva turned to Dax. He crossed his arms, ensuring that his robotic hand was underneath, pointed away from his body.

“I know you well enough to know when you’re trying to think of a way to break bad news,” Henuva said bluntly.

“It’s not bad news,” Dax countered with a shrug. “Just potentially uncomfortable or jarring.”

“Look, I know we’ve gotten an SOS from my people. I’m assuming it’s probably a trap and that’s what you’re telling me?”

“No, we don’t know that for sure. We’ve got the Death Squad getting into position to counter any potential traps that may be, though,” Dax explained.

“Okay, well, I don’t have any family left and my fleet’s been destroyed, so it can’t be that we’re about to run into any of my old crew.”

Henuva pursed his lips. He tapped his foot while making a soft clicking sound with his mouth, watching Dax expectantly. With a deep breath, Dax centered himself, stealing his nerve.

“I gave the coordinates to Fanwrith. She took a look at them and confirmed the data personally. Now, I don’t know her as well as I do you, but you don’t get to the rank she has and survive as long as she has without being intelligent,” Dax said.

“That’s true, most the people given a rank based on anything but merit tend to get themselves killed inside of a few years,” Henuva muttered.

“Okay, so you’d trust her conclusions too, I take it?” Dax asked.

His eyes darted around the room, deep in thought for a few seconds before nodding.

“That’s a valid assumption.”

“Good,” Dax replied. “Because the SOS is coming from your home world.”

Henuva’s eyes widened. His jaw fell slack along with his arms to his sides.

“What?” he asked.

34

INBOUND

Dax clipped the last of his armor onto his body before picking up his helmet. He slid it onto his head, locked it in place and retracted it into his suit. He grabbed his shotgun, opened it, checked the barrels were clear and clean before snapping it shut and placing it on his back. Drawing his pistol, he inspected it as well. Once clear, he slid the weapon into its holster.

“Clear,” Dax called out.

“Clear,” Mark added, putting his retracted scythe onto his hip.

“Just need to get my rifle from downstairs and I’ll be clear,” Dalia said, slinging her hammer over her back.

Dax looked at PITA, standing at ready, his ears and tail straight up.

“You’re staying on the ship,” Dax ordered.

“Come on, you can’t take me into the field with you?” PITA asked.

“If the ship gets boarded, Jun and Ruthnar will need your help clearing it out. You’ve done it before. I trust you can do it again.”

“They’re deadly enough to take on anyone that could come in here,” PITA countered.

“Incorrect,” Jun said while moving sliders and messing with controls. “Depending on the weaponry, formation, and armored states of any intruders. I estimate I can take out fifty intruders in this form before it’s destroyed. With Ruthnar, that increases to seventy-five. Add you watching my back, that number doubles, on top of however many you and the Dracolich can remove from the equation.”

“If that’s the case, we won’t have enough room in the ship for all the bodies you’d pile up,” Mark chimed in. “Which is never a bad thing.”

“Fine, but I get the next mission for carnage,” PITA huffed and sat down.

“Deal,” Dax replied, looking at Mark and Dalia. “I’ll meet you two down in the cargo bay.”

“Copy that,” Dalia said.

She led Mark down the hallway before the stairwell door creaked. Dax walked to Sandrina’s room. He poked his head in. Her armor was gone, along with her weapons. He looked behind him before letting out a grunt.

“Silent as a cat,” he muttered.

Making his way back to the other crew quarters, he double-checked everyone’s rooms. They were all empty. Reaching Henuva’s door, he found it was shut and locked. Dax leaned over and gave it a quick knock.

“Henuva, you good?” Dax asked.

“Just finishing up,” the Valtukta replied.

“Mind if I come in?”

“You don’t need to. I’ll be out in a second,” Henuva replied.

Dax took a step back. His eyes locked on the door handle while his mind raced about what Henuva had to have been feeling or going through. He tried to warp his perspective on how he’d feel if he’d heard his world was destroyed only to find out it was still intact.

“You don’t have to be on the ground team on this one,” Dax called out.

“What?” Henuva asked, his voice muffled from the door.

“I get that you might need a moment to process. If you need that, I’m okay with you maintaining security on the ship with Jun and PITA.”

The door handle turned; its hinges screeched as Henuva forced it open. He stepped out, slinging his rifle over his shoulder.

“Are you kidding me?” he asked, his tone pointed. “I’ve heard that my world was destroyed for hundreds of years. Now I find out not only is it there, but there’s a battle taking place on it. I am not going to leave that planet, or anyone left on it, to the whims of the Empress. I will be the first on this squad to have boots on the ground.”

“It’s your world. I won’t deprive you of that honor, but I need to know you’re in the fight,” Dax said. “That you’re in the right head space. I can’t have you distracted out there.”

Henuva’s countenance darkened. He tilted his head to one side, sending a rippling crack down his spine and chills up Dax’s.

“I am in the right headspace,” Henuva said, his tone dark. “Nothing’s going to stop me from getting to those Valtukta that need our help. I will take a page out of your book and burn the skies to ensure their safety if I have to.”

“Okay, but can you remember one thing for me?” Dax asked, putting up a finger.

“What?” Henuva added.

“Often what makes propaganda and fiction believable is that there is a grain of truth at its core. I’m not saying the lies don’t stretch for lightyears over that truth, but it’s typically built on something people can believe.”

“And?” Henuva cut in.

“And, your world may not be in the condition you think it is. It could be physically intact but scorched. Or all traces of civilization gone and forest regrown. Just be prepared for the concept of some form of destruction.”

“I have,” Henuva countered.

He pushed past Dax, summoning his helmet as he marched.

“Are you ready to face down what’ll be out there?” he asked.

“After two different kinds of zombies, I think I am,” Dax replied.

He followed Henuva to the main deck where Jun rested her hand on the leap drive control.

“Long range scanners indicate several dozen cruisers locked in combat over a planet,” Jun announced. “There’s too much interference to get the location of our contact or even see the world, but gravitational disturbances indicate something is there.”

“That’s both good and bad. How can we tell who’s going to be on our team?” Dax asked.

“Dan sent over a communication frequency. I’ve isolated it, updated the coding into your suits and have it so your HUD will automatically highlight anyone using that frequency as green. That way, you can tell in real time who is your friend and who wants to shoot you in the face.”

“That’s a comforting thought,” Dax muttered. “What’s our ETA to normal space?”

“Three,” Jun started. “Two…”

Dax looked at Henuva.

“You ready for this?” he asked.

Henuva nodded.

“One,” Jun continued.

Jun pulled back on the controls. The blue swirl vanished, causing Dax’s stomach to drop. His mind reeled, trying to make sense of what his eyes saw. A soft cackle of madness bubbled up from Henuva while the android brought their ship to a stop.

“You were right,” Henuva said.

He ran his hands through his white hair. Dax glanced over to see the flash of madness on his face replaced quickly by a steely resolve. With a twitch of his neck, his helmet closed around his head.

“I’ll catch you in the cargo bay. This one’s going to have to be a drop,” he added.

The Valtukta turned and marched away. Dax turned back to the viewport. A planet drifted in front of them. Half was still intact, the rest was ripped apart, floating as dark chunks behind the coreless husk. Shadows from the system’s star accented the dead world while flashes of plasma fired along the terminator line between day and night.

“What could’ve done this?” Jun asked in a disbelieving whisper.

“Leviathan,” Dax replied.

“How many?”

“It doesn’t really matter anymore,” Dax countered, pointing at the battle line. “Figure out which one of these are enemies.”

“Do you want me to shoot them down?”

“No. The gravitational pull of that planet is going to be all over the place. We don’t know how the ships will fall. We’re going to have to take over at least one of them.”

Jun started to activate a few sliders on her control screens.

“Fortunately, like their password, everything’s the same. I know how much power I need to punch a hole straight into the bridge. From there, I can drop you and let you guys do what you do while being an overall irritant to the rest,” Jun suggested.

“That sounds like a plan,” Dax replied. “Before you approach, scan the gravitational fields. Last thing you want to do is get close, then be yanked into a hull because you weren’t compensating for several G’s of force.”

“Already on it,” Jun replied. “Might I suggest not using slug throwers? Plasma tends to be less affected by sudden changes in pulls.”

“That could explain the Valtakuntera dependency on the stuff.”

“I need to warn you, I’m picking up very little atmosphere. On the sun side, your armor will start to cook from the heat trapped by the core. Try and stay on the dark side, or in that middle zone if you’re planning on crashing a ship.”

“Copy that,” Dax said.

With a twitch of his neck, his helmet snapped around his head.

“I’ll seal off the cargo bay. Ten seconds before you open the door, vent the air.”

“Already on the list, boss,” Jun replied.

Dax turned and walked toward the ladder. He passed it, reaching the shut engine room door. He knocked on the steel.

“You good in there?” Dax asked.

“Affirmative,” Ruthnar’s muffled voice replied. “Coordinating with Death Squad as we speak on a scrambled frequency. No one’s going to be picking me up.”

“Glad to hear. Keep up the good work,” Dax said.

He turned and made his way back toward the ladder. Engines hummed as they started to move toward the battlefield. Once on the ladder, he grabbed the door, pulled it shut and locked it tight before descending.

