FRINGE RUNNER

Book 1 in the Fringe Series

BY

Rachel Aukes

Chapter One

The Package

“Guys, just a friendly reminder that we have only seventeen minutes until the star swarm obliterates us.” Throttle’s words came through all too loud and clear in Aramis Reyne and Jeyde Sixx’s helmet speakers.

“Working on it,” Reyne shot back as they continued to cut through the damn near indestructible rilon hull of Myrad hauler M4029LW, which was twice as thick as they’d estimated, throwing their timetable out of whack.

“I think we should go with Plan B. Come back to the ship. Tell Genics Corp that we couldn’t get here in time,” she countered.

“Not your call.” Reyne moved to the side, giving Sixx space to secure a pry bar that resembled a spindly, long-legged spider. The tip of each leg thrust into the places along the four-square-foot lines they’d burnt into the hull.

“Usually I enjoy a bit of excitement,” Sixx said before hitting a button on his suit. The bar’s legs slammed deep into the hull, and both the pry bar and the square section of the hauler shot out into space. “But, damn if star swarms don’t scare the hell out of me.”

Reyne gave him a wry look, before he pressed into the cargo bay of the dead hauler. “Worse than that woman you hooked up with on Sol Base?”

“Double-jointed Sally? Now she was scary. The things she could do with—”

“Hey, you guys are still transmitting, and we’re down to sixteen minutes until bingo.”

“We’re in.” Reyne watched his arm display as he scanned the large round room with rows of crates fastened onto every open wall space. When his display flashed red, he frowned. “Package isn’t in the cargo bay.”

“Hey, Reyne. Check this out. Those viggin’ Myrads get all the best hauls.”

He turned to see Sixx shining his light on crates strapped against the far wall. The words, Genics Corp Biome Kits were emblazoned on each crate.

“These guys were hauling enough kits to jumpstart a new colony. You know how many credits we could get for these?”

Reyne pressed toward the door that stood between him and the rest of the ship. “More than we’re getting for the package, that’s for sure.”

“We, too, could be filthy rich, and all we have to do is sell our souls to the Collective,” came Throttle’s sarcastic add-on.

“It’s not like they’ll be able to salvage this hauler after the swarm hits it. What do you say, boss? Knowing that we’re taking from the Myrads is just as good a feeling as seeing the credits we’ll get for them.”

“We’re running short on time.” Reyne held up a finger. “You take one crate back to the Gryphon. I’ll grab the package. We don’t have time to mess around, got it?”

Reyne could see Sixx’s wide grin through his helmet. He turned back and grabbed a railing and thrust himself through the remaining distance in the gravity-free bay toward the door. “Throttle, tell Boden to prepare for incoming cargo.”

“Already done. Fifteen minutes, gentlemen. Take your time.” Her sarcasm made Reyne smile. Anxious to be done with this job and back on his own ship, he hit the door with more momentum than planned, and the impact rattled his joints. He grabbed the railing and reached for the manual gear next to the panel and cranked open the door. He grunted with each crank, frustrated that ten years earlier he could’ve done this without a bump in his heart rate.

With the last crank, the door swung outward and a large object flew past Reyne and into the cargo bay. The object, which turned out to be a frozen crew member, bounced off Sixx.

“Holy shit!” Sixx scrambled out of the way. “A little warning next time, Reyne?”

Reyne watched the body float listlessly around the bay. He frowned when he noticed the dark stain on the body’s chest. “He didn’t die from exposure.”

“Huh?”

“This man was shot,” Reyne said before pushing into the now-depressurized hallway. The system had suffered a cat fail—a catastrophic failure—rare but they happened from time to time on fringe haulers, though unheard of on a Myrad hauler. As he floated down the hallway as quickly as he safely could in Zero-G, he reported in. “You were right about the systems, Throttle. No life support of any kind. Even the emergency backup is off.”

“Why do you ever doubt me?” she replied. “And, you’re down to fourteen minutes.”

“I’ll be there. Just be ready.” He pressed through the hallway. Something had happened beyond the cat fail. That fact became more and more clear as he passed the crew quarters, counting five more crew members, each still in his quarters and each staring out into nothingness with frozen glassy eyes. More importantly, each bore a dark gunshot stain on his torso or head.

The logical explanation would be that someone on the crew spaced out. Space psychoses were common on crews who spent years in the voids of space. It wasn’t uncommon to hear of ships where one or more crew members went into full-out psychotic rage. Even so, the idea didn’t set right with Reyne.

“May you find the eversea,” he said softly.

“Thirteen minutes. Please tell me you’ve found it and on your way back.”

“Working on it.” He stopped at the captain’s quarters and peered inside to find it empty. Before attempting to open the door, he scanned the room. His scanner was weak. It wouldn’t register the crate unless he was within a dozen feet of it. Still, nothing. “Shit.”

“What’s wrong?”

He frowned. “The package should’ve been in the captain’s safe.” He looked around. “The only other place it could be is on the bridge.” He pushed off the wall and flew toward the open entrance to the bridge.

“Damn it, Reyne. Just let it go and get back here. Nothing Myrad is important enough to risk your life over.”

“I’m dropping off the cargo now,” Sixx reported. “Then, I’ll head back over.”

“Negative,” Reyne said. “There’s not enough time.”

He was holding his ship and crew too damn close to a swarm, but they were desperate for the money. The Collective had lowered their run rates and increased taxes, making it hard to break even, let alone make a profit. And so he kept going, adrenaline surging through his muscles.

In the case of a breach or electrical malfunction, even in a cat fail, all doors were set to automatically close, sealing off non-critical areas to buy time for the crew to hail for assistance. Standard protocol on all ships. An open door meant someone had to manually override the system.

“Twelve minutes. Don’t make me come and get you.”

“Don’t even think it.” Reyne found the remaining two crew members on the bridge. The pilot was still seated, strapped in at the cockpit, and sported a sizable hole in the head. He’d died before the ship froze his corpse frozen forever in a slumped position. The captain’s body lingered near the ceiling. Where the pilot’s death would have been instant, the captain was likely the last of the crew to succumb, with only a shot to her abdomen. She would’ve died from freezing hypoxia before internal bleeding got her.

Reyne didn’t have the time to be interested in their story. His scanner beeped green. “I’ve acquired the package,” he reported.

“Praise Sabra,” Throttle replied. “Now, hurry the hell back here.”

“That’s the plan.” One small problem. The gray box with the Genics Corp logo on it was lodged in the fractured view panel.

“Eleven minutes until bingo. I’m starting to get nervous.”

Reyne ignored Throttle’s voice and focused on how to get the package. It didn’t make sense for something so important not to be secured in an encrypted safe. Yet, here was the small crate stuck halfway out the view panel with space sucking at it with her cold breath. Multiple shots dotted the pane around the box, cracks webbing across the panel. The panel clearly had been breached. But, instead of smashing through, the package had crashed into the panel in a way that it had somewhat sealed the breach, keeping the pane from shattering back when the ship had pressure.

Now that Sixx and Reyne had depressurized the elite hauler, the package would be an easy grab-and-go. The only problem was that it was stuck smack dab in the middle of the view panel, leaving nowhere for Reyne to place his feet for leverage except for the fractured pane that would shatter under any weight.

“Ten minutes. Reyne, we’re getting really nervous over here.”

He bumped against the panel and new cracks formed. He grasped for the package, his thick gloves sliding right off it. He kept trying, not just because its paycheck was more than ten months’ pay they’d earn as fringe runners, but if they didn’t deliver, Genics Corp. would never hire them again.

A twinkle in the distance caught Reyne’s eye. Through the pane, he watched more and more glimmers appear as starlight reflected off space debris entangled in the asteroid’s gravitational pull. Star swarms were basically space tsunamis on an orbital schedule. No one saw star swarms close up like this. No one was that stupid.

The Gryphon would be turned into Swiss cheese if it didn’t get out ahead of the swarm.

“Throttle,” he said. “You’d better be ready for jump speed by the time the counter hits zero.”

“I’m ready to go now. You keep lollygagging, and I might decide to leave you behind, old man.”

“I knew I could count on you,” he said drily, tugging at the box. His fingers slipped, but he kept pulling.

“That’s an interesting place to put a valuable thingamajig.”

Reyne glanced over his shoulder to see Sixx fly into the bridge and grab an instrument panel to slow his speed, nearly dropping the armful of biome kits he held.

“Nine minutes. Are you on your way back?”

Reyne motioned to Sixx. “Get your sticky fingers over here. This thing’s wedged in here tight.”

Sixx looked at the biome kits in his arms for a moment before letting out a drawn-out sigh. He let go his prizes and wrapped his hands around the package. “Ready,” he said with the biome kits floating around him. “Did I mention how much I dislike star swarms. Watching one coming right at me isn’t exactly reassuring.”

Twinkling reflections from the swarm’s debris covered much of the width of the view panel now. “Then let’s get this and bug out.”

Wrapping an arm around Sixx, Reyne used his free hand to control his propulsion system. As soon as the package moved, cracks filled the panel before it shattered outward. Any hints of remaining pressure—and the biome kits—floated out into space.

Sixx scrambled and caught one kit before it got away.

“Leave ‘em,” Reyne said.

“Three minutes. Did you hear me, guys? Three minutes.”

Reyne shot Sixx a glance, and he suspected his own eyes were as wide as his jack-of-all-trade’s. “What happened to four through eight?”

“I may have forgotten to take into account the star swarm’s leading buffer impact on our acceleration. Don’t mess around, guys. I’m not joking on this. Get back here now.”

“We’ll go faster using our propulsion tanks together.” Reyne hooked onto the other man. “You hold the package. I’ll run both our suits.”

“Faster is good.”

Reyne shoved them off from the instrument panel and into space.

With Sixx clutching their payday and Reyne holding onto him, each man shot continuous full bursts from his suit to propel forward. Unfortunately, even with both at max output, their civilian-grade pressure suits were designed for slow, safe travel through space. As they moved through the blackness between the dead ship and the Gryphon, the star swarm was closing the distance in a terrifyingly deadly sort of way—like a huge, sparkling chimera coming to swallow them.

“Two minutes. I’m running through the pre-jump protocols.”

“We’re on our way,” Reyne said, wishing his suit to go faster.

“You better wait for us,” Sixx yelled out.

Every second was too slow as the distance between them and the star swarm disappeared faster than the distance between them and the Gryphon that floated like a rilon angel waiting for them.

“Sixty seconds.”

“Can’t these things go any viggin’ faster?” Sixx complained.

Reyne wracked his brain for ideas, but nothing would get them back to the ship in time. As they moved through space, his muscles shook with adrenaline and fear.

“We’re at bingo.”

The Gryphon’s Flux Whisper engine roared to life. A second later, the airlock door began to close.

Chapter Two

A Ship Caught in the Swarm

Even with both suits blasting at full propulsion, Reyne figured they needed at least ten seconds more than what they had to reach the Gryphon. He continually hit his thrust button, only to have the suit chime negative responses at his attempts.

“Ah, shit.” He grimaced before giving the order. “Get out of here, Throttle. You’ve got to leave us.”

“Don’t you dare leave us, Throttle,” Six countered, nearly breaking out of Reyne’s hold.

“Look at Boden, guys.”

Through the window on the other side of the airlock stood the ship’s mechanic. He stopped the door once it reached halfway down and was now motioning wildly with his hands. Unfortunately, Reyne couldn’t speak to him since the communication channel at that chamber had fried months ago, and he didn’t have the credits to fix it.

“I can’t make out what he’s—oh.” A retention cable shot outward from the chamber and straight toward them. Reyne had only an instant to comprehend Boden’s plan and prepare for the incoming object. “Hold on.”

The heavy tow hook of the cable collided with Reyne more so than him catching it. The impact knocked the air from his lungs and sharp pain stabbed where it had hit his chest. His suit blasted a breach alarm. Their forward movement reversed in an instant. The cable jerked to a stop, and it felt like his arms were snapped from their sockets as the men’s now-backward propulsion was now instantly halted. He scrambled to get a grip on their lifeline.

Before he had a chance to check on Sixx, the cable began to retract, slowly at first before picking up speed. A lot of speed.

Reyne tried to find his breath. “You still have the package?”

Sixx returned a muffled response.

“Good. Keep hanging on because we’re coming in hard and fast.”

It took them only a couple seconds to close the remaining distance. They flew into the airlock and slammed into the door on the far side of the small pressurization chamber.

The outer door clanged shut behind them, and the low hum the EM field cycled up the gravity in the room. The men dropped to the floor with grunts.

Reyne pulled himself to his knees, seeing stars through the pain. “That wasn’t so—”

With no warm-up, the Gryphon shot into jump speed. The men lifted off the ground for a tiny instant before smashing against the back wall.

Reyne couldn’t breathe for several long seconds before he realized that was because Sixx was lying on top of him. The red light by the door switched to green. Reyne managed to unhook their suits and roll the other man off him. He twisted off his helmet and sucked in cool fresh air.

Sixx tossed his helmet and groaned as he came up on his elbows. “You. Were saying?”

He dragged himself into a sitting position and leaned against the wall. “What are you complaining about? You used me to cushion your fall.”

“Yeah? Try having a biome kit smash through your helmet.”

Reyne looked to his friend’s helmet shattered and blood flowing from Sixx’s now-broken nose. “You good?”

Sixx gave a lopsided grin. “I’ll be a whole lot better after we offload our new cargo and have a shitload of credits in my pockets.”

Reyne chuckled, then grunted, tentatively rubbing his tender chest. “Hell, it feels like I’ve bruised or broken half the bones in my body.”

“Only half?”

He kicked out of his suit and hooked it up to its charging station.

Sixx patted the biome kit. “This one’s all mine. I earned it.”

“You about got yourself killed for it,” Reyne said before giving his friend a hard eye. “I ordered you to stay on the Gryphon.”

“What, and let you have all the fun?”

“I would’ve been very pissed at you if you got yourself killed.”

The inner door to the pressurization chamber opened, and Boden stepped inside. He took a quick look at each of them and gave a reassuring nod. “I was beginning to think you two weren’t going to give up your front row seats to the star swarm.”

“Nah. That show’s overrated,” Sixx replied.

Reyne nodded to the mechanic. “Quick thinking with the cable. You saved our asses back there.”

“I had to try something. Throttle would’ve killed me if I left you out there,” the mechanic and then disappearing around the door.

Using the wall for support, Reyne pulled himself to his feet. He helped Sixx up. “How’s the package?”

Sixx picked up the metal box and looked it over. “A few scratches, but still sealed. I can only assume the contents are secure, assuming they survived a scalar freeze. It’d be a lot easier if they told us what was in here.”

“As long as they pay us, I don’t care.”

Something clanged against the outer hull, quickly followed by something that sounded like it tore a hole through the ship. Reyne shot a glance at Sixx. “Get that package secure.”

Reyne took off at a run, or at least as fast as a battered, arthritic old man could run.

“Status,” he called out as soon as he reached the bridge.

Throttle didn’t look up from her instrument panel. “We were too late going to jump speed. We’re getting dinged up by the leading edges of the swarm, but the jump shields are holding. We’ll get through it in time,” She tacked on, “I hope.”

“You hope?” Reyne asked.

She didn’t reply.

He turned his attention to the view panel. A cacophony of tiny collisions sparked against the jump shield and chewed at his raw nerves. Glimpses of debris lit up space like tiny stars. Many chunks were smaller than an inch in diameter, but each one capable of piercing a view panel without jump shields as easily as a knife tip through a sheet of paper.

A larger metallic shard skidded off the jump shield, and he instinctively ducked. “How close are we to the leading edge?”

“Close. I’m trying to get us a little closer.”