Once he reached the floor, Dax looked around to see everyone staring at Henuva. He stood silently, weapon at low ready, five feet away from the shut ramp. His HUD indicated Henuva’s heart rate wasn’t elevated, and his vitals were normal.

“Everything good?” Mark asked.

“No,” Dax replied.

He stepped off and looked at Sandrina’s submachine guns.

“Use Henuva’s old plasma rifle. No slug throwers,” Dax ordered before looking at Dalia. “The sound on that cannon’s not going to work. Only use the plasma, and the second you get a chance, grab a Valtakuntera rifle.”

He turned to look at Mark, who had his staff in one hand and retracted scythe in the other.

“You’re good,” Dax said.

“What’s going on?” Jun asked.

She put the submachine guns down and retrieved the heavily used plasma rifle.

“The propaganda about the Valtukta home world’s destruction wasn’t exaggerated,” Dax explained. “It looks like it was torn in half and one of those leviathans ate the core from it.”

Silence fell across the team. Mark let out a soft grunt as if he were about to say something then stopped himself. Dax started to back toward Henuva while he continued to speak, loud enough for the Valtukta to hear.

“There’s a Valtakuntera bombardment taking place. Our job is to bring it to an end so that we can meet our contact on the surface. Stay out of the sun side of the planet, it’ll give your suits heat damage.”

He put himself into position behind Henuva and drew his pistol.

“Also, gravity on target is inconsistent to say the least. Jun is going to try and send us as much data as possible, so we don’t get caught off guard,” Dax continued. “Stay braced. One step might be a half G, the next might be ten. Keep your eyes peeled for environmental factors that could warn of a crunch or a fling into space.”

Sandrina summoned her helmet and marched into position. She stepped past Dax and stood next to Henuva. Mark moved on to the Valtukta’s left side.

“We’ve got your six,” Mark said. “Do what you need to do.”

Henuva nodded.

“Making approach, prepare for drop,” Jun called out.

Dalia summoned her helmet while approaching Dax.

“I take it the drop implies one of the bombarding ships?” she asked.

“Yes, we can’t just shoot it down. It could kill our contact, and we don’t know how the unstable gravity will react. Our mission is to take control of the bridge and execute an unscheduled, semi-controlled landing of at least two enemy cruisers away from their target area.”

The cargo bay started to hiss as all the oxygen was pulled out of it. A warning of zero atmosphere flashed across Dax’s HUD. A soft crackle filled his helmet as their radios linked up. Mark quickly double-checked the coding of his staff.

“You know, if you’re planning on crashing a ship into another ship, you don’t have to rebrand it. You can just tell us. We’re used to it by now,” Mark said.

35

INSURGENT

“I just kicked the hornet’s nest,” Jun announced. “I didn’t punch all the way through and completely disable the ship. Getting through the last deck is up to you.”

The ramp whined to life while the back started to open.

“Let me know when the last of you are clear, and I’ll take care of the swarm,” the android added.

Sunlight poured into the cargo bay. Dax’s HUD darkened while highlighting thousands of ships that dropped into view. A little less than half were highlighted green.

Henuva took off in an all-out sprint toward the opening before leaping out.

“I guess that’s our cue,” Mark said, joining him.

Sandrina quickly rushed after them both as Dax and Dalia marched to the back of the ship and looked down. A cruiser sat below them, continuing to open fire on the planet’s surface, A glowing hole punched through its hull pulled dozens of Valtukta into the void.

“Why aren’t you jumping?” Dalia asked.

Henuva used his weapon to deflect a few inbound aliens. He’d knock them to keep himself centered on the hole. Mark used his magnetic glove to pull Sandrina to him, grabbed her with his free arm and continued to keep them centered as well.

“I’d love to, but I made you a promise I wouldn’t do a reckless jump like this again,” Dax replied.

“Are you kidding me?” Dalia screeched. “Now’s the time you’re going to decide to be pedantic?”

“I’m a professor; my whole life is pedantic,” Dax countered.

“This isn’t a joy ride. This is mission critical,” Dalia argued.

She motioned toward the inbound swarm rushing toward them. Dax’s HUD highlighted them as too far away for the ship’s mines to be effective.

“What can I say.” He shrugged. “A promise is a promise.”

They screamed through the void, closing in while taking attack formation.

“By the World Mother, you can be insufferable,” Dalai snarled.

She shook her head, grabbed Dax by the shoulder and tossed him out of the back of the ship. Dax’s stomach lurched into his throat from being tossed around like a kindergartener fighting a full-grown man. He turned, falling headfirst toward the Valtakuntera ship.

Dalia launched herself after him, diving too while the cargo bay door shut. With a flick of his eyes, he connected to Jun’s direct line.

“We’re out, door’s shut, you’re in range,” he said.

The Junkyard’s engines roared to life. It surged forward, leaving a mine in its place. The swarm of Valtakuntera ships rushed toward it, attracting the explosive into their lead vessel and detonating it.

Dax turned to face the cruiser as pieces of metal spun uncontrollably in every direction. Pointing his left hand at Dalia, he curled his fingers outward. The magnetic pull slowed his descent while accelerating her.

Dalia zipped past Dax, grabbing his suit on her way. His stomach dropped. A groan left his lips while they accelerated to the ship below.

“You keep yanking me around like this and I’m going to throw up,” Dax grunted.

They zipped past a few corpses, continuing to accelerate toward Mark and Sandrina.

“Not in the suit. I’m not cleaning that out this cycle,” Mark countered.

Bodies stopped flying toward them as airlocks on every deck slammed shut. Once passing the outer hull of the ship, an unnatural surrealness gripped Dax. He watched the layers of the vessel fly past him at breakneck speeds.

“Brace,” Henuva ordered.

He extended his cybernetic hand as they approached the last layer of metal separating them from the bridge. Dax and Dalia quickly rotated, putting their feet to the bridge below them, artificial gravity starting to pull on them. Mark and Sandrina did the same.

Henuva’s spear erupted from his palm. It glowed bright purple while spinning toward the steel below them. On impact, a blinding flash of light forced Dax to look away. A gust of wind slowed their descent, accompanied by fractured metal pieces of ceiling.

Artificial gravity, mixed with the pull of the planet, beat out the repulse of the atmosphere. Henuva flipped at the last second and landed next to his spear which stuck in the bridge floor.

Mark slowed himself with his magnetic boots before letting Sandrina go as they passed the fractured hull. She landed in a crouch first while Mark hit the ground with magnetic purpose.

Dax triggered the repulsing magnetic field of his boots. It slowed his descent with Dalia at his side. He spun their bodies so their backs were to the rest of the group.

Once they entered the bridge as well, he deactivated the magnetism. They dropped, hitting the floor with a clang he hardly felt through the armor. He raised his pistol while looking around.

Every member of the bridge wore sealed suits and were heavily armed with plasma rifles. Attached to their feet were crude attempts at remaking OGRE magnetic boots. They clearly worked.

“Members of the Valtakuntera,” Henuva called out over the universal radio channel. “Out of respect for the men and women at my back, I will give you one chance to surrender and lay down your weapons.”

Dax glanced back to see him place his hand on the base of his spear. He pushed on it, collapsing it before it vanished into his arm. He shouldered his rifle and pointed it at the closest Valtakuntera member.

“If you don’t, I will ensure you’re the first Valtukta to be buried on our home world in almost a thousand years,” Henuva continued. “You have two choices: surrender to the OGREs or fall. Which do you choose?”

Silence filled the air. Dax’s finger hovered over the trigger; his eyes darted in every direction waiting for someone to make a move. For what was likely seconds, but felt like hours, nobody did. Dax kept his pistol trained on the head of a soldier closest to him.

His heart raced, forcing him to focus on slow, even breaths to keep everything even-keeled. In a blur, Dalia lifted her hammer. A flash of purple splashed against it, with Henuva’s head just on the other side.

“Death it is, then,” Henuva growled.

Dalia threw her hammer at the Valtukta that shot at them. It ripped across the rifle before slamming into the soldier. Compressed, superheated gas spewed from the weapon while the head of Dalia’s hammer unleashed the energy it’d absorbed into their enemy’s helmet.

The soldier flew into a wall before crumpling to the ground. His gun spun, violently spewing the contents of his magazine in every direction. Valtakuntera members rushed away from the weapon. Henuva charged forward. Even with the artificial gravity, every step carried him almost ten feet.

Flashes of light soared from his weapon. Each sand-sized fragment punched a hole in enemy armor as if it weren’t there, peppering the walls with every round sent.

“Cover him,” Dax shouted.

He pointed his pistol at a Valtukta taking aim at Henuva. Dax fired, and his round punched through the side of the helmet, dropping the soldier. Dalia rushed toward her hammer with Sandrina providing cover fire while Mark unleashed beams of plasma, focused on weapons.

“Don’t take out the guns, take them out,” Henuva snarled.

Dax watched the one-armed scientist close the distance with a Valtukta, grab the rifle barrel, bend it, then shoot the soldier in the chest. Henuva moved like a man possessed. He spun and threw the destroyed gun at another soldier, knocking them off balance before opening fire on them.

“I don’t know how long we’re going to be in this fight,” Mark countered. “It takes less power to disable the weapons than punch through the gear. You should know that.”

A hiss caught Dax’s attention. To his right, a door opened. A contingent of reinforcements rushed into the room.

“Mine,” Dax shouted.

He dashed at them. They opened fire. Most of their shots were absorbed into the Boronian-repaired portions of his armor while the rest splashed off. Dax lowered his shoulder, slamming into the Valtukta on point. Once in the center of them, he drew his Dal’no blade.

Dax didn’t fight his body. It moved on its own from years of practice and repetition, all of the countless hours of drilling Kane forced them to do in down time culminating in this exact moment.

Flashes of light flew out of his pistol. Each round punched through Valtukta armor. Dax danced and dodged around plasma gun shots and attempted bludgeoning. His knife sliced through the lack of air at neck height.

Without a need to hit flesh, just puncture suits, its near atomic razor’s edge provided what would be lethal slashes behind Dax’s back. His HUD tried to keep up with his movements. Time dragged to a crawl while he jumped, spun, fired, kicked and cut through the group.

Dax flipped his knife around as he landed, a knee on either side of a man he’d body checked on the ground. With a powerful thrust, he drove the tip of his knife through a weak point in the shoulder, making the man cry out.

“Tell us what I want to know, and I put you in atmosphere before taking this knife out,” Dax said in the Valtukta language.

The sounds of Henuva raging behind him sounded over his radio while flashes of plasma fire danced across the wall.

“Who’s in charge of this assault?” Dax asked.

“I’m not soft like the defecting cowards,” the Valtukta growled.

“Cool line. Still didn’t answer my question. Who’s in charge?”

The Valtukta spat before jolting back, hitting his helmet against the ground. Dax chuckled.

“Hard to spit in my face if we’re both wearing helmets. Do you know who I am?”

“You’re the demon OGRE, the wanted Terran, Mark,” the Valtukta hissed.

Dax sighed. He sat down on the Valtukta’s chest before giving the handle of his knife a soft flick, making his target grunt in pain.

“You know, a man tries really hard to build up a reputation, garner an air of notoriety,” he motioned toward the bodies that surrounded them, “only to be mistaken for the kid?”

Dax turned toward Mark. He grabbed the Valtukta’s helmet, lifting it for the soldier to see. The young man cut another gun in half while Henuva finished off the fighter.

“That’s Mark; he’s the tech guy. Don’t get me wrong, he’s gotten into your systems enough times, it’s hard not to make a back door joke,” Dax said.

He let the helmet go. It clattered against the ground. Dax turned his attention back to the Valtukta.

“I’m Dax, the one who facilitated the breakout of Henuva’s ship. The spearhead of destroying his fleet, the thorn in Tylira’s side, until my plan got her killed. The one coming after your empress.”

“I thought Tylira killed the old guy,” the Valtukta countered.

“You really know how to make a guy feel deflated,” Dax huffed.

The fighting died down as the last Valtukta fell to Henuva’s rage.

“I guess I’ll lean into it. In these situations, I’m usually the scary one by default of having the big lady with the hammer ready to She-Hulk smash everything. In this situation, I’d like you to turn your attention to the man who may or may not have devolved into rabid dog status.”

Dax grabbed the soldier’s helmet once again and pointed his face toward Henuva, who stomped on a deceased person’s breastplate.

“You can talk to me or you can face him. Who’s in charge?”

“You won’t be able to kill her.” The Valtukta chuckled. “She’s not here. She’s taken full remote control of every fleet. There’s no command structure to hack your way into anymore.”

“I’m assuming you’re talking about the empress?” Dax asked.

“Long may she reign,” the Valtukta barked.

He grabbed Dax’s knife and yanked it out of his shoulder. Air rushed out, freezing the Valtukta where he lay. Dax peeled his knife out of his opponent’s hand and sheathed it. A plasma bolt flew past his head.

Dax looked up. Down the corridor, another contingent of soldiers rushed at them. In a flash he was on his feet. He punched the controls causing the doors to slide shut.

“We’ve got incoming,” he shouted. “Mark, weld it!”

36

ANOTHER HAPPY LANDING

A green beam emanated from the crystal on top of Mark’s staff. It slowly ran down the closed door’s seam, sending sparks in every direction. Metal glowed a soft orange for a few seconds before cooling into a liquid smooth weld, holding the pieces of metal together.

Dax turned his attention to the rest of his crew. Henuva walked around the large, circular room, his attention on the floor. Dalia stood slightly off center, her gun pointed at the massive hole in the ceiling while Sandrina checked the fallen to ensure they were actually dead.

“Looking for the controls?” Dax asked.

Henuva dropped to one knee. He put his robotic hand on a floor panel. After a second, he dug his fingers into the metal and pulled it free. When he reached inside the hole in the floor, a flash of light danced up his arm.

Swaths of the ground started to retract. Bodies moved, along with Dax. He sidestepped a retracting piece before navigations, weapons and control centers emerged from the floor. A command chair rose out of the floor in front of Henuva. He immediately stepped in front of it and sat in the brutalist metal seat.

“Dax, the station next to you is emergency ship controls. Find the sealing protocols and close off this bridge,” Henuva ordered. “Dalia, swap with Mark. If they get through his door, your gun can take them all out at once. Sandrina, I need you to man the radio and find out where our target on the surface is. And Mark, get in the system and hack everything you can.”

Silence fell among the crew. Dax looked at each of the members; they all watched him for their orders. He nodded, motioning toward the stations Henuva indicated while speaking.

“You heard the man. Go!”

Dax holstered his pistol and vaulted the control center next to him. Dalia quickly swapped locations with Mark and pointed her gun at the door. Dax’s fingers glided across the barely functioning screens. His reading of Valtukta was a little rusty. It took a few moments for him to catch up. Once the cobwebs were cleared out, his mind raced while eyes darted around the controls.

“Where are you?” he whispered.

He entered several dozen menus and controls only to find fire suppression, emergency life support, internal defense activations. He paused for a second before locking that one in an off position.

“There can’t be that many emergency systems,” he muttered.

With a swipe, he went to the final screen where the emergency hull seal sat by itself.

“Why wouldn’t this be on the first page,” he muttered.

He pressed on it. A full damage report of the entire ship appeared on the fractured screen. Dax pressed on the section for the hole overhead. The crack prevented it from being selected.

“Well, crap,” he muttered.

“Everything good?” Dalia asked.

“The screen’s damaged. I can’t select to seal this hole,” Dax said, pointing up.

“How big of a problem is that?” she asked.

Dax shrugged. He looked around the rest of the screen, finding a rotation option.

“I mean, I had a tablet that I sneezed in the vicinity of once and cracked the screen,” Dax replied. “For the next two years, I figured out ways to work around it.”

He pressed the button. The screen inverted, putting the highlighted damage in an operational part of the console.

“How hard can you sneeze?” Sandrina asked.

“It’s not a feat of strength thing,” Mark cut in. “It’s a low quality of production thing. I know what kind of tablet you’re talking about. You blink wrong in their direction, and they break. And yet everyone keeps buying them.”

“Enough yapping. Where are we?” Henuva asked.

Dax pressed the highlighted, damaged area. Another dropdown appeared with options on how to seal it. All but one was bright red and un-selectable. He pressed the only one available to him. The room trembled. Sparks flew from the edges of the hole as the room started to rotate, putting their entrance to a different internal section of the ship.

“That’s kind of cool,” Dax muttered.

Artificial gravity held them in place. Dax cycled back to the internal ship defenses and sealed off the bridge while activating the defenses just outside of the un-welded door that now lined up with the corridor full of Valtukta.

“We’re clear and cut off from the rest of the ship being able to reach us,” Dax announced.

“Henuva, we’ve got an incoming transmission. It’s not from the planet’s surface,” Sandrina called out.

“Good. Hopefully, a surrender,” Henuva replied. “Put them through.”

The entire wall before them flickered to life. A holographic display of a Valtakuntera helmet with decorative inlay and a visor so dark no one could see through it stood before them. Dax tilted his head to the side, looking at the odd, yet tactically sound armor.

“Henuva,” a feminine voice came over the communication array. “I heard the rumors. I thought it was just hearsay. I honestly thought you were dead. I must say, I’m disappointed in you, throwing your lot in with these Terrans.”

“Well, I’m happy to disappoint you, Empress,” Henuva replied.

Dax’s gut twisted; his chest tightened while a surge of adrenaline coursed through his veins at that single word. He stepped out from behind his assigned station and moved forward. His internal computer tried desperately to penetrate the veil hiding her face. He made his way to Henuva’s side, hand coming to a rest on his pistol.

“You, you’ve been quite the thorn in my side,” she said, her voice as smooth as silk. “No matter, the damages you’ve wrought are a drop in a bucket compared to the breadth of my mighty empire.”

“You know, the last head of an empire I’m aware of got thrown down a reactor shaft by his own right hand,” Dax taunted. “Your choices are turning your own people against you. If you don’t stop, you may get the shaft too.”

“Like Skywalker’s right arm,” Mark mumbled.

“Ah, the hacker. You’ve done almost as much damage as the other has. I must admit I’m impressed.”

“Not trying to get your favor,” Mark countered.

The empress let out a soft giggle. She looked down before back at them.

“I believe we may have gotten off on the wrong foot. I’m not trying to enslave the galaxy, just bring it into a singular, unified fold.”

“With our plans and directives?” Henuva scoffed. “How can you not see that you’re evil?”

A private, encrypted message flickered against Dax’s HUD. He activated it.