He spun around “You’re what?”

“We’re too close to outrun the asteroid’s gravitational pull, so I’m skimming across the leading edge like I would in a planet’s orbit. If we hit it at just the right angle, we should skip right off the buffer instead of getting sucked into the swarm. At least that’s my guess.”

Turbulence sent Reyne collapsing into his seat, and he buckled in.

Throttle held onto the instrument panel with one hand while punching in commands with her other. “Just a few more seconds,” she said.

A chunk of what looked like Myrad hauler M4029LW collided with the bow, and the ship pitched. Then, as quickly as the star swarm hail began, the space outside became blissful silence.

“Damage report?” he asked.

“It will take some time to run diagnostics, but the engine isn’t running at full capacity, and I’m showing a thirty-four percent vulnerability in our jump shield.”

He blew out a breath. “That’s not going to be a cheap bill.” He pulled up the quadrant map. “If we maintain jump, we can be to Ice Port in seventy-four hours, still well before our deadline.”

She shook her head. “If we lose any more of the jump shield, we’ll have to drop to sub speed.”

Reyne tapped the comm. “Boden, you there?”

“Here, boss.”

“We need to boost the jump shield. Divert any extra power you can find.”

“That’s a big viggin’ negative. We’re lucky to have life support. We have five-foot-long chunk of rilon sticking through our stern right now. Damn thing skittered right across our jump shield to nail us in the ass.”

Reyne winced. “Shit.”

“I need us to shut down as soon as possible to plug the leak in the stern or else we’ll never make it home.”

Reyne watched his pilot before he replied to make sure she was listening. “Throttle will drop us out of jump speed as soon as we’re a safe distance from the swarm.”

“Give me ten minutes,” Throttle added.

“Can you work on the hull with the solar sails out?” Reyne asked.

A pause. “I’ll make it work.”

“I know you can do it.” He released the comm, unbuckled his belt, and pushed from his seat with a groan. “While Boden’s working on repairs, I want you to work out the fastest course for Ice Port. I want that damn Genics package off this ship as soon as possible.”

“Consider it done. One more thing.” She abruptly unlocked her wheelchair and spun around to give Reyne a hard look. “What you did back at that hauler was an asshole move. Don’t you ever order me to leave you behind again.”

“The overall safety of the crew has to come before me,” he countered.

“And, you and Jeyde aren’t part of the crew?”

“We knew the risk when we went out there. You should’ve—”

She held up her hand to stop him. “Get it through that thick skull of yours. I won’t leave you behind. No matter what the situation. Trying to order me otherwise is a waste of breath.”

He strode to her and squeezed her shoulder, using the physical contact to convey things he never could say right. After a moment, emotion softened her features and she placed her hand over his.

He pulled away and headed to the doorway. “By the way, where in the galaxy did you ever pick up a term like ‘lollygagging’?”

She shrugged. “Probably from you, old guy.”

He smirked and left the bridge.

The hallway’s soft neural lights brightened to signal the dawn of the thirty-hour standard day across the Collective. His bunk was the nearest room to the bridge. He pressed the manual switch to open the door—the retinal scans had long since stopped working—and stumbled inside. Not bothering to kick off his boots, he collapsed onto his bed and sighed, closing his eyes.

The constant hum of the Gryphon’s systems soothed his frayed nerves, and he felt himself relax. Here, he was home. The only place he ever truly felt safe. He inhaled deeply and winced at the pain in his chest. Grudgingly, he pushed off from his bunk and shuffled down to the medical bay. There, he found Sixx lying on the only table and illuminated by amethyst light from the overhead bio-scanner.

Reyne leaned against the wall and waited.

Doc looked up briefly. “I should’ve known that you’d manage to get yourself injured, too,” she said before turning back to Sixx. “You have no broken bones and no signs of internal injuries, Jeyde. However, you have torn ligaments in your knee and have a hairline fracture in your left wrist. I’ll wrap your wrist, and I’ll put you on a three-day cycle of injections for your knee.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sixx said. “What I need are some pain killers, Doc.”

She grabbed a syringe off the table and gave him an injection in his knee and he sucked in air.

“Damn, the hurts.”

“That should teach you for treating your body like a battering ram.” She swapped the syringe for a case of pills and placed a single pill into Sixx’s palm.

“Only one? Seriously, Doc. That won’t even take the edge off. I need at least three.”

She gave a tut. “You’re in your prime. You’ll be at one hundred percent in no time.”

Reyne smirked as he watched the pair hold a battle of the wills, knowing full well Sixx didn’t stand a chance. After lasting longer than Reyne expected, Sixx relented and swallowed the single pill without any water. “You’re brutal, Doc.” He climbed to his feet and limped away from the table.

As he passed Reyne, he said softly, “She’s in a mood today. Good luck.”

“I heard that,” Doc called out.

With that, Sixx scurried to leave Reyne alone with Doc.

She patted the table. “Your turn, captain.”

He winced as he pulled himself onto the table.

“Where do you feel pain?” she asked.

“Everywhere.”

Her gaze narrowed.

So he added, “My chest hurts the most.”

With no further acknowledgement, Doc helped him lie back before moving to her control panel.

The overhead scanner lit the small room in its ambient glow. Beginning at his head, the scanner’s silent line of light progressed toward his feet.

When the light shut off, Doc read the results on her monitor. “You got off easier than Jeyde. Your chest hurts because you have three bruised ribs. You also have some tearing in your shoulder. A single injection and some sleep should have you recharged in no time.” She pursed her lips. “You need to be careful. You’re twice Jeyde’s age. Your body isn’t going to snap back after every new abuse you throw at it.”

“Trust me,” he said, sitting up. “It reminds me every minute of every day.”

Her voice softened. “Is the arthritis getting worse?”

He didn’t respond.

She motioned to the man-sized booth in the corner. “You’ve got to start spending more time in the gravity chamber. Too many years in ships’ point-seven gravity factor has taken decades your bones and joints.”

His upper lip curled into a snarl at the booth, finding it hard to breathe even looking at the thing.

Doc cocked her head. “I know it isn’t easy, but, it’s important.”

“I’ll log an hour in it tomorrow.”

Her brows rose. “Promise?”

“No.”

She sighed. “Have you tried watching a movie in there to take your mind off your claustrophobia?”

“Yes.”

She placed a hand on his chest. “Try it. Please.”

Doc didn’t wait for a response. Instead, she leaned in and pressed her lips against his.

“Later,” he said, in between her kisses. “I need rack time.”

She pulled back to take him in, before pressing him back onto the table. He lay down willingly and let her straddle him. He knew he had no more chance of swaying Doc when it came to her sexual needs than Sixx had earlier in asking for painkillers.

Some time later, Reyne finally pushed off from the table. Doc began tidying up the med bay.

“Where’s my pill?”

“Your injuries don’t warrant a painkiller.”

“Come on, I’m the captain. Doesn’t that warrant any special privileges?”

“All the more reason not to have drugs clouding your mind.”

“Oh, but it’s okay for Sixx?”

Doc shot him a wry look. “Do you really think Jeyde’s decision-making abilities could get any worse?”

“Good point.”

She shooed him away. “Now, off with you. I’m starving and want some breakfast.”

Doc didn’t have to tell Reyne twice. He headed out and straight to his bunk, collapsing onto the mattress. Not two seconds after he closed his eyes, his comm chimed.

“What the hell is it?”

“Hello, grumpy,” Throttle replied. “You should take a nap.”

“Brilliant idea,” he gritted out.

“Except it’ll have to come later. Kason’s pinging you.”

He groaned. “I’ll be right there.”

He dragged himself up and made a detour through the commons. When he reached the bridge, he tossed Throttle a food bar and drink bag, and she caught both.

“How’s Boden coming along with repairs?” He asked as he tore into his own food.

“He said he needs a couple more hours. Then we’ll be good to go as long as we stay on solar power. I’ve plugged in our scalar plan to Ice Port. We should arrive in eighty-seven hours.” She yawned. “Oh, and Kason’s on channel Four.”

“Eighty-seven hours is cutting it close.”

“We’ll make it.”

He sat down and took a long drink before opening the comm channel. Unable to get a live video feed this deep into the fringe, Kason’s picture showed instead on the screen. Clean-cut and generally well-behaved, he was one of the few guys in the Collective that Reyne would trust to date Throttle.

“Tell me you’ve got the package,” Kason said.

“I’ve got the package. I’ll reach Ice Port on day one-twenty-six around time—” he looked to Throttle.

She held up her fingers in a quick succession of movement.

“—twenty-six-forty-five common time,” he finished. “If we can drop it off at the stationhouse, all the better. That package put us behind schedule on our mail delivery.”

Audio relays were delayed by a couple seconds per every ten light years or so. Kason’s response came faster than Reyne expected, meaning the Alluvian must’ve been calling from one of his fringe offices. “Genics Corp gave specific instructions. You are to hand deliver the package to Vym. They won’t transmit the credits until you verify she’s personally signed for it.”

Reyne frowned. Vym was Ice Port’s stationmaster. Her vocal opinions against Collective companies, especially Genics Corp, were no secret. “Genics Corp must be paying her a hefty sum to get her involved.”

After a delay, Kason’s answer came. “I wouldn’t be surprised. I know I’m seeing a bigger cut for it. Anyway, I need to sign off. Report in when you land.”

Reyne closed the channel, put his feet up, and looked out the view panel. Outside, he could see nothing but infinite space. Scalar solitude was a stark difference from the star swarm they’d escaped barely two hours earlier.

This solar system had hundreds of large asteroids in orbit. Generations of using space as a dumping ground of satellites, stations, and other waste had led to a few of these asteroids to suck up space junk into their destructive mass. As an asteroid accumulated junk, its path widened, shooting through anything unfortunate enough to get caught in it. The larger swarms had even been given names. This particular one was called Hugo. By now, anything left of hauler M4029LW would be a part of Hugo’s gravity pull, flying in orbit.

A loud beep broke his concentration. “What now?”

“That’s strange,” Throttle said. “We’re being flagged, but I didn’t pick up anyone on radar.”

Reyne’s feet dropped to the floor and he flew his hands over his console. “Stealth.”

“They sent a message.” Her voice bore a nervous tinge.

“Speakers,” he commanded.

“Fringe hauler Playa-Seven-Five-Five-One-Bravo, this is the Collective Unified Forces battleship Arcadia. You have been flagged for a standard dock check. You are hereby ordered to dock onto the Arcadia at port Two. You have five minutes to comply. If you show any signs of noncompliance, you will be fired upon. Respond within sixty seconds of your compliance. Convey ship logs and crew list with compliance.”

“Shit,” Reyne said. After taking a deep breath, he hit the transmit switch. “Arcadia, this is Playa-Seven-Five-Five-One-Bravo. Received instructions and will comply. We’ve been doing some maintenance and running slow. It may take us a bit longer to dock.”

“Fringe hauler Playa-One-Bravo, you have five minutes to comply.”

Reyne glanced at Throttle. “You can always count on the CUF to be consistent.”

“Yeah, consistently be assholes.” He gritted his teeth before broadcasting an alert to the crew. He hit a switch to transmit throughout the ship. “Red alert, guys. We’ve been invited to tea with our CUF friends. Check your bunks. Make sure you hide anything less than perfectly legal because we’re about to be boarded.”

Chapter Three

Collective Cages

CUF ships stopped and searched fringe haulers all the time—sometimes out of boredom, sometimes after being tipped off that a particular hauler carried contraband, most of the time just to make life harder for colonists.

Throttle’s brows were furrowed in confusion. “Why do you think they used stealth on us?”

Reyne shook his head. “Don’t know, but I bet we’re about to find out.”

It was unheard of for CUF ships to burn the extra juice needed for stealth, using the advanced tech only when they needed to make sure their prey wouldn’t see them coming and run. In Reyne’s twenty-plus years as a runner, he’d been dock checked every few months by a CUF patrol, but he’d always been careful. With a past like his, he had to be. He played by their rules, and every single time he’d left with his cargo intact, with often a frivolous citation or two as a memento.

In all that time, he’d never been tracked by a warship in stealth mode.

Whatever the reason for this stop, Reyne knew it couldn’t bode well for him and his crew. His sore muscles were forgotten as he watched Throttle bring the Gryphon alongside the massive gray warship. They glided pass the ship’s name—ARCADIA—emblazoned on its hull.

“They’ve already rolled out the welcome mat,” she said, and he then noticed the opened bay doors a couple hundred meters down from their current position. A number 2 was painted in iridescent white near the opening.

“Slowing to point three. Setting thruster for sixty-degree turn.” Throttle spoke her maneuvers aloud, a habit she picked up at the age of eight.

As she effortlessly negotiated the docking procedures, claw-like rilon docking bars clamped onto the Gryphon with a metallic clang.

Reyne took a deep breath, suddenly feeling trapped like that Myrad hauler standing before the star swarm.

“We’re in their hands now,” she finished talking through her procedures. “Let’s hope they’re gentler than the last dock check. We still have a shimmy in the landing gear.”

“It’s on the fix list.”

A pressurized tube shot out from the dock wall and fastened over their port. The comm panel beeped.

“Hauler Playa-One-Bravo, we read green on docking sequence. Your ship must be shut down. The entire crew must proceed immediately through the docking tube for decontamination and interviews. No weapons or hostility of any kind will be tolerated.”

Throttle unlocked her seat and wheeled back. “I suppose we shouldn’t keep our gracious hosts waiting,” she said with her usual hint of sarcasm.

“I suppose we shouldn’t,” he echoed.

He followed her down the hallway. The rest of the crew stood waiting for them at the small port door. When Reyne approached, Sixx cranked open the door. He then took a step back and waved his arm in an exaggerated motion. “After you, captain.”

Reyne chortled and entered the tube that was no more than four feet in diameter. He walked in a crouch through the tunnel, his bruised ribs crying out against the unnatural position.

“Viggin’ CUF,” Boden grumbled.

“Careful. If they hear you, you’ll be issued a citation,” Reyne said over his shoulder.

Throttle followed Boden into the tube, the sounds of her dragging herself on her hands, echoed through the small space as her wheelchair too large for docking tubes.

Reyne quickly reached the other end and climbed out into the decontamination chamber. Boden landed heavily on his feet and turned around to catch Throttle. Doc followed, with Sixx covering the rear.

As soon as Sixx was clear of the tube, a door snapped shut, sealing them in the small chamber. Mist shot out from the walls, encapsulating them in damp spray. Reyne didn’t mind the spray, but he hated what came next. After several seconds of the spray soaking their skin, the wind came, nearly knocking him down. The wind—what was referred to as the rinse cycle—burned his eyes and etched his skin raw.

All Collective ships and ports had decontamination chambers to prevent the spread of viruses across planets, but Reyne was convinced they cranked up the rinse cycle on anyone from the fringe just to be assholes.

When the room cleared and Reyne could see, he turned to his crew to see them all red-skinned and with tears streaming down their faces. “You all good?”

He received nods and rough affirmations.

Boden jostled Throttle, and she smacked his chest. “Damn it, Tren. I’m not a viggin’ doll.”

“My eye itches,” he replied, sounding hopeless.

Sixx grinned. “Quit gritting your teeth, T. You know you like it.”

She flipped Sixx off before sulking in Boden’s arms.

The entire wall shot up into the ceiling with a whoosh, and Reyne turned to face their hosts. At least a dozen dromadiers stood, each soldier holding a proton gun with stun sticks strapped to their legs. They wore blue chimesuits, nicknamed for the sounds that emitted from them.

“Line up and face us,” one of them ordered, and Reyne’s crew did as they were instructed, following the same protocols they’d gone through during every CUF dock check before.