“I’m completely in the system,” Mark whispered. “I’ve tried to backtrack her signal, but it’s beyond even me. Do you want me to lock her out?”

“Let’s see what info we can get from her first,” Dax replied.

Sandrina quickly moved to Dalia’s side, set to hold the doors if they opened.

“Sometimes in war collateral damage is required to become strong enough to fight off the true evil.”

“Dal’no, Bastet, Dracolich, Narlooga, Strudia; those are just some of the races we’ve pushed to the edge of extinction. How many more will never be known because of your expansion?” Henuva asked.

Dax noticed him inch to the edge of his seat.

“And I ensure that I understand every loss I’ve been responsible for,” the empress countered.

“Yeah, I’m sure that makes them feel a whole lot better,” Mark sneered, nodding at the women.

“Your minds are too small to comprehend what I’m trying to do,” the empress explained. “I will offer you the same courtesy you’ve offered so many of my people. Surrender, join our cause, watch and be responsible for saving the galaxy, or die. The choice is yours.”

“Your orders killed a good friend of mine,” Henuva countered. “A father and a brother to this crew that’s opened my eyes to what it means to be on the right side. The only thing you will watch is these OGREs, these Junkyard Bandits doing what they do best: destroying your fleets and taking your prize for themselves.”

He glanced at Mark. The young man tapped the holographic interface on his staff. The screen instantly switched to a full-field of view of space around them. Cruisers Dax’s helmet didn’t highlight green were positioning themselves around their boarded ship. Dax took a deep breath. The solo channel vanished, reconnecting the entire team.

“She didn’t seem that scary,” Dalia mused. “I think I could take her.”

“Of that I have no doubt,” Henuva said.

He stepped down and motioned toward the chair.

“They are getting into assault position, ready to blow us out of the sky,” Henuva announced. “Dax, would you like the honors of getting us out of this mess?”

“You sure you don’t want to?” Dax asked.

“I’m cognizant enough to realize I’m in no mental state to try and get us out of this situation alive.”

Dax nodded, stepped up to the chair and sat down.

“And you think he is?” Sandrina asked.

“Have I crashed a ship that’s killed us yet?” Dax asked.

“You’ve never crashed a ship while actually in one before,” Mark replied. “And I would like to point out, I am, objectively, the best pilot in this room.”

Dax looked around; holographic interfaces flickered to life around his hands with simple directional controls.

“Close your fists around those augmented reality displays,” Henuva said. “It’ll lock into the ship’s systems.”

Dax clenched his hands. The chair vibrated with haptic feedback.

“Mark, you’re in the weapons systems. Make sure the ships surrounding us don’t blow us out of the sky before I can get my work done,” Dax ordered.

Henuva rushed to one of the stations. He pressed several buttons. A chair emerged from the floor. He sat on it. Straps emerged from the seat, clamping across his body before holding him in place.

“I’d get to a workstation and press the button that looks like a circled triangle with a line directly across,” the Valtukta ordered.

Immediately, the ships around them opened fire. Violent tremors surged through the cruiser. Mark, Sandrina and Dalia all got to a station and activated a chair, strapping themselves in.

“Impact detected,” an automated voice announced.

Restraints erupted out of Dax’s seat, holding him in place.

“Let’s kick some tires and light some fires!” Mark shouted.

With a flick of his wrist, every still functional gun that wasn’t pointing down opened fire in unison. Structural integrity stressor alerts flashed across the screen, warning not to continue the barrage.

“Think we should listen to the computer?” Sandrina asked.

“This thing’s going down anyway. May as well make it like the Fourth of July,” Mark shouted.

He ramped up the firing. Dax threw his left hand forward. The ship surged toward the cruiser in front of them.

“What I wouldn’t give to be playing ‘Fortunate Son’ right now,” Dax called out.

The Junkyard zipped past in front of them. She did a strafing run on a Valtukta ship before spinning through the kicked-up debris. Valtakuntera fighters tried to follow. They hit the debris and spun out of control before crashing.

“I believe I can assist with that,” PITA called out over the open channel.

The opening guitar riff played over every speaker throughout the Valtukta ship. Several fighters swerved off course as if surprised by a loud noise, and crashed.

Dax’s body started to tingle as adrenaline dumped into his veins. He pushed against his restraints, accelerating even faster at the vessel in front of them. Mark let out a series of excited whoops while continuing to fire, blasting chunks out of the enemies surrounding them.

“I love a target-rich environment!” Mark screamed. “Leroy this Jenkins!”

An animalistic surge of energy overtook Dax. His vision tunneled, locking his attention on the weakest point of the vessel in front of them. It closed in, five hundred yards, the music continued to blare, two hundred yards, Jun dropped mines, breaking up the formation behind her. One hundred yards, every fighter turned their attention to the kamikaze cruiser.

“Brace!” Dalia shouted.

A shower of sparks accompanied by a violent jerk up, then yank to one side filled the bridge. The display flickered. Dax quickly turned his head, getting a look at the situation around them.

Every ship that had opened fire on them was pulling away. Smoke billowed into what little atmosphere the fractured planet had left, all but one being pulled toward the surface.

More violent jolting shook the ship. Dax’s armor locked up to protect him while the AR controls, display, and lights went out. Emergency red lights turned on casting eerie shadows across the floor.

“I thought you said you were going to be careful,” Dalia called out.

“We’re wearing our seatbelts, aren’t we?” Dax asked.

“I don’t think that’s what she meant,” Sandrina added.

“For your safety and ours, please, keep your arms and legs inside the roller coaster at all times, and in case of an emergency, stick your head between your legs and kiss your bum goodbye,” Mark called out.

Dax’s stomach lurched into his throat. His eyes darted toward Henuva. He sat unmoving, weapon held tightly against his chest, stoic while sparks rained down around them.

“Jun, you want to let us know our altitude?” Dax asked.

“Three thousand meters and dropping,” she called out. “ETA to impact, ten seconds.”

“You heard the lady. Brace!” Dax ordered.

Every muscle in his body tightened inside his unmoving armor. He clenched his jaw, closed his eyes and started to count. Once he hit one, another violent surge sliced through the ship, throwing Dax inside of his armor. A sharp pain shot across his cheek as his face slammed into the side of his helmet. The cruiser started to tumble, sending them in quick, violent circles.

“Is this what my clothes feel like when I wash them?” Mark shouted,his voice strained.

“Yep,” Dax called back.

After a few seconds, the violent spinning gradually came to a stop. Dax looked around. A faint pull of gravity indicated they hung upside-down.

“Crew, sound off,” he called out.

“Intact,” Henuva said.

“Unharmed, somehow,” Dalia added.

“Motion sick but good,” Sandrina groaned.

Dax looked over at Mark, his staff projecting their holographic interface. A series of heavy thuds reverberated through the hull, causing the bridge to start to rotate once again.

The weak gravity pull was hardly noticeable at first. Within seconds, they’d picked up speed. Every organ in Dax’s body felt like it swirled as they whipped right side up before settling off-kilter in the hole they’d entered. Mark laughed and looked around at the crew.

“Another happy landing,” he mused.

37

EMERGE

“Crap,” Mark grunted.

“What?” Dax asked.

“I’ve been kicked out of the system.”

“That doesn’t surprise me, when there’s no system left to be in,” Dalia jested.

Mark turned his head as much as he could.

“I don’t think you get it. The system controlled the seat belts. There’s nothing left to retract them,” Mark explained. “My scythe is stuck to my hip and I don’t have the leverage to cut through mine.”

Dax looked at Sandrina; she tried to shift in her seat before letting out a frustrated grunt.

“So are my axes,” she huffed.

Dax reached toward the knife that dangled just below his belt and drew it.

“I don’t think Dalia’s hammer’s going to be able to cut through any time soon either,” Mark added.

“No, but I could break the chair out from behind you,” Dalia chimed in.

“No thank you. I’d rather not be a human version of one of those playdough push through games,” Mark added.

Dax hooked the edge of his knife under the restraints. With a pull, he sliced his left side free. Turning toward his right, he cut himself completely out before noticing Henuva’s chair was empty.

“It’s okay,” Henuva said.

His voice was less than two feet from behind Dax. He jumped, taking a sharp breath before fully turning to see the freed Valtukta.

“Dax and I are out. We can get you,” Henuva added.

Dax climbed out of his seat. In Henuva’s palm, he noticed the tip of his spear sticking out of its housing.

“That was a good call,” Dax said, motioning toward the weapon.

“Thank you. Are you good?” Henuva asked.

“In fighting shape. You?”

“Couldn’t be better.”

Henuva turned toward Sandrina and marched at her. Dax rushed to Dalia’s side and went to work on her restraints. Once freed, Sandrina rushed to the hole they entered from and looked up, her weapon, pointing toward it as well.

“How are you?” Dax asked.

“A little jarred around but unharmed,” Dalia replied. “You?”

Dax’s attention went to the throbbing in his cheek. He pulled, cutting his Battle Bonded free while suppressing the non-concerning pain.

“Fit as a fiddle and ready to crash,” Dax replied.

He offered Dalia a hand. She grabbed it and he pulled to stand her up, accidentally yanking her out of her chair. Dalia lifted out of her seat, floated until her and Dax’s arms were fully outstretched before slowly descending and landing on her feet.

“I think I figured out how we survived that,” she jested.

“It’ll make it easier to get out of that hole,” Sandrina added.

“Can we stop strategizing for a second and come cut me out, please?” Mark asked.

Dax released Dalia. He marched over to Mark, knife in hand, and cut him free.

“Jun, how are we looking up there?” Sandrina called out.

Static returned over the radio.

“Jun, can you hear me?” Sandrina tried again.

“Did she get shot down?” Mark asked.

“No,” the Bastet replied. “I can see her. She’s holding a recon pattern.”

“That’s good. It means the fighters either went down or ran off,” Henuva said, joining her.

“Wreckage must be blocking our communication. We need to get out,” Dax said.

“I think we need to get out for more than just that reason,” Mark taunted.

“True. We’re doing this in two phases. Mark, I’m throwing you up first, followed by Henuva. Your eye can pick up things faster than our helmets can and Henuva needs to be up front because he is going to be the first one of this crew to step foot on this planet’s soil,” Dax ordered.

He walked toward Sandrina and Henuva with Dalia and Mark close behind.

“Dalia, you’re third. If they run into something big, you can hit it the hardest. Sandrina, I can probably get you close to the top.”

“I’m assuming you’ll just mag boot your way out?” Dalia asked.

“That is how I tend to do things,” Dax replied.

He turned toward Mark. The young man looked up, crouched to jump.

“Up, up and away!” he called out.

Mark leapt, using the same magnetic repulse in his boots, and launched himself at the hole. He threaded the needle before landing on an upper deck.

“Right, he can do that too,” Dax said to himself before turning toward Henuva. “You ready?”

Henuva nodded. Dax interlaced his fingers and leaned over. Nodding toward them, Henuva stepped forward, placed a boot in his hand and started to rock back and forth. They didn’t need to say a word to each other.

On the third rock, Dax threw his arms up as hard as he could. Henuva surged through the air, flying toward the hole in low gravity. He drifted past Mark before grabbing on to the deck above.

“Dalia, you’re next,” Dax offered.

She stepped in front of him, putting her thigh-sized foot in his hand. With all his might, he threw her, followed by giving her a push with his magnetic gauntlet. She barely made it to the edge of the hole. Catching the side, she pulled herself out.

“You good?” Dax asked.

“I’m alive,” she replied.

“Copy that,” Dax said before looking at the smallest member of the crew. “You ready?”

“Please don’t throw me into space,” she huffed.

“I promise I won’t,” Dax replied.

He locked his fingers and leaned forward again. She stepped into his hands, and with another countdown, he launched her upward. She drifted past Dalia, then Mark without slowing down much. Dax grimaced at her lack of deceleration before Henuva grabbed her and yanked her onto his deck.

“Sorry,” Dax called up. “I wasn’t anticipating that low of a gravitational pull.”

“No worries, I’m good,” Sandrina called down.

Dax took one more look at the relatively narrow gap. He lined himself up before leaping as hard as he could. Activating his boot magnets to repulse, he shot through the air at a manageably quick speed.

“Dalia, grab me,” Dax called out.

Her arm poked over the edge. Dax rushed through the hole they’d made. Grabbing Dalia’s arm, he was whipped to the side, while the Dal’no was pulled off her feet. Dax slammed into a severely dented wall. He grunted before drifting to the floor while Dalia was pulled back down with him.

“Ow,” she called out with a grunt.

“Sorry; that was a good catch, though,” he replied.

“Will you two stop messing around? We’ve got a mission to do,” Henuva called down.

He held Sandrina to his side while leaping up through the hole of melted and sheared steel.

“We’re coming,” Dax countered.

He pushed off the ground, righting himself before helping Dalia to her feet. Dax glanced toward Mark, who had his left hand out. The young man was yanked off his feet and soared straight toward the outer hull of their crashed cruiser. He ripped past Sandrina and Henuva, landing on top of the ship. Static roared to life over their radio with Mark acting as a conduit.

“Mark, Mark, can you hear me? Are you guys alive down there?” Jun asked.

“We’re good; working our way out,” Mark said. “Whoa, did we do this?”

“That you did,” Jun replied. “The rest have retreated. There are some ground forces that were left behind you might have to contend with.”

“Copy that,” Mark replied.

Dax saw Mark turn and look directly at him while Henuva and Sandrina reached the outer hull as well.

“You going to Clark that Lois?” Mark asked.

Dax picked Dalia up. She let out an awkward giggle.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” Dax replied.

“Who’s got you?” Mark shouted down.

“Are you Lois?” Dax countered.

With all his might, he jumped, using his boots to propel him toward the mouth with the rest of his crew. He reached the top, reversed the polarity of his gear and was pulled straight down next to Henuva.

“Holy cow,” Dax whispered.

He set Dalia down. The barren wasteland stretched as far as the eye could see. Cruisers laid fractured in the dirt, while debris drifted into the air from low gravity. Sheets of glass covered the ground from Valtakuntera bombardment while straggler fighters were quickly picked off by Jun in the Junkyard.

Henuva took several steps forward while looking around. He readied his rifle and without a word jumped off the edge of the ship. Dax watched him punch a hole in the cloud around them while drifting toward the ground, landing dozens of yards below harmlessly.

“Welcome home!” Mark shouted down.

“Seriously?” Dalia and Sandrina asked in unison.

“Dude,” Dax added.

38

HOME

Dax’s teeth were on edge. His skin crawled with impatience as he stood on the Valtakuntera hull. His eyes darted in every direction, looking for enemy ground forces while Henuva stood one step away from the dead surface of his home world.

His toes bounced in his boot. It remained motionless on the hull while Dalia’s back touched his. Mark and Sandrina positioned themselves to watch the other directions.

In the sky, surviving enemy cruisers tried to escape, only for the Death Squad to appear in a warp of red light, cutting them off while friendly vessels moved in behind them.

“Let’s keep going,” Henuva said.

Dax watched as the Valtukta took a slow, deliberate step onto the planet’s surface. He took a deep breath of relief before raising his rifle to his shoulder.

“I’ll take point,” Henuva added.

“I got second position,” Dax replied.

He raised his drawn pistol and moved out behind Henuva. Dalia and Sandrina fell in line with Mark taking the back to watch their six.

“Careful, guys,” Jun called down. “It appears a tungsten chunk recently reattached to the far side of the planet.”

“And?” Dalia asked.

“It’s large enough to affect the gravitational pull of that ravine ahead of you,” Jun added. “I’d get a move on it. You’ve got sixty-six seconds before the shift happens.”

“Execute it,” Mark said from the back.

Plasma ripped through the cloud kicked up by their crash. It struck the sand around them, turning it to glass. Dax looked over his shoulder. Through the miasma that encompassed the cruiser, more purple flew. Droplets of melted glass rained down under the trajectory of incoming fire.

Dax lifted his left hand and opened his palm. In a flash, the bolts ripped apart, drifting in the low gravity as a harmless cloud of inert gas. He marched toward Mark, who raised his hand as well.

“Go, we’ll cover you,” Dax ordered.

Henuva took off in an all-out sprint without skipping a beat. His action forced Dalia and Sandrina to do the same. Two dozen Valtakuntera members in damaged but still intact armor emerged from the cloud. Every single one of them unloaded on their position.

“Backpedal or turn and burn?” Mark asked.

Flashes of light consumed their field of view. Dax’s suit’s power reading showed a rapid drain with each repulsed shot.

“Do a sweep with the beam then turn and burn,” Dax replied.

He glanced over his shoulder to see his team jump over the out of sight ravine before landing safely on the other side.

“How long do we have?” Mark asked.

“Twenty-eight seconds,” Dax replied.

“Plenty of time!”

Mark slammed his staff into the ground. The crystal flared as he lowered his left hand. A beam of plasma ripped across the battlefield, glassing a line of sand while doing a sweep across the advancing line.

A handful had suit breaches from the attack. Most just staggered back, ceasing fire in the process. The second they stopped shooting, Dax dropped his left hand, turned and sprinted toward his team. Mark picked up his staff and did the same.

Dax’s legs moved as fast as he could make them. Mark kept up at his side, matching him step for step. They ran up a slight incline, revealing the crag in the crust that stretched into seeming eternity.

With all his strength, Dax leapt, followed closely by Mark. His countdown reached single digits as they passed the middle of the ravine. Dalia reached out with her hammer; Mark did the same with his staff.

Once in range, Dax grabbed the hammer head; Sandrina, the staff. Gravity’s rapid increase pulled both men down. Dax stuck his feet out, catching himself on the cliff edge. Mark swung down, colliding just under the lip.

“You good?” Dax asked.

“Barely felt it,” Mark replied.

Both women quickly yanked both men to safety. Dax raised his pistol, turned and pointed it at the opposing edge. The pursuing Valtakuntera reached the cliffside and jumped.

Dax’s finger rested on his trigger. Henuva aimed his rifle at their opponents, waiting for Dax to open fire. He lowered his pistol.

“What are you doing?” Henuva asked. “Give the order!”

Dax held up three fingers. He dropped one, then another, then the third. With a flourish of his wrist, he pointed at the advancing Valtukta. They entered the heightened gravity field and were immediately yanked into the abyss.

Dax stepped away from the ledge. With nothing left to lose, the falling soldiers opened fire, sending purple balls of light zipping out of the ravine for several seconds before dying down.