An officer emerged, followed by an assistant carrying a DNA probe.

The pair stopped in front of Reyne. The officer’s skin had the bluish tint that all citizens who’d spent a lifetime on the silver-rich planet of Myr had. “You may call me Laciam. I’m First Officer of the Arcadia, serving under Commandant Heid.”

“I’m Aramis Reyne, and this is my crew.”

“I already know who you are. The Uprising hasn’t been that long ago. My assistant will verify your identities. Bare your left forearms. Do not make any sudden moves, or you will be arrested.”

His assistant, a pale, scrawny conscript, held a dark rectangular instrument over Reyne’s forearm. He winced at the quick prick of the instrument drawing a sample of his blood. The assistant looked at the screen and announced, “Identify confirmed. Aramis Reyne, Playa colonist.”

Laciam didn’t acknowledge the results as he’d become engrossed with Throttle. He cocked his head, as though he was looking at a three-eyed dog. “What’s wrong with you?”

“My legs don’t work.”

Laciam frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m paralyzed,” she said in a monotone voice. “My legs don’t work.”

“Fascinating.” He then took an obvious step back, as though she could be contagious. “I’ve heard about such things but have never seen one in real life. You know, if you were a citizen, your faults could’ve been repaired.”

Throttle clenched her jaw, but said nothing.

Reyne stepped in. “Colonists don’t have those kinds of luxuries.” He forced a smile. “I’m sure you’re busy, officer. What can we do to help you process us so we can get out of your hair?”

Laciam snapped on him. “You don’t speak until spoken to, got it? I can keep you runners on board this ship as long as I feel like it. You want to spend a week in the brig?”

“Not especially,” Reyne answered.

The CUF officer watched Reyne for a tense moment. He finally nodded to his assistant to resume the task at hand.

Tren had to jostle Throttle again to reveal his forearm to the assistant.

“Confirmed. Tren Boden. Alluvian non-citizen,” The assistant read from his monitor.

He moved onto Throttle. “Confirmed. Halit Herley. Terra colonist.”

Then came Doc.

“Confirmed. Aila Chapei. Terra colonist.”

Finally, Sixx held out his arm.

“Confirmed. Jeyde Sixx. Playa colonist.”

Laciam scrutinized Reyne and his crew. “It’s your lucky day. It seems you match up with your crew list. Now, follow me to your holding rooms for debriefing.”

“We know the routine,” Reyne said. “But, we’re up against a tight deadline to get to Ice Port.”

“You’ll stay here as long as I see fit, even longer if I find you’re smuggling contraband.” Laciam motioned and the dromadiers closed in around Reyne and his crew as though they’d try to make a run for it, but even if they wanted to—and Reyne certainly did—it wasn’t as though any of them could escape while trapped in the bowels of a CUF warship.

Laciam led them down a large hallway until they reached a line of doors along one wall. He punched several keys on his wrist-comm, and several doors opened.

“One per room. Get moving,” the officer commanded.

Reyne’s crew split into their cells. The dromadiers were none too patient as Boden carried Throttle into a cell and set her down. They yanked him away out of her cell and shoved him into a cell next to hers. “Lay off. I’m going, I’m going.”

Once his crew was in each of their cells, Reyne entered the last open cell. Even though he had no control over what the CUF did to his people, he still felt responsible for them and would damn well do everything in his power to see that they were treated as well as colonists could expected to be treated.

His cell was a tiny room, made of bright white walls saturated in a near-blinding light. The cell’s only furnishing was a short solid plastic bench protruding from one wall. Spotlessly clean, and exactly like every other CUF holding cell he’d been in before.

Reyne took a seat, covered his eyes, and tried to catch some sleep.

No such luck.

The sound of powered movement alerted Reyne. Scowling, he opened his eyes and squinted against the dark shape emerging through the brightness. As his eyes adjusted, he noticed that a table and a cushioned bench had come out of the wall. He didn’t need to look around to know that there was also an automatic gun leveled on him from the ceiling.

“Good day, Captain Reyne,” the woman said as her features sharpened in the light. “I am Commandant Heid. Welcome to the Arcadia. I hope Laciam was not overzealous in processing your crew.”

Reyne’s brow rose is surprise as he pushed to his feet to meet the senior officer at eye-level. “In all my years as a runner, this is the first time a commandant has come down to talk to me. Add that to the fact you burned juice on stealth, I’m guessing this is no ordinary dock check.”

“Perhaps.” She smiled. “But, you’ve spoken with commandants in past, haven’t you? During the Uprising. Today, is a standard dock check, more or less.”

“If it’s a standard check,” Reyne said while Heid took a seat across the table from him. “Then, this should be wrapped up in no time. As you should be able to read in my records, I’m a legit runner, and I hold my crew to the same high standards.”

Heid chuckled, and Reyne realized just how young the officer was, which meant she’d earned her rank from money—or was very, very good at her job.

“’High standards’ is not a term I’d apply to your crew.”

He took a seat opposite her, but she didn’t look up as she scrolled through whatever information she was perusing on his wrist comm.

“I think ‘miscreants’ may be a better term, don’t you think?”

He didn’t answer.

“One of your crew members has seventy-eight open misdemeanors filed against him.”

“The CUF doesn’t deal with misdemeanors,” he countered, trying not to grin that Sixx must’ve gotten another misdemeanor in between their most recent runs.

“Another one has been in and out of rehab three times for sweet soy addiction.”

“Boden’s clean now. That’s ancient history.”

“Last rehab was only eleven months ago.” She glowered. “Sweet soy is a plague. I saw it everywhere growing up. I’m from First City, on the other side of town from where Tren would’ve grown up. Life isn’t easy for tenureds. Nearly all of them are addicts by the age of ten. He never stood a chance, really. I can’t imagine how much he must hate every citizen he sees.” She paused. “Though, I imagine your other two crew members hold even more hatred in their hearts against my people. Tell, me Captain Reyne. Do you still hate citizens as zealously as you did in the Uprising?”

“I never had anything against citizens. I was just against the unfair treatment of colonists.”

“Ah, but the two lines can become blurred. I imagine many of your torrents in the Uprising couldn’t differentiate between the two. Speaking of the Uprising, I was too young to participate, but I read about how you inspired rebellion. You were never afraid take lead in battles. It was almost as though you weren’t afraid to die.”

He shrugged. “None of us get out of life alive.”

“No, I suppose not. But, while you had a reputation for taking dangerous risks, I also saw that you were never foolish. I studied your style. You led with your head and not your heart. I consider us kindred spirits in that.”

He guffawed. “A citizen comparing herself to a colonist? Now, I’ve heard it all.”

Her lips curled upward. “We’re more alike than you think. You know what else I think?”

“What’s that?”

“I think you are still a torrent. Just like your entire crew are torrents.”

“There are no torrents left,” he said simply. “They all died at Broken Mountain.”

“Ah, Broken Mountain.” She gave him a sympathetic look.

He fought to hold himself back from tackling and strangling her.

“The entire Collective equates the name Aramis Reyne with Traitor,” she said. “What impresses me is how you’ve managed to stay alive this long. You didn’t change your identity. You still fly the Gryphon. You’re basically spitting in the eye of the torrent spirit. How, in twenty years, did you not end up with a photon blast to the brain?”

Reyne forced himself to breathe slowly in and out. “Just lucky, I guess.”

She cocked her head. “Lucky is one thing you most definitely aren’t.” She leaned forward. “Will you tell me the story?”

His jaw tightened. “I’m guessing you’ve heard it already.”

“I’ve read your records, but they lack the flavor of what really happened. They speak of how a torrent marshal and a medic were at a farm, helping an injured little girl when they were attacked. The marshal was badly injured while holding off the dromadiers so that the medic could escape with the girl. Instead of killing the marshal, they arrested him and brought him to the CUF base nearby. It was there, while he was shackled to a gurney, that an officer placed a radio in his room so could could listen to the attack on Broken Mountain as it happened.

“Rather than breaking the marshal’s spirit as intended, it sent him into a berserker rage. Somehow, he managed to break free from his bonds and take the officer hostage. The marshal would’ve gotten free, too, except an adjutant showed up with two dromadiers, each one holding a gun held to the head of the medic and little girl. They threatened tit for tat, so to speak. The marshal hadn’t realized that the pair had also been captured, and he surrendered rather than escape and live with their deaths on his conscience. The marshal was held on that base until after the torrents surrendered.”

She held up a finger. “But, rather than sent to the Citadel for prison or execution, the officer granted the marshal’s freedom. The Gryphon was disarmed and all three of them were released, without further adieu.”

Reyne’s heart pounded as he relived the weeks he spent at the CUF base in his head. “Nice story, but I don’t see where you’re going with this.”

She frowned. “The records have too many gaps, especially between the time of your attempted escape and your eventual freedom.”

His brows rose. “Is this why you stopped my ship? To fill in some gaps for your story?”

The side of her lip curled upward. “No. I have other business, but I’ve always found your story fascinating. Will you tell me why the officer expunged your record?”

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

She tapped a finger on the table. “I have two theories. My first theory is that when you found that small, broken girl, surrounded by death, she tugged at the last shreds of humanity you had left. Unable to let her die, you betrayed the torrents to save her life.” She cocked her head. “Or, you were a scapegoat. You remained true to the torrents, despite all risks to yourself and to the two females. Whether it was by calculation or by generosity, the officer released you. His actions set you up to take the fall, especially when all the other torrent marshals were sent to the Citadel or escaped to the edges of the fringe.”

Reyne stared at her, teeth and fists clenched. “You don’t know me.”

She shrugged. “You’re right. I don’t know you, but I bet one of my theories is right, isn’t it?”

He pushed off from his bench. “Are we done here?”

“No, we’re not finished. Sit down.”

He didn’t move. After an interminable silence, he relented and sat down.

“Now that we’ve had a chance to talk, I think I know which theory is correct.”

“And which one might that be?”

Her wrist comm chimed, and she glanced down. She sighed deeply. “Our time together is growing short, and so we must talk about your cargo.”

“Your men will find nothing,” he said coldly. “I’ve never smuggled contraband.”

“It’s not illegal cargo I’m interested in,” she replied. “Tell me about the Genics contract.”

His eyes narrowed as she confirmed his suspicions regarding the reason why they’d been stopped. “There’s nothing to tell. Standard salvage contract. A hauler ended up stranded in the path of a star swarm. We were sent in to retrieve a high-priority package. I have all the paperwork.”

“I’ve read the paperwork. You didn’t find it suspicious that a modern hauler would have a level one catastrophic failure—one where not a single crew member could reach an escape pod in time—exactly in the path of a star swarm only a few hours away?”

“You tell me. I’m a runner, not a detective.”

“Hm.” She tilted her head. “What did you find on the hauler? What was the state of the crew?”

“Standard cat fail. All crew dead from exposure. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Really?” Heid watched Reyne for an uncomfortably long moment. “How convenient for you that we’ll never know now that the ship has been destroyed.”

Her comm chimed again, and she looked away from Reyne to read the message. She looked up. “I have what I need. My apologies for detaining you and your crew, and my apologies for having to seize the package you salvaged from the hauler.”

Reyne hands hit the table. “Why? All the paperwork is legal. You can’t do that.”

She ignored his question. “My men also removed several units of biome kits, as you did not have proper paperwork.”

“We found them on the hauler,” he gritted out. “Code Eighty-Four-Bravo-Twenty-Six. It’s fully legal to salvage ships containing supplies facing eminent degradation if the owners cannot retrieve them in time. Paperwork is not required as long as the goods are logged into the system, which I did. I’m a licensed runner. You can’t take legal cargo without a warrant.”

“I’m a commandant in the Collective Unified Forces. I will do anything I please in order to preserve the Collective’s wellbeing.”

“Including stealing from colonists?” he snapped back.

“I’m not stealing. I’m reappropriating those biome kits to where they can be better used.”

His eyes narrowed. “Sure you are. And the package?”

She stood and headed to the door. “I believe we’re done for today, captain. Thank you for the conversation.”

“Wait.” He jumped to his feet. “What’s in the package?”

She stood in the doorway, as though thinking. “You ever wonder about the decision you made while imprisoned on Terra? That it was the wrong decision?”

It took a second or two for her question to process in his head after the abrupt subject change. “Never.”

Heid gave a small nod and an almost-smile. “Don’t be glum. You should be thanking me. After all, I just saved Ice Port.”

Chapter Four

Unfinished Business

Heid

Commandant Gabriela Heid stood before the monitor in her quarters and watched the Gryphon detach from the docking bay. The pilot’s skills impressed her, especially considering the colonist’s disability and lack of professional training. Heid was half-tempted to offer her a position under her command. After all, she had a gift for finding high potentials. She would see to the repair of the colonist’s spine, but she wasn’t convinced that would be enough to sway the pilot to join her crew without conscripting her into service. Still, she made a note to have Sebin add her to her personal watch list.

She turned her attention back to the package resting on her table. She found its presence distasteful and didn’t touch it. She preferred to be as far from it as possible. When she heard of its existence through sources far too reliable to be wrong, she knew it needed to be destroyed. Nonetheless, despite the actions she and her counterparts had taken to ensure its demise on the Myrad hauler, it continued its path against everything Heid had worked for.

She reached for the personal tablet she carried everywhere and entered her credentials. Once the tablet ran through its series of encryption protocols, she fired off a message.

Mason ~

The cake is ready for delivery.

~ Baker

Within minutes, she received an encrypted response.

Baker ~

Driver will pick up the cake from you and deliver it to the party. Ensure he has it ten hours before the event.

~ Mason

She committed the message to memory and then deleted it. No later than sliding the tablet into her pocket, her door chimed, and her adjutant’s image appeared on the monitor.

“Enter,” she commanded.

Sebin Reinhardt strode into her quarters. “All biome kits retrieved from the fringe runner have been secured in cold storage, sir.”

Heid nodded. “Let’s pray the kits can be used for new settlements rather than to rebuild existing ones.”

Sebin glanced at the wall panel.

She motioned to the same panel. “I already have the dampener on. The room is secure, Sebin. You can speak freely.”

“Any references to the package have been removed from the ship logs, Baker.” He intentionally called her by the codename no one else on the Arcadia knew—a codename that would spell their deaths if it became known to the wrong person.

She sighed in relief. “Excellent work, Sebin. Today, we saved the life of Seamstress as well as the lives of thousands of Playans.”

“Have you received instructions on what we are to do with the package?”

“I have. We’ll be heading home to Alluvia. I imagine my crew is all in need of some R&R.”

His brows rose. “Alluvia? Isn’t that too dangerous? What if the package breaks open?”

She shook her head. “It’ll never touch Alluvia’s surface. As soon as we reach orbit, the Driver will relieve you of the package and see the remainder of its journey back to its creator.”

A smile crept up his face, but Heid didn’t smile. Instead, she added, “We can only hope that we’re able to prevent the delivery of other packages.”

He frowned. “Why would there be more? I thought this was aimed at Vym Patel for her slander against the Collective.”

She solemnly shook her head. “I’m convinced there is little value in Myr making a move to take Ice Port out of the picture without having moves in play for all four fringe stations. Maybe they won’t send packages, but I know they have something planned.”

“Mason will find out if there are other packages,” Sebin offered hopefully. “He has to.”

“Let’s hope he does so in time.” She paused. “Now, we need to return to our CUF duties. I’ll secure the package along with further instructions in my personal safe. You know the access code. Retrieve it the moment we reach Alluvian orbit. I’ll count on you to handle it from there.”

“I’ll see it done.” His gaze softened. “Is there anything you need, Gabriela?”

She smiled warmly. “No. Get some rest. You’ll need it. I worry the CUF will be busier after United Day.”