“That’s why. If we opened fire, the flashes would’ve given our position away for sure,” Dax replied. “At least this way, any other enemies will think it’s just the regular fight and not us.”

“Why didn’t they shoot us mid-jump?” Dalia asked.

“Our rifles aren’t completely recoilless,” Henuva explained. “That little bit of recoil could’ve been the difference between making the jump, or not.”

“Given there wasn’t a sudden influx of gravity halfway over,” Mark added.

“That too.”

Dax looked up to see the Junkyard continuing to fly a massive circle over the entire battlefield.

“Are you picking up anything, Jun?” Dax asked.

“To your left, looks like half a mile, Valtakuntera forces are clashing,” she explained. “I can’t tell who’s friendly from this distance. You will once you get closer.”

“Copy that,” Dax replied, looking at his crew. “You ready?”

Dalia held her hammer out. Sandrina fired a few rounds into the head. Mark choked up on his staff while Henuva slung his rifle over his shoulder.

“Whenever you are,” Henuva replied.

Dax turned left. He charged across the low gravity planet’s surface. Each step covered nearly thirty feet. Sand, still settling from the crash, scraped across his armor as he tore through the flats with his team close behind.

Flashes danced out of craters made by the bombardment. A notification that the specific coding Jun implanted into their communications was detected. With a flick of his eyes, Dax connected to it.

Valtukta voices filled his helmet. They shouted orders, screaming that they were being overrun, and they needed to fall back. Other voices asked for air support, only to get no response.

With a roll of his shoulder, Dax summoned his sword. Drawing it, he looked over at Henuva, who, to his surprise, kept pace with the historically faster human. The Valtukta opened his hand. His spear popped out of his prosthetic and into his hand.

“Any Valtukta on this station, cease fire,” Henuva ordered.

“Who is that?” one barked.

“I don’t recognize the voice,” another replied.

They approached the edge of the crater. Dax reached the edge, leaping forward instead of up. A contingent of Valtakuntera soldiers filled the crater, firing down a hastily dug trench to others in their same armor. The ones on the opposite side of the trench were highlighted with a soft green by Dax’s HUD.

With a swing of his sword, Dax decapitated one Valtakuntera while landing in the center of the group. With his other hand, he opened fire using his Bastet pistol. Henuva landed close by, skewering two before ripping the spear out and knocking another three off balance.

Dalia was the next to lunge over. She landed like a mortar round, slamming her hammer into the ground. The explosion of stored energy sent Valtakuntera in all directions. Sandrina lunged, an axe in each hand. With precision strikes, she cut through the enemies knocked in the air. Mark took a position on the top of the ridge. He used his staff to keep those who tried to flee inside the crater.

Chaos erupted as the OGREs joined the fight. Dax hacked, slashed and fired, taking out everything within arm’s reach and then some. The Valtakuntera tried to return fire. In the chaos, they struck mostly their own men. Those who didn’t had their bolts sliced in half by Dax’s sword, charging it so the next strike was more devastating.

Dax advanced while the rest of his crew spread out, working on the contingent as efficiently as possible. Several rounds struck his armor in glancing blows, barely making a blip on the heat index.

Extending his pistol arm, he fired at what he saw as the last Valtukta. Before the enemy hit the ground, the butt of a gun crashed onto his hand, knocking the pistol free. Without missing a beat, he spun and thrust his sword at his attacker. It slid through the armor plating like a hot knife through butter.

“You’ve got incoming,” Jun called out. “On the surface. Only a handful, too close to strafe.”

Dax drew his shotgun, pointed it at the lip of the crater. A Valtukta leaped, drifting through the low gravity. With a squeeze of his trigger, one barrel flared to life. Their attacker flipped backward, flung dozens of yards out of sight. A second sprinted into view. The other barrel roared to life, sending him back as well.

Dax flipped his gun, slid it onto his back and planted his feet as the rest rushed the top of the hole. Before they could open fire, a cone of yellow plasma ripped through the air. It melted some of the glass while enveloping their attackers, breaching their armor and leaving them to the elements.

“We clear?” Dax asked.

He turned to see his crew covered in dirt and spattered with silver blood, standing knee high in a pile of Valtakuntera.

“For now,” Jun replied. “I’ll hold my pattern. Ruthnar will continue to coordinate the Death Squad. Go capture the objective.”

“Poor choice of words. We’re not here to capture anybody,” Sandrina said, holstering her axes.

“You know what she means,” Mark countered.

Dax turned to the trench. He sheathed his sword, holstered his pistol and started walking toward the green highlighted Valtukta.

“Were you the ones who sent out the SOS?” Dax asked.

They remained silent, turning toward one another, their features hidden by their darkened helmets.

“Who’s in charge here?” Dax prodded.

“Talius,” a Valtukta near the back called out.

A series of hushed scolding and a few shoves moved through the force.

“Where is Talius?” Dax asked.

“We don’t know you,” another Valtakuntera countered. “Why would we give up that information?”

The soldier who first spoke up pushed his way through the ranks until he stood before Dax.

“Look at them,” he called out.

The Valtukta stared Dax down. He could feel the defector’s eyes on him through both helmets.

“They are clearly the OGREs we’ve been told about, the Junkyard crew.” He turned toward the group and motioned at the pile of bodies Dax left behind. “They dispatched more enemies in fifteen seconds than we have in two days. If this isn’t the crew we’ve been told about, I don’t know who is.”

“I’m glad to have your vote of confidence,” Dax said. “Now, who will take me to your leader?”

Nobody moved. After a few seconds, the one standing in front of Dax waved to him to follow.

“I will, since no one else seems to be brave enough to,” the soldier replied.

He pushed his way through the Valtukta, who made way for Dax and his team. Within a few seconds, they reached a bunker door sealed tight and covered with slag glass. The Valtukta slammed his fist on the door as hard as he could. A hiss sounded, and nearby rock slid to one side, revealing a tunnel.

“Clever,” Dax said softly.

They were led into a narrow corridor, arching toward the sealed opening to their right. Mark started to chuckle some, pulling Dax’s attention to the back of the line.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

“You actually said it,” Mark replied.

“Said what?”

“You, an alien to these people, just told them to take you to their leader.”

Dax rolled his eyes and shook his head as they were led into an airlock. It sealed around them, hissed, and the internal door opened. As they stepped inside a dirty corridor, the Valtukta removed his helmet and stepped against a nearby wall. Dax retracted his head gear as well. The stench of rust and blood burned his nostrils.

He did his best to prevent his face from contorting as a delegation of heavily armed Valtukta rounded a corner. Dax’s hand stayed near his pistol, ready to move in the blink of an eye if needed. The Valtukta in the center of the group pushed forward.

“Sir, this is a bad idea,” one of the Valtukta warned.

“No, it’s not. Because if this man was going to kill me,” the leader replied, pulling off his helmet. “He would’ve done it on Dal’no’nuuur.”

Dax took a half step back. Staring back at him was the warrior he’d let escape the day Kane died. A swirl of emotions stormed inside Dax, making him acutely aware of every muscle in his face. He took a slow, deep breath to center himself while looking the leader over carefully. Slowly, he moved his hand away from his pistol to welcome him with a handshake.

“I’m glad to see you made it out,” Dax said.

39

WAR PLAN

“We have to be quick,” Talius said.

The Valtukta turned and marched deeper into the underground fortress.

“That last barrage took out radio contact with our forces. According to last scout reports, it’s only a matter of time before they take out this installation.”

“Actually, it’s not,” Dax corrected.

Talius stopped mid-stride. He slowly turned toward Dax, his face twisted with confusion and tentative relief.

“What do you mean?” Talius asked.

“He means we took out the cruisers bombarding this position,” Dalia chimed in.

“And the Death Squad—OUR Death Squad—cut off any retreating vessels,” Henuva added.

“Last we saw, the remainder of your fleet boxed in the empress’s,” Sandrina added.

“The only battle left is with the Valtakuntera still planet side,” Henuva added. “Unless you completely withdraw, stranding them here.”

Talius’ features relaxed slightly. He looked at the soldier that escorted them in.

“It’s true, sir. They wiped out the contingent pressing on this position with melee weapons. Personal scanners weren’t showing any enemies in the immediate vicinity when we entered the compound.”

“Hm, can’t say I’m surprised. It certainly makes things easier,” Talius muttered.

He turned to the female standing at his right side.

“I need you to start coordinating a full-on evacuation. This is mission complete. Join the rest of our fleet in defensive positions and wait for my orders.”

She nodded, waved for four more to follow her and marched down the hallway.

“How long do we have until the empress comes and finishes you off with an overwhelming force?” Dax asked.

“She already thought she did,” Talius explained.

The Valtukta kept walking in the sandy, low-gravity facility. A weak, artificial gravity field tried to pull them down but its effects were minimal.

“When I broke away, I fabricated half of my fleet being pulled into a star. She thinks our numbers were significantly less than they are.”

“Yes, but when her fleet fails to report back, she’ll figure either you got the upper hand or we were involved,” Henuva added. “When that happens, every ship within leap distance of this place will get rerouted and what’s left of this world will be destroyed.”

“Then we need to get the data I managed to glean before defecting and get off what’s left of our world, wouldn’t you agree?” Talius asked, looking at Henuva.

Dax’s heart skipped a beat at the suggestion of having stolen war plans. He clenched his stomach to keep the butterflies in check while tightening his fists to maintain control of himself.

“You stole war plans?” Dax asked, barely able to keep his volume at a normal level.

“We did, and we have a list of planets the empress is going to hit first, and when she’s going to attack them, along with plans for the Ryshy and Senate.”

“That gives us a distinct advantage,” Sandrina said.

“That it does,” Talius replied.

He turned and continued walking. He continued left, descending a sloped hallway before entering a room that mimicked a cruiser bridge but a quarter of the size. Half a dozen men and women around a table looked at a map of the battlefield projecting with live updates.

“We’re clear,” one called out. “No enemy combatants are within range to be a threat.”

“Within range?” Mark asked.

“They’re on the ground, but too far to make it here on foot before we leave,” the woman replied.

“And we’re just going to leave them here?” Dax asked, approaching the table.

“We gave them the same offer you gave us,” Talius replied, joining him. “Once out of range, we’ll offer it again. I don’t intend to repay kindness with cruelty.”

“That’s good, because then we may have a problem,” Dalia chimed in, joining them. “What are your empress’ plans?”

Talius put a hand on the table. He tapped his fingers in a rhythmic pattern. The battlefield vanished and Dal’no’nuuur appeared. Dax leaned forward before looking at Dalia.

“She decided to make Dal’no’nuuur an example first. Her plan was to use Tylira to destroy the planet with everyone on it. You stopped that,” Talius explained. “With no more Dal’no or other enemy combatants, I don’t see that plan being followed through on anymore.”

He swiped his hand, showing an aquatic world.

“This was Auatus,. She drained the planet a year ago to use the water for cooling. Three sapient species went extinct. They weren’t space-faring yet.”

With another drum of his fingers, he pulled up a familiar section of space that made Dax’s nerves burn.

“She’s narrowed the Galactic Senate’s location to this section of space. She’s just working on scouting it first.”

With a swipe, a Ryshy ship appeared.

“She’s tracking the Ryshy and making a list of everyone who joins their cause. Knowing her, she’ll destroy their worlds too.”

“And let me guess, the next is Tachyon?” Dax asked.

“It is. Her informant inside went dark, otherwise, she would’ve laid siege to the station already,” Talius explained.

He swiped, bringing up the face of the Toxic Queens’ leader.

“She knows it’s too heavily fortified to take on without inside information, and they’re just xenophobic enough not to let any Valtukta, aside from Henuva, on it.”

“It’s not xenophobia,” Sandrina countered, joining the table.

“She’s right. That place has more races than the senate does,” Dax explained. “They just don’t like your species very much.”

“And I can understand why.”

“The empress also isn’t going to be getting any information from her informant,” Dax said, motioning toward the gang leader. “She and her entire gang have been wiped out.”

Excitement pulled at Talius’ face. He stood a little taller, accompanied by a soft sigh of relief from multiple Valtukta.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“We were directly involved,” Sandrina replied. “They didn’t walk away from the confrontation.”

“Ruthnar cashed the bounty for himself. He should’ve split it with you,” one of the men around the table chimed in.

“We weren’t there for her. She attacked us, we defended ourselves, Ruthnar took the final shot,” Dax countered. “The bounty’s his. It is a relief to finally know who was responsible for that bounty to begin with.”

“We killed her before the fight on Dal’no, though,” Sandrina added.

“That may be true, but I defected long before Talius,” the man explained. “I was one of the informants for the senate. I was the one that put that bounty on. Talius is the only person who’d fought you in combat. We figured he’d be a better leader since he’d be treating with you one day.”

“Well, I have to say, I appreciate your ability to sabotage,” Dax said before retracting his helmet. “Is your entire strength here?”

“No,” Talius said. “Only the divisions with one-hundred-percent defection came here. The rest are sleepers scattered throughout the empire.”

“That makes what’s to come extremely dangerous to allies,” Dalia added.

“The rest know what they’re doing,” Talius said, looking at Dalia. “When things kick off, we’re going to make sure they kick off in style. Every hidden ally is going to get on a friendly ship. The second a fight breaks out, they’re going to take over that ship and launch a surprise attack on the other cruisers in the accompanying fleet.”

Talius tapped on the table and slid his hand across, revealing several simulations of what the expected attacks would look like. Each one showed a narrow victory for their allies.

“That seems rather close to count as a success,” Henuva said, approaching the table.

“That’s because the empress ensured the layout of her empire is a heavily guarded secret, even from her own department heads. You were a scientist, right?”

Henuva nodded.

“Then you had unfettered access to the science wing. Any knowledge provided about the empire’s size was filtered through propaganda to keep it a secret.”

“And how do you know all this if it’s so closely guarded?” Sandrina asked.

“I was the personal assistant to the empress’s right hand. I may have accidentally made a few mistakes that got me put on the front line as punishment. When I realized my centuries of loyal service were to be thrown away over two typos, I decided it was probably best for my survival to join the faction.”

Talius leaned forward. He placed his fingers on opposing corners of the table and pulled them together, revealing a treasure-trove of classified information. Dax’s eyes widened. He leaned forward, resting his hand on the table.

“Holy crap,” he whispered.

“I don’t see how excrement could be divine,” Talius said before motioning toward his work. “But before I left, I stole as much information off the empress’s direct system as I could and ran.”

“She’s going to be able to see what you took and just change every plan immediately,” Mark chimed in, stepping forward. “All this data is one step above useless at this point.”

“Except her right hand takes his work home with him. I copied all of this over to his personal drive. Cloned it in transit so there wouldn’t be a digital footprint of the copy and all it looks like to them are action reports for home review. I intentionally left out any data I already knew about for that exact reason, though. To them, I’m a ghost.”

Dax watched Mark take a step back. An impressed frown spread across his face. He nodded in approval while leaning against his staff.

“I never would’ve thought about that. That’s actually pretty genius,” Mark muttered.

“I appreciate it. Admittedly, it took me longer than I’d like to admit to come up with the idea.”

“You came up with it, that’s the important thing,” Dax said.

A radio crackled to life through the table.

“Escort ship Frantath incoming for exfil,” a voice announced. “Accompanied by the starship Junkyard.”

“That’s our rides,” Talius said, looking at Dax. “Where do you want us to report?”

“There’s an ancient minefield where your people conducted a very nasty war. We blew a hole through that minefield that should be large enough for your ships to have safe passage. Take positions around the planetoid in that cloud. It’ll be a good defensive position and the magnetic fields of the mines should conceal you until we’re ready to fight.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” Talius said.

His hand moved to the side of the table to eject his data disk. Henuva stepped forward and raised a hand.

“Wait,” he ordered.

Talius looked up at him.

“The Valtakuntera are sneaky, we all know this. The empress knows we’re here. She won’t just send her fleet here to try and take us out. She’ll enact the next stage of her plan, figuring we’d be too tied up fighting for our lives to stop her or get a message out in time to put an end to it.”

Henuva tapped on the table before motioning toward the list of data.

“This is what you’re going to do before you take that disk out. You’re going to transfer all its files to the Junkyard the second she’s in range,” Henuva ordered. “I imagine you have copies yourself?”

Talius nodded.

“Okay, then you’re going to send a copy to be delivered by hand to the senate so they have the plans too. It’ll be easier to coordinate an offensive if we all have the same playbook.”

“Great use of playbook,” Dax mused, looking at the Valtukta.

“Thank you,” Henuva replied with a glance at him. “And finally, you’re going to pull up the next mission on her list so we know what her next target is going to be. From there, we’ll coordinate a counter attack, and that’s where we start this war.”

“That’s actually pretty smart,” Sandrina chimed in.

“You’re not the only ones that Kane taught,” Henuva replied.

Talius zoomed back into his wealth of knowledge. He started to cycle through the information while Mark touched his staff to the table.

“Jun, when you get close enough, transfer the data I’m relaying through my staff into the Junkyard,” he called out.

“You can’t just upload it and do it physically?” Dalia asked.

“I would, but there’s thousands of terabytes of data in there,” Mark replied, motioning toward his staff. “I don’t have that kind of free space. And I don’t think we have the time for me to go through and delete every screen shot I’ve accidentally taken trying to swipe through the overly sensitive interface.”

“Copy that,” Jun replied. “Transfer initiated. It’ll be finished before you get back to the ship.”

“Thank you,” Mark replied.

“Ah, here we go. Operation Outpost Cinder,” Talius said.

“That’s not ominous whatsoever,” Dalia said, her words dripping with sarcasm.

“I didn’t think the Valtukta had any outposts left,” Sandrina added. “I thought they were completely migratory.”

“An outpost can be anything. It doesn’t necessarily have to be theirs,” Dax countered. “It could be anyone’s. Open it. Let’s see what secrets are tucked away in there.”

“Yes, sir,” Talius replied.

He opened the briefing. Without his translating HUD, Dax was still able to read the Valtukta language as easily as he could his own. He skimmed the bureaucratically overwritten document to glean enough information that the outpost was to have twenty cruisers descend on the planet and completely glass it until there wasn’t a trace of life left on it. After, they were to move onto any other planets in the solar system with life.

Dax’s stomach dropped. His mind rushed to one place. He took a deep breath before telling himself that there wasn’t evidence to support his fear, to wait and find out where Outpost Cinder was supposed to take place.