He watched her for a brief moment. Then, he stood taller and clicked his boots together. “For the free.”

She sobered and clicked her boots in response. “For the Founders.”

Chapter Five

Infinite Problems

Even after Boden worked miracles in patching the hull, the Gryphon docked at Ice Port on Playa three hours after their delivery deadline. No matter how fast Reyne hustled from the docks, he knew he was in for a penalty. He hadn’t even stepped through Kason’s door before his usually stoic handler jumped to his feet.

“You’re late. In all the years we’ve worked together, you’ve never missed a deadline. Not once. Please tell me it’s not what I think it is.”

“Well,” Reyne drawled. “If you’re thinking I no longer have the package, then yeah, it’s exactly what you’re thinking.”

Kason fell back into his seat and dropped his head into his hands. After a string of curses, he leaned back and sighed. “What happened?”

“We had a little dock check with our friends in the CUF,” Reyne said before taking a seat across from Kason. “What I’ve been trying to figure out is how they even knew about the package. The contract was a privately negotiated through Genics Corp, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. Nobody knew about the contract except for us. Genics put out a feeler for anyone who had a hauler near that sector, and I signed us up. The CUF had no reason to care about a private package, let alone have it show up on their radar.”

“Oh, they cared all right. They cared enough to divert a warship to intercept it.”

Kason’s jaw loosened as he stared at Reyne.

“Tell me what was in that crate, Kason.”

The Alluvian shrugged. “I have no idea. It was no-questions-asked contract. A simple grab-and-go.” He sighed. “But, I guess it’s out of our hands now. I’ll tell Genics that you weren’t able to reach the hauler before the star swarm hit. It’s all I can do. Best-case scenario, we don’t get paid. Worst-case scenario, they blacklist us.”

Reyne winked. “I’m sure you can sweet-talk Genics Corp into giving us another shot. After all, you’re a citizen.”

His handler chortled. “I’m an Alluvian citizen. Genics is a Myrad corporation. In case you haven’t gotten the memo, Myrads think Alluvians are beneath them.”

“Psh. They think everyone’s beneath them. At least you have your citizenship. Colonists rank lower than the mud on their boots.”

Kason smirked. “A proper Myrad would never have mud on their boots. They’d ride the backs of tenureds across anything not paved with silver.”

He chuckled and pushed to his feet. “Good point. Now, back to business. Tell me you got an after-hours pass for me. I need to get the mail dropped off.”

Kason held up a hand. “Sorry, mate. You’ll have to unload in the morning.”

“But, that’ll put me at a thirty percent penalty. I can’t break-even at that loss.”

“I know. I tried everything I could to get you in tonight, but Vym called me personally. She said in no uncertain terms that the stationhouse would not reopen for—and I quote— ‘some ne’er-do-well who thinks the rules don’t apply to him’.”

Reyne gave a crooked grin. “Sounds like she missed me.”

“I was paraphrasing.” Kason’s gaze narrowed. “You’re not thinking about talking to her tonight to get her to change her mind, are you? She’ll put your nuts into a vice just for knocking on her door at this hour.”

“I’ve got a broken ship and not nearly enough credits to fix it. Vym is the only one who can waive the penalty fee, and—if she’s in a really good mood—loan me some credits.”

“You are an idiot, Aramis Reyne.”

“Desperate,” Reyne corrected, holding up a finger. “That’s an entirely different thing than being an idiot.”

“Sounds awfully close in my book. Go right ahead. It’s your gonads. Enjoy the torture.”

“Ah, Kason. You always say the sweetest things.”

The man waved him away. “Now, shoo. I’ve got work to do before I head back home for United Day. Tell Boden if he wants me to bring anything back from Alluvia, he needs to call me before morning.”

“Will do.”

After leaving Kason’s office, Reyne took the long way back to the Gryphon to delay sharing the bad news. The bitterly cold wind seeped through any unprotected openings between his goggles and hood. Everything else was covered by his puffy, thick anorak, its length covering his entire body, all the way down over his hefty boots.

Playa was the Collective’s ice world, far from the warm twin planets of Myr and Alluvia. Without the right gear, a man could face hypothermia in fewer than five minutes standing outside in its freezing temperatures.

His goggles iced up, and he walked alongside a wall to not lose his way. What little sunlight Playa days brought was long gone. His headlamp cut through bare inches of the icy wind. A blur of tall green anorak plowed into him, and he found himself slammed against the wall.

“Watch where you’re going, fella,” Reyne said as pushed off the wall.

The eight-foot-tall stretch put his hands on his hips, indignant. “Wat you talk? Ain’t no man.”

“Oh. Sorry, ma’am. I couldn’t tell through your coat.”

She shoved past him. “Outto my way. Viggin’ out-worlda.”

“Hey, I’m no out-worlder,” he snapped back. “I’m a Playan, like you.”

She ignored him, and he watched the rail-thin stretch run into the wind. Playa’s gravity was so low that colonists who couldn’t afford gravity suits changed over the generations. Folks called them “stretches” because they grew so tall and thin. After a couple decades in Playa’s Low-G, Playan without gravity suits could never travel to another planet without their lungs collapsing and their hearts giving out under the pressure. They’d become fated to never leave their home world.

Even though Playa had been one of the only worlds to contain breathable air before colonization, humankind had to work harder and it had been more expensive to prepare the ice world to sustain life than they had on the other planets. After nearly two hundred years, there were still only three cities, the smallest population of any of the Collective planets.

Kason was one of the few citizens to have ever stepped foot onto Playa. Not one to settle down, he spread his time across the Collective worlds. The CUF were far different. They ventured out this far for one thing—workers. Being a Collective colony, the CUF could conscript any able-bodied colonist into five-year service. Stretches were excluded from service, of course, but Reyne wasn’t a stretch. He’d been drafted a week after he turned sixteen. The first time he left Playa was to serve a government he’d never seen, a government that all Playans knew that you paid with your time and money but would reap no benefit.

Collective law required only five years of service, but colonists rarely received their dismissal papers in fewer than twenty years without having connections or money. He’d served eleven years on a CUF warship as a chaser before he’d earned enough money on the side to expedite his dismissal papers.

That was a lifetime ago.

A lifetime he’d rather forget.

When the docks came into view, Reyne blew out a frosty sigh of relief. He flashed his pass-card to enter and jogged down the ramp to where the Gryphon waited. She was smaller than many haulers. Scratches and dents marred her rilon hull, which included a six-foot-long dented slice she’d acquired from the star swarm. Still, she looked good considering the life she’d had. He found an uptick in his mood as he walked up the steps to her port.

Inside, he found his crew in the commons. Doc was reading a book aloud while the others listened—Throttle in her wheelchair, Sixx on the floor with his eyes closed and hugging the biome kit he’d managed to hide from the CUF, and Boden leaning against the wall. When Reyne entered, Doc stopped reading.

Sixx sat up. “Are we getting paid tonight?”

“Still working on it.” Reyne nodded to the mechanic. “Gear up, Boden. You’re with me.”

“Where are we going?”

“We’re off to pay Vym a little visit,” Reyne replied.

He grimaced. “I hate going there. She always touches me.”

“Maybe she won’t this time.”

“I’ll go,” Sixx volunteered.

“Hell, no,” Reyne retorted. “She said she’d shoot you if you came within eyesight of her.”

“What’d he do now?” Throttle asked.

Reyne tossed a sideways glance. “He slept with Vym’s niece.”

Throttle rolled her eyes. “Smooth move, Don Juan.”

Sixx leaned back down and waved a hand in the air. “What was I to do? She threw herself at me. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.”

“She was eighteen.”

“She knew plenty for an eighteen-year-old.” Sixx pouted and blew out a breath. “It’s not like I have anywhere else to go. I had an appointment scheduled for later tonight, but unless you get me my paycheck, I’m going to have to cancel on Naughty Naomi. Too bad, too, because she is a very naughty girl.”

“Ew,” Throttle and Doc said in unison.

“You, you, and you, behave.” Reyne pointed to each crew member staying behind. “Boden and I will be back in no time. We’ll unload the cargo then.”

None of them were happy about sitting in the docks with a ship full of cargo and empty pockets. With equal parts hope and doubt, Reyne and Boden headed to Vym’s. Ice Port’s stationmaster had grown a fondness for the Alluvian mechanic the moment she met him. If anyone could help sway the old lady’s mind, it’d be Boden. For negotiations involving any other woman, Reyne would bring Sixx. Women flocked to him like mice to philoseed. But, not Vym. Most definitely not Vym.

Fortunately, the stationhouse, which was located within the fringe station’s center, was only a couple hundred meters away. Even then, the winds had doubled in intensity during the minutes Reyne had spent in the docks. The winds would continue to pick up speed throughout the night. Anyone caught outside during the four “dead hours,” as the Playans called them, would be blown into the frozen abyss. Fortunately, Reyne still had nearly three hours before then.

When the men reached the stationmaster’s office, Reyne chipped ice from the comm on the door and spoke loudly into the panel. “Aramis Reyne here to see Stationmaster Patel.”

They waited outside for several freezing seconds before the door opened and one of Vym’s overly muscular lackeys motioned them inside. “No weapons,” he mumbled in a baritone voice.

“We’re clean,” Reyne said, though between he and Boden, they had two photon guns and several knives. It was an unspoken rule on any fringe world. A colonist without weapons was either stupid or dead, with one almost always following the other. Vym had known Reyne his whole life. Hell, she’d practically raised him. She’d be disappointed in him if he showed up disarmed.

The lackey—one of Vym’s regulars—led them down a stark hallway to Vym’s office and living quarters. Unlike her fellow stationmasters on the other worlds, Vym showed no interest in luxuries. She didn’t even like anyone addressing her by her title, Stationmaster. She looked hard, spoke hard, and was an even harder negotiator.

Reyne and Boden entered to find Vym sharpening one of her many knives.

“Hello, Vym,” Reyne said.

Her response was the rough sound her blade made against the whetstone.

Reyne glanced at Boden, who shrugged.

“Kason said you had a package for me,” she said.

“His statement was a bit premature,” Reyne replied. “As said package is no longer in my possession.”

“And, just where might said package be now?”

“On a CUF warship.”

“On exactly which CUF warship?”

Reyne frowned in surprise at why she would care. “On board the Arcadia, the last I knew. It’s captained by Commandant—”

“Gabriela Heid,” she interrupted. “Yes, I’m aware of the Arcadia and her crew, Reyne. I keep myself appraised of all the Collective’s senior dromadiers.”

Vym Patel didn’t speak like a Playan. She spoke like a citizen, even though she was born on Playa. No one knew her history, but it was obvious she’d served a length time off world. Reyne had often wondered under which CUF division she’d served and in what capacity. Whatever she’d done, she must’ve left an impression. To become a stationmaster took a long reach with the Collective’s powers-to-be, a reach longer than any fringe money could buy.

“I find it bothersome,” she continued. “That I have no knowledge of whatever gift someone sent me. Tell me more.”

“I don’t have much to tell. Kason got the contract from Genics Corp. It was a Myrad cat fail in the path of a star swarm, and they needed someone to grab a package and deliver it straight to you.”

“A single package? None of its other cargo?”

He shook his head. “Just the one.”

She began honing a different blade. “What was in this package?”

He shrugged. “I have no idea. Kason doesn’t seem to know, either.”

“What did it look like?”

He held out his hands. “About this big.” When she didn’t look up, he continued. “A small metal box, each side about a half-meter.”

“Intriguing,” she said. “But, you didn’t come here to talk about my secret admirer.”

“It’s about the delivery penalty,” he began. “We docked this evening. We’re ready to unload now. Let us unload tonight. Waive the second-day penalty.”

She looked up. “You know I can’t do that. If I did that for you, every runner would ask for the same leniency. Before I know it, the runners’ union will demand no fees. Every runner will get lazy and Ice Port won’t get its deliveries on time. When we don’t get our deliveries on time, people starve. You unload in the morning, and you get a thirty percent penalty.”

Reyne swallowed. “With that penalty, I don’t break even. I need to feed my crew.”

“You also need to pay your rent and docking fees. You’re two months late on both. One more week, and I’m renting your place out to someone else.”

“Vym, come on.”

“I hear you also need to repair your ship.” She walked around her desk and straight toward Boden with a smile. He visibly tensed.

She ran her hands over his biceps before letting them drop to his hips. “Tell me, Tren. Who’s your favorite stationmaster?”

“You are, Lady Patel,” Boden replied stiffly.

She slapped his butt and smiled. “I always love how you address me as though I were a citizen.”

She took a step back and her smile faded. “But, I’m not a citizen and never will be. We’re all colonists. Just different shades of humans deemed less worthy than a privileged few because of the land on which we were born.”

She returned to her desk and took a seat. “Tren, what repairs are needed?”

Boden began counting on his fingers. “The stern has a breach. One of the nav engines is shot. The gear for the solar sails is sticking. Our air converter overheated because I had to run it at max all the way back. Those are just the critical issues, for starters.”

“Those are costly repairs and any one of them grounds you.” She looked at Reyne. “I’ve seen your bank accounts. After all, I’m your banker. You’re not going anywhere anytime soon.”

Reyne clenched his jaw shut to not snap back a retort.

She went back to sharpening her blades. “I’m feeling generous. I’ll fix your ship, Reyne. Not only that, I’ll have it ready for you in three days.”

Reyne’s eyes narrowed. “Whatever your deal is, I doubt I can afford it.”

She smirked. “We both know that you can’t afford to not accept my deal, regardless of what it is. I’m not even asking you to do anything illegal. In fact, I’m giving you and your crew the chance to help the fringe in a way you’ve always wanted.”

He cocked his head. “What’s the deal?”

“I want you to speak with someone.”

He laughed out loud. “You’ll fix the Gryphon in exchange for me to talk to someone? That’s all?”

She gave a thin smile and nodded. “That’s all.”

“Who?”

“An old friend of yours.”

“Who?”

Her smile grew wide. “Critch.”

All expression leeched from his face. “No.”

“Consider it an opportunity to reconnect with an old friend.”

He shook his head. “No, Vym. We both know I’m a dead man the second I walk through his door.”

She shook her head. “You are kindred spirits. You’ve both always been after the same thing. You remember what that is, don’t you?”

Reyne swallowed. “I remember, but Critch also wants me dead. I guaran-damn-tee I don’t see eye-to-eye with him on that.”

She smiled. “Trust me.” Then she shrugged. “Or, don’t trust me. But, if you want your ship repaired, you’ll take the deal.”

Reyne looked at Boden, who was watching him with an inquisitive expression. Without Vym, he couldn’t get a loan on Playa. If he couldn’t get the Gryphon repaired, they couldn’t make deliveries. Boden, Sixx, and Doc could possibly find new jobs, but Throttle didn’t stand a chance. No one would hire her with her disability.

He gave Vym a hard look. “If I don’t make it back, I need your word that my crew will be taken care of.”

“Always,” she said without hesitation.

“You’ve got yourself a deal.” Reyne turned abruptly and strode from Vym’s office, with Boden’s heavy boot steps behind him.

After twenty years, he thought he’d finally put the Uprising behind him.

He was wrong.

Chapter Six

Dangerous Discoveries

Three days later, the Gryphon climbed broke free of Playa’s atmosphere and cruised into the smooth blackness of space, the only place Reyne felt some semblance of peace. Only now, their latest run weighed heavily on his mind.

“I can’t believe we’re going to the Space Coast,” Throttle said, unable to hide the excitement in her voice. “I’ve never been in a real asteroid belt before. Is it as dangerous as they say?”

He reigned himself back in from his thoughts. “Worse, and it’s not because of the asteroids,” Reyne answered. “The rocks move slowly. They’re easy to miss. The danger with asteroid belts is what they can hide. Once you enter the Coast, you have to keep one eye on the lookout for asteroids and the other eye on the lookout for pirates.”

She rubbed her hands together. “I can handle that.”

Reyne smiled. “I know you can, but rest up. I want you at the top of your game when we enter the Coast. There’s a reason even the CUF won’t dare go near there.”

“The ship’s running better than ever,” Throttle said. “Flight plan shows we’ll reach Nova Colony in twenty-six hours.”

“Good,” Reyne said, unbuckling from his seat and crossing the bridge. “I want to get this deal over with. Keep running diagnostics. Vym didn’t repair the Gryphon out of the goodness of her heart. She has something up her sleeve.”

He headed down the hallway to the commons to find Boden, Doc, and Sixx snacking from a bowl of raisins.

“Taking a break already?” Reyne asked.

“We’ve searched the ship,” Sixx said. “We didn’t find anything.”

Reyne rubbed his neck. “There’s no way Vym fixed the ship without leaving her grubby prints somewhere on it. Keep searching.”

“We were thorough,” Doc said. “If she’s smuggling something, we’re not going to find it without taking the ship apart piece by piece.”

Reyne grabbed a handful of raisins from the bowl.

Sixx popped a raisin in his mouth. “So, boss, who’s this mysterious contact Vym is having you meet?”

“Some man by the name of Critch,” Boden offered.

Reyne glared at Boden, but it was too late. By the look of Doc’s blanched face, she unfortunately remembered that name all too well.

“We’re going to Nova Colony to see Critch?” she asked softly.

“No, we’re going to Nova Colony, where I’m going to see Critch. You’re staying on the ship,” Reyne replied.

“That’s a suicide mission,” she countered.

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Reyne chewed on his raisins.

“Who’s Critch?” Sixx asked.

“He’s a pirate,” Doc said, narrowing her eyes. “A very dangerous pirate.”

“Psh,” Sixx said. “Pirates are overrated.”

“He captains the Honorless,” she added.

“Oh.” Sixx’s eyes widened, and he turned to Reyne. “Doc’s right. It’s a suicide mission. Why aren’t we running the other way?”

Finding his stomach suddenly without appetite, Reyne threw his remaining raisins back into the bowl. As he strode from the commons, he heard Doc begin a story he had no desire to hear again.

“Critch is more than a pirate,” Doc continued. “You know the story that Reyne was one of the two torrents marshals at the Siege of Terra during the Uprising. You’ve also all heard how Reyne disappeared just before the Battle of Broken Mountain, leaving behind an inexperienced marshal half his age?”

“Of course,” Sixx said. “Everyone’s heard that tale, but anyone who’s ever met Reyne would never believe it for a minute.”

“Critch was that other marshal.”

Reyne picked up his pace back to the bridge so that he couldn’t hear the crew’s conversation.

“Hey,” Throttle said. “I was just going to ping you.”

He headed toward her, relieved for the distraction. “What’d you find?”

“I don’t know yet, but Vym has definitely put something else on the ship. I’ve been running the numbers against our power usage. The weight-and-balance numbers are different.”

He frowned. “How much off are we?”

“It’s significant. If I’m reading this right, we’re carrying a few hundred extra kilograms.”

“Show me.”

Her fingers flew over the instrument panel, until the list of weight-and-balance calculations were brought to the forefront. He ran his finger down each line item until he came to the variance.

“Four hundred and twenty-nine kilos. It can’t be.” A shiver climbed his spine and he found himself light-headed. He grabbed ahold the edge of the panel.

“What is it?” Throttle asked.

He took a deep breath. “The Gryphon used to weigh a bit more in her early days. Four hundred and twenty-nine extra kilos, to be exact.”

He had to see the truth for himself. He hustled to his seat and ran through the menus.

“Reyne?”

He watched as a series of green lights came to life. Lines of text began to scroll.

“Reyne, seriously. What the hell’s going on?”

He pointed in her direction without turning to her. “Watch your mouth.”

She let out an exasperated sigh, but he didn’t look up. He read the text over and over before he believed it wasn’t some error.

“That can’t be right.”

Reyne jerked up to find Throttle rolled up next to him and reading the screen.

She pointed to the text. “Tell me that can’t be right.”

Reyne read through the seven lines one more time.

Phase Cannon: Operational and Armed.

Photon Gun One: Operational and Armed.

Photon Gun Two: Operational and Armed.

Photon Gun Three: Operational and Armed.

Photon Gun Four: Operational and Armed.

Photon Gun Five: Operational and Armed.

Photon Gun Six: Operational and Armed.

“Why would Vym arm the Gryphon?” Throttle asked.

“My guess? She’s pulling us into her torrent shenanigans, whether we volunteer or not.”

After a moment, Throttle’s lips curled upward. “It’s about time.”

Chapter Seven

The Trouble with Pirates

Reyne woke the following morning with a hard reminder that with whiskey came hangovers. He still had all the memories he’d attempted to drown, except now he had a hell of a pounding headache.

He carefully lifted the arm stretched across his chest and climbed out of bed. Doc mumbled something incoherent before rolling onto her other side. He didn’t need to dress since he hadn’t bothered to undress last night. He buckled his pants and stumbled from his quarters. He headed to the commons, where he went straight for a juice bag and chugged the entire contents.

“Rough night?”

Reyne looked around to find Sixx eating breakfast, realizing the other man must’ve been sitting there the entire time. Reyne tossed the empty bag and grabbed a second juice bag before pulling out a chair and plopping down.

“Throttle told me about our upgrades.” Sixx whistled. “That’s some serious armament. Any theories?”

“Working on it.”

“Hopefully, we don’t run into a CUF cruiser. They’ll be in for one hell of a surprise when they scan us. We’ll spend the rest of our about-to-become incredibly short lives in the Citadel.”

Reyne shook his head slowly, wincing at the movement. “The Gryphon may be a hauler now, but she’s got the heart of a gunship. Her hull’s been reinforced with rilon, with a couple extra layers covering the gun bays. No ramp scan would pick them up, and Vym knows this.”

“Well, aren’t we lucky.”

Reyne grunted. “Now, if the CUF did a manual search of the gun bays—”

“We’d be fucked,” Sixx finished.

“Yeah, we’d be fucked.”

With a sigh, he pushed to his feet. Now that he could string together semi-rational thoughts through the sledge hammer pounding a staccato rhythm in his brain, he headed toward the bridge. It was empty. Throttle would still be in bed after they spent most of the night hailing Ice Port. To no surprise, Vym hadn’t responded to any of his pings.

The old woman wasn’t dumb. She had to have known that they’d find the weapons. Why hadn’t she said something back on Ice Port? More importantly, what the hell was she planning?

A bell chimed, and Reyne checked the new notification. He tapped Throttle’s comm. “Get up here if you want to fly through an asteroid belt.”

She grumbled, “Coming.”

Moments later, she wheeled onto the bridge, her eyes still half-closed, and locked in at her panel.

He watched her. “You sure you up to this?”

She yawned and stretched. “Oh yeah. Definitely.” She pulled her mussed up hair into a ponytail before turning her focus to the instruments. She cracked her knuckles. “All right. Switching to manual controls. Maintain speed until we hit the edge of the Coast. Then, we’ll drop down to half-speed to avoid any big, ugly rocks.”

“And pirates,” Reyne added, but she was already in her own world.

He grabbed the comm and announced to the ship, “We’re coming up on the Space Coast in ten minutes. Everyone, lock down anything that can be locked down and strap in. Get ready for a bumpy ride.”

In an asteroid belt, the larger rocks were easy to avoid. It was the tiny rocks—called mosquitoes—that wreaked havoc on hulls. Throttle’s jagged flight plan appeared on Reyne’s screen, and he began running scans for bogeys along the grid.

“I’m pulling in the solar sails now, and switching on the Flux,” she announced.

A moment later, Reyne felt the ship slow down.

“I’m starting the run-up sequence for the jump shields,” she continued.

When Throttle was a little girl and had first started taking the controls of the Gryphon, Reyne made her talk through every single thing she needed to do to pilot the ship to help her learn. It was a habit she’d never given up. Thankfully, she no longer voiced each and every keystroke and thought that she used to be so keen on doing.

“Jump shields are active at one hundred percent,” she said before adding, “Bring on the rocks.”

The Space Coast filled the view screen, a majestic expanse that was both awe-striking and ominous. Reyne found it surreal—a three-dimensional black beach of rocks, some large enough to hold the entire CUF fleet, while others small pebbles. The belt moved slowly, one would have to watch the rocks for some time to discern any hint of movement. But, the devils would sneak up on a pilot if he wasn’t paying attention.

The Space Coast was a dangerous beauty.

It’d been too long since he was out here. When he returned from CUF service, he came out here all the time. He’d honed his skills on the Coast, constantly pushing himself to fly faster and turn harder as he made the annual Coastal Run. He never won, but he always placed in the top ten, and—more importantly—he always survived.

Seeing the Coast made Reyne regret that he’d been too protective of Throttle. She would love flying the Coastal Run. Unlike him, she’d win.

An alarm beeped, warning them they’d broken the Space Coast barrier. Autopilot would no longer be available because the Coastal grid was constantly changing, not that Throttle would ever dream of using autopilot here.

“Looks like I’m just in time.”

Reyne turned around to Sixx sit down and strap in. “Damn, the Coast sure is a sight. It’s been too long, Reyne.”

“Yeah.” Reyne’s nostalgia disappeared when the Gryphon veered a hard left. With his attention back on the view panel, he watched as Throttle maneuvered around a cluster of mid-sized rocks, making sharp turns…on purpose.”

Reyne’s eyes widened as brown rock became a bulls-eye on the view panel. “Throttle, I assume you see the ship-killer at our twelve o’clock.”

“Relax, I’ve got it,” she said before banking right and narrowly missing the boulder.

“Cutting it a little close, are we?” Sixx asked.

Throttle grinned.

The rocks became fewer and larger, and Reyne relaxed in his seat and began to zoom in on the larger rocks.

“Hm,” Throttle said.

Reyne looked up. “What’s wrong?”

“This is nothing compared to outrunning a star swarm,” she replied.

“Think of it this way, T,” Sixx began. “The life expectancy of a pilot in a swarm is about eight point two seconds. Compare that to the Coast where some folks choose to live. So yeah, the two nothing alike.”

Her shoulders slumped. “I know, but I didn’t expect flying the Coast to be so boring.”

“Boring is good when it comes to flying,” Reyne said. “It’s the high-adrenaline moments when a pilot has to worry.”

She straightened. “Ooh, I have an idea. Can we try out the phase cannon on a few rocks?”

“I think firing the phase cannon is a great idea,” Sixx said.

“No,” Reyne answered.

“How about the proton guns?” she asked.

“I think firing the proton guns is a great idea,” Sixx said.

“No.” Reyne pointed at Sixx. “And, you’re not helping.”

“Old guy’s a real party pooper,” Sixx grumbled.

“I’m not old,” Reyne defended.

Throttle chortled. “You walk like an old guy.”

“It’s called arthritis. You better be careful. Young space jockeys can get it, too.”

Sixx joined in. “Keep telling yourself that, old guy.”

As Sixx and Throttle continued with the banter, Reyne focused on his panel. His eyes narrowed on a large rock in their path. He zoomed in as far as the camera would go, to where the image became pixelated. The rock was dark, nearly pure black, with specks of brown pockmarking its surface. At its edge, something the color of dark gray peeked out. The color of rilon.

“Throttle, you might get that excitement you were looking for,” he said.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“We have a tail,” he announced. “But, I can’t get an ID.”

“Where?” Sixx asked. His seat buckle clinked as the man hustled to peer over Reyne’s shoulder.

“I’m marking the rock in quadrant one-seven-four,” Reyne said.

“Firing the phase cannon is sounding better every minute,” Sixx said.

He glanced back at Sixx. “Let’s hope it doesn’t have to come to that.” He returned to his console. “The bogey hasn’t moved, and sensors show no sign of their engines firing up.”

“Maybe they haven’t seen us,” Throttle offered.

Sixx chuckled. “You’re one hell of an optimist.”

“Shut off all nav lights,” Reyne commanded. “In the off-chance your optimism turns out to be reality, we don’t need to be lit up like a Spaten whore.”

Reyne clenched the comm in his hand and broadcasted his next words to the entire crew. “Heads up, everyone. Seems we have a player waiting on the sidelines who might try jump into the game.”

He turned to Throttle. “We’ve got a Flux Whisper. Chances are, they don’t have anything near that caliber. Problem is, we don’t know the Coast like the back of our hands, and I’d lay bets that they do. If they try to take us, do you want to try to outrun them? It’s your call.”

“Hell yes,” she replied far too quickly.

“Okay, then. It’s your party. We’ll cover you.” He nodded toward Sixx. “You take the forward guns. I’ll take the aft.”

“Aye, aye, boss,” Sixx said and buckled back into his seat.

“You won’t need the guns,” Throttle said with confidence.

“Let’s hope,” he cautioned as he opened the weapons console. “Give them a wide berth, Throttle. Make it clear we know they’re out there.”

“Wilco,” she said.

Tension built up within Reyne’s shoulders as they closed the distance. He didn’t take his eyes off the bogey. “The scans haven’t picked up any signs of it powering up yet.”

Throttle angled the Gryphon to place mid-sized rock between the two ships.

He held his breath as they passed the bogey. “Still no change.”

As soon as they were past the ship, its engine flared to life, and it shot out from its cover.

“He’s out and on our ass,” Reyne called out. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves some pirates. Find us some distance, Throttle.”

The Gryphon’s engine set the entire ship in a teeth-rattling humming vibration. The next instant, Reyne found himself pressed against the back of his seat. He opened the gun bays, and started sighting in each of the aft proton guns.

Throttle took the ship in aggressive twists and sharp turns, nearly skimming rocks. As expected, the pirate ship didn’t have the speed of the Gryphon, and the distance grew between them. Reyne lost visual with the bogey when Throttle banked around a large rock.

“I think we lost them,” she said.

Just then, a larger ship popped out from a cavern within the rock directly in front of them, and shot out an EMP net.

“Shit!” Throttle yanked the ship at a hard angle to avoid the net.

“It’s a tag team,” Reyne started. “Sixx!”

“Got ‘em.” Sixx fired off bursts from his proton guns.

The first ship somehow managed to catch up and was tailing them again. Without taking time for automated targeting, Reyne manually fired at it.

“I clipped him,” Sixx exclaimed. “Big bird’s heading off. Doesn’t look like he wants to play with us.”

Reyne watched his target slow down and peel away. “Other bogey is bugging out.”

He scanned the quadrants, finding nothing but the two departing ships. “Everything looks clear, but keep your eyes peeled.”

After closing up the gun bays, Reyne turned to Throttle. “Was that exciting enough for you?

She tried not to smile, but then broke into a wide grin. “That was crazy. But, seriously, who would live out here if they had to fly past that every time?”

Reyne looked at the Coast before them. “Pirates don’t attack their own. I’m guessing this pair was the welcome party, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they were out here waiting specifically for us. I should warn you. I’m not the most popular guy out here.”

“They’re idiots then,” she said.

His console chimed, and he let out a deep breath. He broadcasted his words to the entire crew so that Doc and Boden would also hear. “We’re coming up on Nova Colony. Prepare for landing.”

Throttle contacted the port control and initiated the approach and landing sequence, switching from the powerful Flux engine to the two small navigational engines. Reyne watched as they approached the asteroid known as Nova Colony. From space, it looked like any other gargantuan asteroid. No lights or manmade architecture dotted its surface, as asteroids tended to be pelted regularly by rock showers.