“Well, that’s not good,” Henuva huffed.

“What’s it say?” Dalia asked.

“It’s another genocide order,” Dax explained.

“Of course it is, because what’s one more at this point,” Mark scoffed.

“Where?” Sandrina enquired.

Talius swiped down. He continued to swipe, rushing past page after page hundreds of times over with each flick of his wrist.

“Glad to see wasting time and space with unnecessarily long legal documents to slip in hidden agendas isn’t strictly a human thing,” Mark jested.

Dax’s heart stopped. He swallowed hard as a cloudy planet appeared on the screen. Mark let out an inquisitive grunt while leaning forward.

“Is it just me or does that little piece protruding from under the clouds kind of look like Chile?” he asked.

“Talius, rotate the planet, now!” Dax barked.

Terror and adrenaline surged through his body like a bolt of lightning. The Valtukta complied, rotating the small blue marble until revealing the unmistakable outline of Africa on the display.

“They’re going to Earth,” Dax whispered in near disbelief.

EPILOGUE

“Are you sure we have time for this?” Mark asked.

Dax pulled the lever on his reloader, compressing and sealing the shotgun pellets. He slid the shell into the last gap in his bandolier before grabbing two of the recently poured Fat Mac rounds.

“You saw Talius’ timetable. It’s the only thing we have time for,” Dax countered.

“We could scramble the fleets, use the black holes Jun discovered as slingshots and get a force large enough to protect Earth there in plenty of time.”

“And then what?” Dax asked. “Show the Valtakuntera that we’re not as weak as they think we are? Two fleets of that size will show up on Earth’s deep space systems. Imagine the chaos that’ll erupt when they get those readings.”

“What you’re suggesting isn’t any better,” Mark argued.

Dax grabbed two of the spent shell casings. He placed the first in the press. With the pull of a smaller lever toward him, a funnel opened, pouring gunpowder into the casing.

“Objectively, it is,” Dax said, placing the round onto the shell, “because this way won’t leave any signatures left for them to pick up on.”

“It won’t leave any of us left to be picked up on!”

Dax pulled on the lever, pushing the round into its shell. He released tension, grabbed the ammo and placed it to the side.

“That’s the point,” Dax explained.

“I’m talking about being either vaporized or atomized, not escaped,” Mark elaborated.

Dax put the next casing in place and started reloading it.

“I’ve never led you astray thus far,” Dax said, putting the bullet on top of the casing and pulling the lever once more. “I’m not going to now.”

He picked up the round, stood up and grabbed the other.

“Just trust me, okay?”

“If we run into any issues, that’s it for Earth. It’s gone like a Xenos planet when the Imperium of Man finds it.”

“They don’t tend to suffer the Xenos or Heretic to live. We have yet to find out if they tolerate the mutant,” Dax said.

He walked over to Dalia’s bandolier and slid the last two shoulder-mounted cannon shells into their place.

“You need anything reloaded?” Dax asked.

“I use a plasma staff. It’s already all charged up. Next, I’m going to get into my armor, which should be back to one hundred percent by now, and then I’m going to find the deepest, darkest crevasse in this ship to curl up and hide in.”

Dax pointed at the gun rack that sat over their false airlock door.

“You could go there,” he suggested.

Mark looked at the now disguised door.

“I forgot about that,” he mused.

“I almost did too,” Dax replied.

Dax watched Mark’s face contort while looking at the door. He let out a grunt before walking toward the ladder.

“When you’re done reloading everything, get upstairs. I know Dalia’s going to want to scold you for being reckless again.”

“I’m already all wrapped up,” Dax replied.

He quickly packed the reloading kit away. Sealing the crate, he turned and jogged toward the ladder before climbing it. Reaching the top, he sauntered onto the main deck. A black void hung before the ship with hardly any stars.

Jun inspected the instruments while Sandrina paced back and forth. Henuva drunkenly sang to himself from the chow hall while Mark threw his armor on.

“That’s not going to help you,” Dalia pointed out.

She leaned against the wall next to Jun.

“It’s my security blanket,” Mark countered.

Dalia looked straight at Dax. No disappointment or frustration at the reckless action twisted her features.

“Are you sure about this?” she asked.

Dax’s heart skipped a beat. Butterflies swarmed in his stomach. He grabbed his thumbs and squeezed, popping both joints while nodding.

“It’s the best way to save Earth and not reveal our hand to the empress,” Dax replied.

“Okay,” Dalia nodded. “Then I trust you.”

“How?” Sandrina asked. “This is an infinitely dumber idea than intentionally spacing yourself to try and kill a single person.”

Dalia looked at the Bastet. Her gaze brought a stop to Sandrina’s pacing.

“Are you telling me if you knew a Valtakuntera fleet was heading toward Bastet and this option was on the table, you honestly wouldn’t take advantage of it to save your world?” Dalia asked. “Because I would. Every single time.”

Sandrina’s shoulders dropped. She let out a sigh before nodding.

“I guess so,” she mumbled. “I still think it’s a bad idea.”

“This is going to be fantastic!” PITA called out from his charger.

Sandrina and Mark both looked at Dax. The corners of Mark’s mouth pulled back in a sarcastic expression.

“As if there weren’t any other signs that this isn’t smart, you’ve got PITA thinking it’ll be fun,” Mark said. “And might I remind you that PITA doesn’t actually stand for Personally Integrated Technological Assistant, except for maybe the first syllables of integrated and assistant.”

“That just means he’s willing to ride the lightning,” Dax teased.

A flush sounded from the restroom, followed by the bathroom door opening.

“DO YOU EVER WASH YOUR FREAKING HANDS!” PITA shouted.

Ruthnar, a half step out, turned back around. Stepping back into the bathroom, muttering under his breath just loud enough for everyone to hear but not enough to make out what he was saying. Dax listened as the Dracolich washed his hands. He stepped out, swinging the water in all directions.

“Better?” Ruthnar asked.

“Was it twenty seconds?” PITA countered.

Ruthnar rolled his eyes before looking at Dax.

“Why are they tied all up in knots?” he asked. “No one’s telling me a thing.”

Dax walked toward the cockpit. He waved for the Dracolich to join him. Ruthnar obliged, quickly positioning himself behind Jun. He motioned toward the void in front of them.

“What do you see?” Dax asked.

“A disturbingly low number of stars,” Ruthnar replied.

“Jun, with the signatures from our database, how close are we?” Dax asked.

“Close enough, but not so close we can’t get away,” she replied.

“And do you have our exit trajectory mapped?”

With a swipe of her hand, she showed a flight path on one of the half-dozen displays.

“And I can get us into leap and put several parsecs between us and this spot in a matter of seconds. I’ve also preemptively routed power from artificial gravity and lights toward the engine so once we enter leap, we’ll be able to travel an estimated three percent faster. Then using the black holes as slingshots, that’ll increase our speed by another ten percent.”

“Outstanding,” Dax said.

“I calculate our chances of pulling this off are seven out of eight.”

Dax turned toward Mark, his panicked expression faded.

“You like those odds?” Dax asked with a hint of a southern twang.

“I like those odds,” Mark nodded.

“Dang good odds!”

Mark’s helmet closed around his head. He motioned toward the corridor that led to the cargo bay.

“I’m still ducking and covering until this whole thing is over, though.”

He turned and walked away, disappearing before the clank of his boots on ladder rungs grew fainter on his descent. The squeal of rusty hinges screeched, followed by a loud clang. Dax quickly turned toward the rest of the crew.

“Anyone else want to join the duck and cover or drink and shanty teams?” he asked.

“Just give the order.” Dalia chuckled.

“Are you guys just going to keep me in the dark?” Ruthnar asked with a frustrated huff.

“Oh, it’s not going to be us that keeps you in the dark,” Dax countered.

He turned back toward the viewport. Leaning forward, he gazed into the abyss. His heart hammered against his sternum while a small voice in the back of his mind whispered not to say anything.

“Fire,” he ordered.

Jun’s finger twitched on the trigger. An enormous blue ball of plasma erupted from the front of the ship. It soared through space for miles before striking something and detonating. The splash sent waves of light in every direction, revealing the outline of a gargantuan, pitch-black creature covered in tendrils. Ruthnar let out an involuntary whimper.

“What is that?” he asked.

“We call it Leviathan,” Dax replied.

The End

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

8. Manhunt Overwatch

9. Mobilize

STAY INFORMED WITH THE PACK

This is your personal invitation to join the community we call our Pack. Below are two ways to stay in touch via email or Facebook. Either way we’d love for you to be a part of our family.

For updates about new releases, as well as exclusive promotions, visit our website and sign up for the VIP mailing list. Head there now to receive some free stories. CLICK HERE

We also created a special Facebook group called “Jonathan’s Reading Wolves” specifically for readers, where I show new cover art, do giveaways, and run contests. Please check it out and join whenever you get the chance! JOIN HERE

STAY INFORMED WITH ROSS BUZZELL

Follow Ross Buzzell on Instagram and Amazon. He’s also created a Facebook group called Ross’ O.W.S. for readers, where cover art, concept art, a peek into his everyday life, contests, and one day soon, giveaways. Please check it out and join whenever you get a chance!

For updates about new releases, as well as exclusive promotions and giveaways of content not available on the Facebook page, sign up for the VIP mailing list by clicking here.