Sometime in Nova Colony’s distant history, the asteroid had an abundance of frozen water that hollowed out a maze of underground caverns. Those now-empty caverns made perfect shelters, the only official settlement on the Space Coast. Even then, Nova Colony sat outside Collective control.

Life on Nova Colony wasn’t easy. Inhabited by pirates, convicts, and anyone else who desired to live outside Collective oversight, its residents weren’t exactly friendly to newcomers. Nova Colony had its own police, but even they were as likely to kill you rather than help you.

As Throttle lowered the Gryphon into the wide cavern leading to the landing docks, apprehension tightened Reyne’s already tense shoulders. There were ten thousand reasons why he avoided coming here, and he began to have more doubts about taking Vym’s deal.

The ship settled into a landing slot, and magnetized mooring cables shot out and attached to the Gryphon to secure it into place. The engines powered down, and Reyne jumped from his seat, anxious to put this mess behind him.

“That was an interesting ride,” Doc said as she and Boden strolled onto the bridge.

“Listen up,” Reyne said. “No one leaves the ship. That includes you, too, Sixx.”

“Like hell. I’m not letting you go into that viper’s nest alone,” Sixx said. “Besides, they have the best beer in the system.”

Reyne’s hard expression quelled any more dissent. “I need you all here to guard the ship. And that includes you, Sixx. This place is the worst place in the system for shipjackings. And, we just gave away the Gryphon’s secret, which makes her a hot commodity. Don’t trust anyone and don’t let anyone except me on board, especially anyone who looks official. If I’m not back in three hours, you leave. Got it?”

“We’re not leaving you,” Throttle said.

“You won’t be. If I’m not back, I’m already dead.”

Throttle sobered.

“That’s why I need to come with you,” Sixx said with no hint of humor.

Reyne shook his head. “If they want to kill me, it’s not going to make a lick of difference if I’m alone or if I have an army with me. Anyone with me would be just as dead.”

“Maybe, but I’ll sure as hell take out a few before I go.”

“I know you would, but I need you here, with Throttle and the rest of the crew.” Reyne attempted a smile. “Hey Throttle, it’s not so bad. If I don’t make it back, the Gryphon’s yours.”

She sneered. “Oh. If that’s the case, enjoy yourself out there.”

He sobered. “Okay then. See you by…” He checked the panel.

“Thirteen-twenty,” Throttle said before he could speak.

“Thirteen-twenty,” he repeated and then rushed from the bridge so he didn’t have to see the hurt in Throttle’s eyes.

He headed straight for the pressurization chamber and hustled into his suit. Just as he was about to open the airlock, he heard Throttle’s voice in his speakers.

“Hey, Reyne.”

“Yeah?”

Throttle’s tone was dead serious. “Promise me you’re coming back.”

He flipped off his speakers. He didn’t respond. On her tenth birthday, he had no gift. Instead, he promised her that he would never, ever lie to her. And, he’d kept his word, which meant he couldn’t make her this new promise. He swallowed, opened the airlock and pushed himself out of the safety of his ship and grabbed onto one of the many zip lines strung across the docks.

He pulled himself down to the motorized handle, which then zoomed him into the furthest interior of the dock, just outside Nova Colony’s airlock. He hit a switch on the wall, and a second later it turned green. The door opened and he entered, where he immediately felt the increased gravity, bolstered by EM fields, similar to what the Gryphon used while in space. A moment after the door behind him closed, a screen flashed the words Pressurization Complete. Welcome to Nova Colony. Obey all Coastal laws or forfeit your life.

Reyne tugged off his helmet and crossed through the internal door. Once inside, the caverns smelled of human sweat and sounded like bustling activity. There was no atmosphere on Nova Colony, requiring the caverns to be tightly sealed and a large system constantly recycling air. It didn’t smell pleasant, but there were far worse smells in the universe.

Everyone stared. He fought the urge to touch his proton gun. Taking a deep breath, he began walking. It took him several long steps before he found his stride in the heavier gravity. Several more steps, and he reached his destination. A neon sign that read UNEVEN BAR flashed above its door. The sign was askew, fitting for its namesake. The bar was the first commercial establishment in Nova Colony, having been built even before the EM fields were in place. Everyone who’d ever passed through the Space Coast ended up at this bar as some point or another.

Reyne entered the bar to find it hadn’t changed much. It was still dark and dirty and reeked of alcohol and sex. The tables were filled, like they’d be filled every hour of every day. The only change was that the bar was completely silent and everyone was watching him.

He could cut the tension with the knife he had strapped on his boot. He found it surprising he was still alive considering how many faces he recognized. Especially knowing that every single one of them wanted him dead.

Yet, he was still alive. Hell, maybe his luck was changing.

A man who’d been sitting at the bar turned and stood to face Reyne.

Like the bar, the man had changed startlingly little. He still had scars covering his face, still had the same brown hair, though the streaks of gray were new.

“Hello, Critch,” Reyne said.

A smile tugged at the corners of Critch’s mouth.

Reyne’s eyes widened. He spun around but was too late. Blinding pain erupted in the back of his head. He fell as blackness claimed him.

Chapter Eight

A Hazardous Proposition

Reyne came awake with his head throbbing twice as hard as it had that morning. “Son of a bitch, that hurts.” He gingerly touched the back of his head.

“I’m surprised you showed up.”

Reyne cracked open his eyes to find two Critches standing in front of him. Critch solidified into a single man as Reyne’s eyes came into focus. He hadn’t seen the pirate in twenty years, but he’d seen his picture on the news plenty—each time, the bounty higher than the last. “And miss the chance to see your ugly mug again? Not a chance.” He continued. “I never would’ve taken you for a nostalgic man, but the Uneven Bar? Choosing to meet at the place we first met makes me feel all warm and tingly inside.”

Critch grunted. “I didn’t want to make it too hard for you to find, especially considering you don’t come out this way anymore.”

“Knowing that damn near everyone on the Coast wants me dead tends to put a damper on my travel plans.” Reyne looked the room over. They were alone, but he didn’t miss that the familiar weight of his gun and knives was absent.

“Not true. Everyone on the Coast wants you dead.”

“I see you still have that silver tongue of yours.”

“And, I see you’re still damn lucky to have that head of yours,” Critch said.

“’Luck’ is not the word that comes to mind with the pounding headache I have right now. Oh, and thanks for the welcome committee out on the Coast. That was real nice of you.”

“You’re still alive, aren’t you?” Critch smirked, a crooked tug of his lips that in no way resembled humor. When he scowled, you didn’t have much to worry about. When he smiled, you were fucked.

“Tell me, buddy. You invite me all the way out here just to catch up on old times?”

“You’re the last man I want to converse with. I may be a pirate, but I’ve never been a traitor.”

“That makes two of us.” Reyne gritted his teeth. “I’d tell you I had nothing to do with what happened at Broken Mountain, but I’m guessing you wouldn’t care.”

“Damn straight.” Critch leveled a hard gaze at Reyne.

This Critch had colder eyes than the young man Reyne remembered, but his face had otherwise remained unchanged. He still had the familiar scars crisscrossing his cheeks. Reyne was there when the pirate got those scars. They’d been searching for survivors after a particularly bloody battle during the Uprising, and an unexploded grenade went off. Critch had still been a fresh recruit under Reyne’s command then, twenty years old, headstrong, and full of passion.

Reyne gingerly touched the bump on his head. “I think I liked you better back when you were Drake Fender.”

“Well, not all of us marshals were able to have our torrent records cleared, like you. When there’s a death sentence tied with your name, you’re best to start over.”

“From what I hear, you’ve earned several more death sentences with the new name.”

He shrugged.

“Well, speaking of death sentences,” Reyne said, holding out his hands. “I’m still breathing, which means you need me alive, at least for now. Why don’t you tell me what the hell I’m doing here?”

The pirate gave Reyne his back as he walked over to a table and poured himself a glass from a decanter worth more credits than what most colonists made in a year, including Reyne.

“For the record, Vym wanted to bring you in,” Critch began. “Not me.”

“You know, I promised Vym I’d come out here and meet you. I did that. You don’t want me here, so how about I make it easy for you.” Reyne pushed to his feet, and started heading toward the door. “See you around. Though, hopefully not this lifetime.”

He heard a glass set onto a table, and he prepared for an attack.

Instead of attacking Reyne from behind Critch said simply, “The Uprising isn’t over.”

Reyne turned slowly around to face the other man. “The Uprising ended twenty years ago. It’s over.”

Critch shook his head. “The battles that took place there may be over, but the spirit of the Uprising, the need for an Uprising, is stronger than ever.”

Reyne’s brows rose. “You’re thinking about starting a full-out Uprising again? Then, you’ll get yourself killed along with every fool who follows you. The CUF is stronger than they were when we led the first Uprising. Myr and Alluvia will squash any rebellion—”

“You’re wrong. Relations between Myr and Alluvia are cracking, and they’re using the fringe as pawns in their power games.”

Reyne brushed the air. “Nothing’s changed. They’ve always used us as pawns.”

“Not like this. Vym believes Myr is making a move to seize control of all the fringe stations.”

The runner chortled. “That’s impossible. The CUF would never let that happen.”

“The CUF is splitting apart from the inside. There are now all-Alluvian and all-Myrad warships out there. We’re on the road to another War. Only this time around, there are colonies in the mix. Imagine what would happen if Myr managed to gain control of all the fringe stations.”

“They’d have control over all space ports in the fringe,” Reyne said.

“Meaning…”

“Meaning they would own anything going to or coming from a fringe planet,” Reyne finished.

Critch nodded. “If they take control of our space ports, the colonists are out of this fight before we even have a chance to throw a punch.”

“Myr may be powerful, but fringe stations are large cities. Myr would have a rebellion on their hands at the first station they made a play for.”

“Not if all the colonists there are already dead.”

Reyne sobered. “They’d never go that far.”

“You underestimate the situation. If Myr and Alluvia relations collapse, we all know where the battlefields will be.”

“On the colonies.” Reyne eyed Critch a long moment before he frowned. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because, Vym wants you to join the cause.”

“What?” He almost choked on the word.

“That was my first reaction, too,” Critch said drily. “Somehow, you’ve conned her into trusting you. That don’t mean shit to me, but she made a valid argument. Out of every runner in the fringe, you are the only captain who could go anywhere, anytime, without suspicion. You can run all four fringe stations and the Coast and the CUF would never bat an eye. All my crews are on watch lists, but no one would ever suspect the traitor of Terra to have any involvement in a new Uprising.”

“How reassuring,” Reyne said with a hefty hint of sarcasm in his voice.

“It’s not my job to hand out hugs.”

“Tell me, exactly what is your job? Because Vym could’ve told me everything you just did. What am I doing here?”

Critch took a drink. “We’re laying the groundwork for the Uprising from here. Right now, I need runners to transport recruiters from the Coast to the colonies.”

“The Gryphon’s not designed to be a passenger ship. Besides, I have contracts on the books that I can’t just drop.”

“Not anymore. Vym is having Kason reassign any contracts you have on the books and set up new contracts as we speak.”

“It’s taken me years to build those relationships.” The upgrades Vym made to the Gryphon was beginning to make sense, and Reyne wasn’t the tiniest bit happy about her scheming. He shot Critch a hard eye. “Without contracts, how am I going to feed my crew?”

“Vym will cover your crew’s expenses through new contracts. Everything we’re doing will look legit in case the CUF gets curious.”

Reyne paced the room as he thought through his options. His jaw tightened. “Vym sent me here to talk with you in case I said no, and she didn’t want to have to deal with me.”

Critch shook his head. “Contrary to popular belief, pirates don’t kill everyone they meet, though I’d consider an exception in your case.”

Reyne growled at the pirate. “Watch yourself, pirate.”

“I have crews and employees all over the fringe. If I wanted you dead, you don’t think I could’ve had your throat slit in your sleep?”

“You could try.”

“You’re here because we need a fast runner, and we need a captain who can get into places without questions. We’ve got recruiters ready to ship out. I need to know if you and your crew is in or out. You just need to know that as soon as any of them choose to make the first run with you, they’re all torrents. There’s no going back.”

Reyne clenched his fists. “You don’t even think about hurting my crew.”

“Then, make a choice. They’re safe right now. No harm will come to them. If you’d like to keep any of them out of this arrangement for good, now’s the time. But, once they’re in, they’re in.” Critch held up a finger. “All the colonies are at risk if this Uprising fails. So, I warn you, if I get even a hint of you doing anything stupid, like running out to tell the CUF about our plans, none of your crew is safe. Not even your adopted daughter.”

Reyne breathed in and exhaled slowly. “I wonder what a direct phase cannon blast would do to Nova Colony. That’s exactly what will happen if you threaten me or my crew again.”

“You’d kill every person in this place? Women, children, and families?”

Reyne smirked. “I’m the traitor of Terra, remember?”

Critch’s lips thinned and his eyes narrowed.

“Or,” Reyne drawled out. “We can save a whole lot of headache on both sides and quit fucking around and work together through trust rather than through threats.”

Critch gave a tight nod.

“When is this first run?”

After a long moment of silence, the pirate tossed him a comm. “I’ll call you once they get packed and ready. Until then, you and your crew can enjoy everything Nova Colony has to offer. My treat. One more thing.” Critch opened a locked drawer in his desk and counted out several chains. He walked over and dropped the rilon chains in Reyne’s hand.

He held one up to examine the black chain with a single teardrop lump of rilon hanging from the end. “What are these?”

“Every torrent gets one to identify those loyal to the cause. It’s your access pass into any torrent base or safe house. There are enough there for your entire crew, should they all join up.” He wagged a finger. “But, don’t invite them in unless you know they’ll join. We can’t afford rumors of an Uprising raising the CUF’s suspicion now.”

Reyne pocketed the other chains and slid one over his head. Made of rilon, it was nearly weightless and long, making it easy to conceal. Strangely, it felt like a shield and a noose at the same time.

He strolled over to the table and poured himself a glass. He held it up in Critch’s direction. “Here’s to the Uprising. Again.”

Chapter Nine

Shadowed Secrets

Heid

Heid guided Sebin off the busy sidewalk and into the dark alley.

Her adjutant threw a furtive glance over his shoulder at the commotion of the city they were leaving behind. “Where are we going?”

She smiled. “You’ll see soon enough.”

They had to walk around a dumpster before the door came into view.

Very few Alluvians knew of the pub with no name at the end of the alley. Even fewer knew the role it played in shaping the Collective—both past and future. Heid hadn’t yet joined the CUF when her father brought her here for the first time, a girl of barely fifteen years. Up until that moment, her father had overseen her training, like his father had done before him. She remembered every vivid detail of the alley and the pub, just as Sebin was taking in now.

After all, that night had changed everything for her.

She led Sebin into the dingy establishment. The pub smelled of fermented hops and long since outlawed cigars. Any proper citizen would turn around at the door and leave, which made the pub all the safer for the Founders’ activities. Inside, the tables and barstools sat empty like lonely customers to the jukebox as it crooned soulful songs. The only person in the bar was the bartender, who glanced up from washing glasses. The man, a Founder known simply as the Bartender, gave the smallest nod to Heid, and she returned the gesture with the slightest smile.

“This way.” She motioned Sebin to follow her past the bar and down a dark hallway, where she continued past the bathrooms until they reached the end. On the wall hung an oil painting. It was classic Alluvian artwork, portraying a schooner caught on a wave in a torrential storm.

Giving the painting little notice, she slid her hand behind the frame and felt the wall until she brushed the fingerprint-scanner hidden within the wall. The technology was ancient but fool-proof. When the lock clicked, she stepped back and let go of the painting.

She pressed her hands against the wall and pushed forward, revealing open space behind. She glanced back at Sebin to see his eyes wide and jaw lax. She squeezed his hand. “Don’t worry. We’re nearly there.”

He didn’t let go for a long moment. When he did, he took a tentative first step through the wall space, and Heid followed. She pushed the wall back into place, not turning away until the locks clicked.

Dim lights came on with each step to illuminate their way. There were one-hundred-forty-five steps. Heid had counted them once. They were so far below the water table that they were deep into the planet’s bedrock. The original Founders had built this facility for secrecy and seclusion not long after First City was colonized. A battle could be waged down here, and no sensors on the surface would pick up any hint of a sound or vibration.

They reached the final step to find a group of three Founders waiting for them.

The man in the center spoke. “Sebin Reinhardt, I am Mason. We are the Three Founders who oversee all Founders. We have been looking forward to your initiation. Since I represent the Alluvian branch, I’ve been especially looking forward to meeting you and adding you to my branch.”

Sebin froze and glanced back at Heid. He mouthed Mason, and she nodded. He shook the man’s hand. “It’s an honor, sir, truly.”

Mason then looked at Heid. “It’s been far too long, Baker.”

Heid forced a smile. “Yes, it has.”

Mason turned his attention back to Sebin. “Sebin Reinhardt, you have been in Founder training for seven years. You have progressed from neophyte to accolade. Now, it is time for you to become a Founder. Are you ready?”

Sebin straightened. “I am ready.”

Mason regarded Heid. “Baker, do you vouch for this candidate?”

She stepped behind Sebin. “I do.”

“Remove your shirt, candidate.” Mason said.

Sebin obeyed without question and dropped the clothing to the damp floor.

Mason motioned to the two with him, and the three formed a semi-circle around Sebin. “Sebin Reinhardt, you have been deemed worthy. Once you are marked as a member, the name Sebin Reinhardt will never exist on the tongues of Founders. To the worlds, you remain Sebin Reinhardt, but to the Founders, you will be Painter.”

Mason grabbed Sebin’s left arm. He then held up a small metal device. “I, Mason of Alluvia, hereby induct you, Sebin Reinhardt, into the Order of the Collective Founders as Painter. Your role will be to bring to life the Founders’ plans, using the Collective as your canvas. Do you accept this role?”

“I accept,” Sebin replied quickly.

With that, Mason lifted Sebin’s arm. “Then I anoint you Painter.” He pressed the metal device against the upper inner part of Sebin’s bicep, and the skin sizzled. Sebin winced but didn’t pull away.

Mason stepped back and handed the branding iron to the woman to his right. She stepped forward and took Sebin’s arm in her hand. “I, Mariner of Myr, anoint you Painter.” She pressed the iron near the spot Mason has branded seconds earlier.

Sebin’s skin sizzled again, and this time he let out a hiss before clamping his mouth shut. When she finished, Mariner handed the iron to the man to Mason’s left who stepped forward and grabbed Sebin’s arm. “I, Aeronaut of the colonies, anoint you Painter.” He branded Sebin a third time.

Aeronaut stepped back, and Mason spoke. “Painter, what are you?”

Sebin held his head high, and he began to chant.

I am a raindrop in a storm.

I am a bubble in a waterfall.

I am a tear in the eversea.

I am water.

I am a Founder.

Everyone chanted the second verse together.

We are the storm.

We are the waterfall.

We are the eversea.

We are the Founders.

We are the free.

Mason clicked his boots together. “For the free.”

Everyone clicked their boots in response. “For the Founders.”

Heid touched Sebin’s shoulder. “Welcome, Painter.”

Sebin spun around and embraced her. He grinned widely, and stepped back to examine his brands. Three runes stood bright white on reddened skin. Each mark represented an equal branch of the Founders—towers for Alluvia, waves for Myr, and wings for the colonies.

“No one except a Founder can ever lay their eyes on those brands, do you understand? No woman you sleep with, no men in the baths, no one,” Heid warned him.

He gave her a sly grin. “I understand.”

“Baker is right,” Mason said. “We must operate in total secrecy if we have any hope of preserving the Collective. Our work isn’t easy, but it’s necessary.”

Sebin nodded. “To all the worlds, we must not exist or else we’ll fail.”

Heid found herself filled with pride. “Now, let’s go upstairs and celebrate.”

Chapter Ten

Building a Rebellion

“What do you mean, ‘we’re not leaving the Coast’?” Throttle asked. “Two hours ago, you couldn’t wait to leave.”

“Change of plans. We’ve got to talk,” Reyne said and plopped down on a seat in the commons. He looked around. “Where’s Sixx?”

Throttle frowned. “He…”

“He stepped out to see someone,” Doc said. “He said he’d be back before thirteen-twenty.”

Reyne muttered a string of curses.

“Speak of the devil,” Boden said as he lounged in his chair across the table from Reyne.

Reyne turned to see Sixx walk in. Reyne kicked out of his chair and pointed. “You can’t keep it in your pants long enough to make sure we don’t get robbed or worse?”

Sixx scowled. “I had to see someone. It won’t happen again.”

“Damn it, Sixx. If something had happened, it’d be on you.”

Sixx held up his hands in defeat. “I know, I know. I’m sorry. I made a mistake.”

Reyne froze. “What’s up? You never apologize.”

Sixx walked in and grabbed a drink. “I heard a rumor that Qelle was here.”

Reyne’s jaw dropped. “Your wife?”

Boden frowned. “I thought she was dead.”

“She is,” Reyne said. “Or, at least she’s believed to be. She was on a CUF hauler when it went off-grid. Neither that ship nor any of its crew has ever been found. Sixx, she’s gone.”

“I know,” he said quietly. He pulled out his comm. “Kason still runs searches across all video channels for me. He sent me a feed from Nova Colony’s hallways. It’s grainy and dark, but it came back as a seventy-nine percent match. It’s Qelle. I know it.”

He handed his comm to Reyne, who examined the lo-res video. “It’s too poor of quality to make out anyone. If it was her, why hadn’t she ever contacted you?”

Sixx slumped into a chair. “I don’t know, but I can’t shake the feeling that she’s still out there, somewhere.”

Reyne made a mental note to tell Kason to not send Sixx anything else. It did no good to get the man’s hopes up when his wife had been lost to the abyss over ten years earlier.

No one spoke for a long moment. Sixx looked up. “What are we sitting around for? Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Change of plans,” Throttle said, echoing Reyne’s earlier words.

“Oh, shit. That’s never a good sign.” Sixx eyed Reyne. “How dangerous is it?”

Reyne sighed and pulled his torrent pendant out from under his shirt. “As dangerous as it gets.”

Two days later

“How long do we have to sit around on our asses and wait for our next run? So far, being a torrent runner is boring,” Throttle said as she organized the cabinets in the commons for the umpteenth time.

“Remember how I said that boring is good when it comes to flying?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s also good when it comes to being a torrent.”

She blew out a breath. Reyne ignored her and kept reading.

“Look at the bright side,” Sixx said, not taking his eyes off the news. “As long as we’re sitting in a dock, we’re not doing anything that would get us locked up in the Citadel.”

“Fine,” she said glumly. “I still wish Reyne would let us take the Gryphon out for some flying around the Coast. Now that we’re torrents, the pirates will lay off us.”

“Note to Throttle. Most pirates are not torrents. Most pirates are the scum who find pleasure in stealing, killing, and raping. Sometimes in that order.”

Sixx’s eyes widened, and he swung his feet off the table. “Reyne, you’d better see this.”

“What is it,” Reyne said without looking up.

“I think I just found your package.”

That got Reyne’s attention. Sixx motioned to the screen.

“Replay most recent news clip,” Sixx said.

The screen froze and played at a news clip showing satellite shots of a city covered in a gray haze.

What was first believed to be a tragic accident on United Day has now been confirmed as a terrorist attack.

“There,” Sixx pointed. “Freeze video. Continue audio.”

It took a moment for Reyne to make out what Sixx had seen, but once he did, he couldn’t see anything else. He came to his feet and stared.

Dr. Willem Song, lead scientist of Genics Corp, died as a result of suffocation. Dr. Song was the botanist behind blue tea, which has been credited with saving hundreds of thousands of lives by helping people to survive on less water than normally possible. His death is a tragic loss to the Collective. At the time of his death, he was on Myr’s Moon, overseeing their gene editing program. In the attack, twelve civilians and over eight hundred tenureds were killed.

It is believed that a fungal agent was released within the laboratory. Government officials have determined that the fungus, when exposed to air in the laboratory, produced a mass of airborne spores. Once inhaled, these spores adhere to the lining of the lungs and quickly multiply, suffocating its victim. There is no fungicide to kill this fungus at this time, and government officials have listed this as the highest biological risk. Therefore, the Genics Corp laboratory on the Moon has been quarantined until further notice.

Dr. Zara Wintsel, president of Genics Corp, has offered her condolences to the families of those who’ve been lost to what she calls the “blight.” Dr. Wintsel has pledged Genics Corp will continue operations and that developing a fungicide for the blight is her top priority. Myr has pledged one billion credits to support Genics Corp’s efforts.

Genics Corp, the worlds-renowned pharmaceutical organization, is based in the Smithton province on Myr. This is Lina Tao reporting for DZ-Five, your Collective news source.

Reyne never took his eyes off the frozen video. He didn’t know how it got there, but he did know that he was looking at the package he and Sixx retrieved off that Myrad hauler. An icy chill climbed his spine. He’d transported a weapon of mass destruction.

What the hell was Vym planning on doing with it?

“Did you see it?” Sixx asked. “Sounds like the old doctor might have got a taste of his own medicine.”

Without responding, Reyne left the room, put on his suit, and headed straight into Nova Colony.

People still glared, some would throw out names and colorful descriptions of what they thought of Reyne, but no one attacked him. Critch had made it clear the crew of the Gryphon was under his protection, and Reyne imagined how much it must’ve pained the pirate to say those words.

He found Critch at the Uneven Bar, sitting alone and eating a meal. He was easy to spot, with his telltale scars. Reyne knew the man had more than enough credits to have his skin repaired, but he also knew that Critch wasn’t the type of man who was into superficial improvements. He was a man who could never be bought, blackmailed, or tricked. It made him a stalwart ally…and a dangerous opponent.

Reyne grabbed a chair at Critch’s table and sat down. “I thought torrents were above bio-terrorism.”

The pirate tossed his napkin over his half-full plate. “Ah, so you saw the blight.”

Reyne rubbed his chin. “I’m still trying to put the pieces together, but they’re not fitting. My guess is Myr had Genics Corp create the blight. They’re the only corporation out there with the brainpower to create something like that, and they’re based on Myr. That part was easy. Hell, their name was even on the crate. What I don’t understand is why this package traveled all the way out to edge of the fringe only to be brought back home, where it was opened.”

“Think about it. Why would Vym have the package brought out to her?”

Reyne’s jaw loosened when the pieces fell into place. “Vym was the target, except the package was intercepted.”

Critch nodded. “I think Ice Port was the target, not just Vym. And, I think Myr is targeting the fringe stations. Control the space docks, control the Collective. You saw the blight. If they hit Ice Port, Playa’s only space dock would be out of commission, essentially taking that planet out of any potential Uprising. Any other colony would surrender if Myr would threaten to release the blight on them.”

Reyne considered Critch’s words. “It’s vicious, but it makes sense. Playa has always brought more hassle than money to Myr and Alluvia. Crippling Playa would make it all the easier for Myr to take control of the fringe.”

Critch gave a small nod. “That line of thinking makes Sol Base their next target.”

Reyne shivered. “No. They provide a huge chunk of the Collective’s food supply. Playa provided little.”

“But lately, they’ve also been having more strikes and boycotts than anyone else.”

Reyne frowned and shook his head. “But, the CUF grabbed the package. How’d you work out a deal with them? They’d rather see us fringe dead than help us.”

“That’s Vym’s doing. She said that not all the CUF officers support how the fringe has been treated.”

“Still, I can’t believe the CUF would attack a Myrad location. That seems low, even for them.”

“We don’t believe it was them.”

“Then who was it?”

“There’s another player in the game.”

“Alluvia?”

Critch shrugged. “Maybe.”

Reyne leaned back. “So, the package was intercepted, not once, but twice? That makes it a game of hot potato.”

“Nearest I can tell, yes.” The pirate stood.

“Done eating already?”

“Lost my appetite.”

Reyne sighed. “If we’re going to work together, you’re going to have talk to me sometime.”

Critch held up a finger. “First, you work for me. You’re not working with me.” He held up two fingers. “Second, a lot of good people died on Terra because of you. I don’t have to talk to you if I don’t feel like it.”

Reyne rolled his eyes. “You know, maybe one day you’ll believe me that I didn’t betray the cause.”

“Maybe, but I doubt it.” Then, he left.

After sampling Critch’s leftovers, Reyne returned to his ship, with a sinking feeling that he got himself and his crew into a mess far more dangerous than he’d ever imagined.

The Uprising had been pure, easy—a fight to grant the colonies equal rights in Parliament, citizenship to all. It was a belief he still fervently held despite every blasted colonist in the fringe thinking him a traitor.

This new Uprising was complicated. Now, it was a bid for survival, with the colonies tossed into the ring between two heavyweight fighters. Myr and Alluvia were dangerous enough, but there was a fourth contender standing in the corner and had a hell of a right hook.

His comm chimed, and he read the message. Once he climbed back onto the Gryphon and out of his suit, he grabbed a comm off the wall. He took a deep breath and broadcast to the crew. “To your stations. Cargo is on its way. We’re heading out in one hour.”

Chapter Eleven

Suffocating Truths

Throttle huffed. “Quit looking at me,” she said for the third time that hour.

Demes pouted. “But, I like looking at you,” the pirate said for the third time that hour.

She glanced at Reyne. “Please, make him leave.”

Reyne sighed and glanced back at Critch’s young envoy, who would be riding along on their torrent runs.

“How about you go hang out in your bunk,” Reyne offered. “We’ll wake you when we reach Darios’ orbit.”

“Nah,” Demes said simply.

Throttle glared in response.

Reyne’s comm beeped. “What is it?”

“I need you in Mech,” came Boden’s voice.

“Be right there.” Relieved for the interruption, Reyne stood. Before leaving the bridge, he pointed to Demes. “You, behave.” Then, he pointed to Throttle. “You, don’t kill him.”

He headed down the hallway, past the crew quarters, commons, medical bay, and stopping at the cargo bay—where the passengers were camped out—to find the door closed and locked. He frowned, turned around, and headed to Sixx’s quarters.

There, Reyne found Sixx and Doc naked on his bed.

Reyne didn’t turn away. “You’re supposed to be on cargo watch.”

Sixx cracked an eye open. He pushed Doc away and sat up. She swatted him. “Relax. I’m leaving. Don’t be so pushy,” she said as she tugged on her clothes and headed out, carrying her boots.

Sixx gave Reyne a look of exasperation. “They’re driving me nuts. For being torrents, they’re viggin’ high-maintenance. I’m hungry. I’m thirsty. I need to use the bathroom. I’m spacesick,” he mimicked in a high-pitched voice. “I needed a break. I locked them in. They’ll be fine.”

Reyne tried not to chuckle and he forced his grin down. “It’s generally considered bad manners to lock passengers in the cargo bay.”

Sixx didn’t seem bothered.

“I’m surprised they annoy you so much,” Reyne said. “Especially since half of them are voiceless.”

Sixx shook his head. “The voiceless are even worse. They have voice implants, which are so much more annoying than regular human voices.”

“Go on. Get back there,” Reyne ordered. “See to our passengers. I want them under supervision at all times. I won’t want them messing around with anything on this ship.”

Sixx grumbled but he dragged himself off his bed and walked with Reyne back to the cargo bay.

When they reached the door, Reyne squeezed Sixx’s shoulder. “Be patient with them. Most of them were tenured on Alluvia and Myr. They’ve likely suffered under pretty shitty citizens to have their voices removed.”

Sixx scowled. “I’ll stay patient as long as my sanity holds. No guarantees beyond that.”

“Then, you have my permission to kick their asses when they piss you off. Just don’t kill any of them. That would reflect badly on our hospitality.”

“That I can handle.”

Reyne gave him a quick smile, and finally made it to the mechanicals room at the far end of the ship, where he found Boden standing with his forehead pressed against the wall.

“That doesn’t look good,” Reyne said.

The mechanic shot him a quick glance before settling down on a large duct running in between the walls. “The Gryphon supports a crew of fourteen. We’re flying with twenty-one right now. It’s stressing the air exchanger.”

“Are we running a risk of it failing?” Reyne asked.

“Probably not, but the exchanger is overloaded. It’s running hotter every hour. I need to turn it down to minimum support for a couple hours to let it cool down.”

“We only have enough oxygen cans for the crew.”

Boden calculated for a moment. “I’ll do it during sleep time. Anyone awake may suffer from mild hypoxia.”

“Sixx will enjoy that.” Reyne slapped Boden’s shoulder. “Do what you have to do. Ping the crew when you reduce the air levels, so they can switch over to their oxygen.”

“Sure thing,” the mechanic replied.

Reyne made his way back to the bridge to find Throttle and Demes arguing. He shook his head, feeling that all he’d done the past few days was lassoing chaos.

“The Honorless could kick the Gryphon’s ass on the Coastal Run,” Demes said.

“In your dreams,” Throttle snapped back. “The Gryphon’s smaller, plus it has a Flux Whisper engine. Take that, pirate.”

“Ouch.” Demes smirked. “The Honorless has two Flux Whispers. I’ll take that kiss now?”

Throttle’s jaw dropped before clamping it shut and becoming instantly focused on her instrument panel.

Demes chuckled and strode over to Throttle.

She glared at him and then gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

He leaned back. “That most certainly is not a kiss.”

He cupped her cheeks and swooped in, kissing her long and hard on the lips.

Reyne cleared his throat and crossed his arms over his chest. Demes pulled slowly away.

Throttle swatted his arm. “Happy now?”

“Yep. For now.” Demes walked cockily back to his seat, crossing paths with Reyne on the way. He paused and shrugged. “She lost a bet.”

Reyne turned to Throttle, who was blushing. “I should’ve warned you. Never make a bet with a pirate. Any bet they make is guaranteed to be rigged in their favor.”

She pouted before focusing wholly on her instrument panel.

Reyne couldn’t miss the smile she was trying to hard to hide, and he suspected she wasn't feeling too badly about losing the bet. He took a seat and broadcast a message to Doc’s and Sixx’s quarters, “Heads up, crew. In a bit, Boden will be reducing the air exchanger to let it cool down. No need to alert our passengers. Just keep an eye out for signs of hypoxia.”

“What kind of junker are we flying in?” Demes asked.

“I thought pirates were a hardy lot,” Reyne replied. “From what I hear, they don’t even need air to breathe.”

“It’s a fact, but we sometimes like to pretend we need it. We don’t want to intimidate the ladies too much,” Demes said as a matter-of-fact.

Throttle rolled her eyes.

Reyne ignored him and began to review the approach plates for Sol Base, the fringe station on Darios and the busiest fringe station in the Collective. The planet produced a huge portion of the Collective’s food supply, including all of the Collective’s philoseed and cavote, two bean-like staples in every civilian’s and colonist’s diet alike. Alluvia and Myr depended on Darios, making Darios the CUF’s most closely closely fringe world.

Darios was also the most highly regulated, with over eighty percent income tax on their exports. Even with that penalty, Darions were the wealthiest colonists in the fringe, making it clear just how much food they produced. However, Darions had been growing more and more agitated at the Collective’s greed and had begun holding strikes, delaying shipments to Myr and Alluvia while bypassing their citizen middlemen to sell food directly to the other colonies. Their actions were a slap in the face to the Collective’s two leaders.

Sol Base was a thermite tripwire that could be triggered at any time.

“Whoa. You have a phase cannon?” Demes asked.

Reyne shot around to see Demes running his fingers across the panel at his station. Reyne jumped to his feet and rushed over. “How’d you get access to the ship’s systems?”

“I’m a pirate. It’s my job.”

“Stop that.” Reyne pushed him to the side and ran commands to lock out the young man. Finished, he took a step back. “Listen here, pup. You’re on my ship, but you are not one of my crew. And, if you put my crew or my ship at risk, I won’t hesitate to drift you. Do you understand that?”

Demes leaned back in his seat and held up his hands in surrender. “I was bored and looking around. No harm intended, I swear. I was just making sure we didn’t have a bigger problem than the air exchanger to worry about.”

“I have everything under control. The next time you get bored and want to know something, ask.” Reyne turned to Throttle. “If he pisses you off, shoot him.”

Throttle grinned. “Aye, aye captain.”

Reyne returned to his panel, and hit the comm. “Boden, run diagnostics on the systems. Make sure nothing was changed to any command lines.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

“I didn’t change anything,” Demes said. “I could have, but I didn’t.”

Reyne sighed. Why couldn’t just one person behave and do their job without needing Reyne to keep them out of trouble? He shook his head and tried to focus on preparing for Sol Base. He had some success until Demes continued.

“I’m not trying to butt into your business, but when I was in your systems, I couldn’t help but notice that the Gryphon has fortified skins. Very impressive. This would make a good pirate ship.”

Reyne put his elbows on the panel and lowered his head into his hands. “How the hell did you see that?”

“I ran temp checks throughout the ship. The hull’s insulation factor is much higher than normal. My guess is you have a full second layer of rilon inside the outer layer. It’s an old pirate trick. The rilon fortifies a ship’s hull without any suspicious onlookers the wiser. The CUF would have to cut into the hull to even see it.” He whistled. “That’s not a cheap add-on.” Demes paused. “All in all, she’s not a bad ship. I’d take her off your hands if you ever decide to sell her. Especially if the pilot comes with her.”

Throttle gave Demes the bird.

“You’d have to pry this ship out of my cold, dead hands,” Reyne said. “As for Throttle, she’d eat you alive.”

He grinned. “Sounds like a challenge.”

“Which part? The part about prying the ship out of my cold, dead hands? Or, the part about Throttle?”

“The part about Throttle. No offense, captain, but your old. I think I could take you in a fair fight.”

Reyne unbuckled his holster and pulled out his gun.

“Not that I’d ever consider it,” Demes quickly added. “Especially now that we’re friends.”

Reyne slowly slid the gun back into his holster. “We’re friends now?”

“Sure,” the younger pirate said. “To prove it to you, I’ll even tell you what else I found in your systems.”

“What else did you find?” Reyne asked, taking the bait.

“You have a tracking device on the ship. Looks like it’s tucked into the gear for the solar sails. High-tech. My guess is Alluvian.”

Reyne spun around to his panel and punched commands to pull up the ship’s grid. Looking at the solar sails, he found nothing. He walked to Demes. “Show me.”

“I’ll need access to your systems.”

Reyne grunted and unlocked the panel, not doubting for an instant that the pirate could’ve hacked into the system in seconds.

The man’s fingers flew over the panel so fast that Reyne had a hard time following what he was doing. Soon, Demes leaned back and pointed.

Reyne leaned closer. Sure enough, whatever system scan Demes had run caught the transmitter. “Son of a bitch.”

“Now to play the devil’s advocate—or Critch’s advocate, in this case,” Demes began. “That tracker has a CUF signature. Did you know that tracker was there? Is it for your CUF buddies to rendezvous with you? Or, did the CUF get a wild hair up their ass and decided to track a run-of-the-mill fringe runner for no particular reason? I’d hate to say it, but the first is a far more rational explanation.”

Reyne took a step back to see a gun leveled at his chest. He held out his hands. “You have my word that I knew nothing about that tracker.”

“Are you nuts, Demes?” Throttle called out. “Put that gun away.”

“Just doing my job, sweets.”

“You shoot him, I shoot you,” she said, and Reyne saw that she had a gun aimed at Demes.

“Enough,” Reyne said. “Both of you, put away your guns.” When neither complied, Reyne continued. “Demes, if you shoot me, then Throttle will shoot you. Critch won’t be happy, and he’ll come after Throttle. Instead of wasting our lives and energy on being enemies, we need to focus on the job. Right now, that job is getting those recruiters sitting in my cargo bay safely to Sol Base so they can begin rallying the public. I give you my word, I’ll find out who put that tracker on my ship. Until then, how about you give me the benefit of the doubt, and help me figure out how to jam that signal. How about it, friend? Consider yourself a part of my crew while you’re on board the Gryphon.”

Demes eyed Reyne for a long while before sliding his gun back into its holster. He cracked his knuckles and smiled. “See? I told you we were friends.”

Reyne nodded at Throttle who then holstered her gun. Then, Reyne swung around and punched Demes. The younger man went tumbling to the floor.

Reyne stood over him, and then held out a hand. “Now, we’re friends.”

Demes rubbed his chin and spit out blood. He eyed Reyne for a moment, then grabbed the outstretched hand, and Reyne pulled him to his feet.

He took a seat. “You’ve got a pretty good right hook for an old man.”

Reyne headed back to his seat. After he sat down, he fought the urge to shake the adrenaline from his trembling hands. He stared at his panel. “Hey, Demes, what’s your job on Critch’s crew?”

“I’m a tech.”

“A tech,” Reyne echoed. “Great.” Great. Critch had put a hacker on board. Things kept getting better.

“I’m receiving a distress signal from Sol Base,” Throttle announced.

“Put it on speakers,” Reyne ordered.

Sol Base is in a state of medical emergency and requires immediate assistance. An unknown airborne agent has been detected at the station and is spreading outward. Genetic makeup of the agent is included in this message. This message will repeat.

“I’m linking with the station’s cams now,” Demes said.

As the message repeated, the view screen switched from the ship’s forward path to various video feeds from the surface of Sol Base. Every feed was the same. Bodies of humans, animals, and birds lay strewn across the ground, all covered in a gray dust. Food carts and vehicles sat still, all covered in gray. Everything was a muted gray except for the large view screens still played vibrant advertisements. It was though life stopped in a single second, all suffocating under gray death.

“Sweet Sabra,” Throttle said.

Reyne’s heart froze. “They’ve been hit by the blight.”

Chapter Twelve

Deadly Pursuits

“Get us out of here, Throttle. Make it fast,” Reyne ordered.

“Okay,” she said numbly.

“The CUF will be all over Sol Base, if they’re not there already,” he added. “And, I guarantee any runners in the area will be docked and checked.”

“Where do we go?” she asked.

“The Coast will be the safest place,” Demes said.

“He’s right. Set a course for the Space Coast,” Reyne said.

“Oh, shit,” she said. “Too late. We’re being hailed by a CUF ship.”

“On the speakers,” he commanded.

“Fringe hauler Playa-Seven-Five-Five-One-Bravo, this is the Collective Unified Forces battleship Nautilus. You are hereby ordered to dock at port Five. You have five minutes to comply. If you show any signs of noncompliance, you will be fired upon. Respond within sixty seconds of your compliance. Convey ship logs and crew list with compliance.”

“What do we do?” Throttle asked.

Reyne’s lips thinned. “We do what runners do. We run.”

Throttle’s eyes widened. “We can’t outrun a warship.”

“The warships are busy with dock checks. They can’t make jump speed without first battening down any ships in their docks.”

Throttle went to frantic work on the instruments, while Reyne transmitted static back to the Nautilus. “There, that ought to have them scratching their heads for a minute or two.” He then broadcasted to the entire ship. “Strap in and hold on. Things are going to get downright bumpy.”

Demes watched Reyne for a moment, and his lips curled up. “You might not make a bad pirate after all.”

“I’m a torrent, not a pirate,” the runner snapped back. “And figure out a way to jam that damn tracker.”

“I’m closing the solar sails now,” Throttle said. “And powering up the Flux.”

Reyne pulled up the grids around Darios and found the location of the Nautilus. It was one of five warships over Sol Base. “Looks like the Nautilus is watching. They’re dispatching drones.”

Without Sixx on the bridge, Reyne had to turn to Demes. “Are you familiar with Class Five proton guns?”

Demes nodded. “Of course.”

“You take forward guns, I’ll take aft. Do not fire unless we are out of all other options. The instant we show we have armament, they’ll send the whole damn fleet after us.”

“Can I use the phase cannon?”

“Why does everyone want to use the damn cannon?” he muttered, before adding. “No, stick with the guns.”

“Throttle, tell me you’ll have us to jump speed before the drones get within range,” Reyne said.”

“Only a few more seconds. Powering up jump shields now.”

“Only a few more seconds, and the drones will be in range,” Demes said.

Reyne ignored the Nautilus’ hails and watched the drones approach on the grid. “They’re eight-fifty clicks out. Hurry, Throttle.”

“Double-checking coordinates now.”

“You’re double-checking?” Demes asked. “There are drones flying over here to kill us.”

“You’d rather we fly into an asteroid or star swarm?” she snapped back. “There. Got it.”

Reyne’s heart pounded. “Four hundred clicks.”

Throttle furiously worked the controls. “Okay. Retract the guns. I’m hitting jump in three, two, one. Go!”

The gun bay lights flashed green as the Gryphon hummed and shot forward. Sound and vibration merged into one as Reyne was plastered against his seat, unable to inhale. Seconds later, everything stabilized. Reyne immediately began running scans for any chasers. Seeing nothing, Reyne relaxed.

“Throttle, I’d like to have wild sex with you right now,” Demes said.

“Hey,” Reyne snapped around. “That’s my daughter you’re talking to.”

“Sorry,” he said, not sounding the least bit apologetic. “Throttle, I’d like to take you on a date to my room right now.”

Throttle giggled, oblivious to Demes. “I can’t believe we outran a warship.”

Reyne breathed deeply. “And, I’m glad we pulled it off. We have fifteen torrents in the cargo bay, a fully armed gunship, and I imagine Demes here is wanted on all six planets.”

“I’m a wanted man,” the young pirate concurred.

Reyne contemplated for a moment. “Demes, you’re a tech.”

“Yeah.”

“Can you get an untraceable message out to all the fringe stations?”

“Sure.”

He walked over to Demes and pulled up images of the package he’d pulled from the Myrad hauler. “We need to tell them what happened at Sol Base and that the same could happen to them. Tell them the blight would come in a package that looks like this, and could be delivered from Genics Corp or any one of their Myrad subsidiaries.” He pointed to the image.

“How do you know all this?” Demes asked.

“We were hired to deliver a package meant for Ice Port.”

“Oh.”

Reyne left the bridge and made rounds to check on everyone and everything. Fortunately, the only injury was a sprained wrist on a torrent who hadn’t strapped himself down in time for the jump. Reyne left him with Doc and returned to the bridge.

Demes announced proudly, “I’m finished. A message has been sent to all fringe stations and Nova Colony.”

Reyne took a deep breath. “Well done. Let’s hope it reaches them all in time for them to do something.”

Throttle wheeled backward. “We’ll drop out of jump speed in three hours. I’m going to grab a quick bite.”

Demes raised his hand. “Grab me some grub while you’re at it, sweets.”

She mock-saluted him as she wheeled off the bridge.

Reyne leaned back and watched the stars shoot by.

“Um.” Demes broke the silence. “I have some good news and bad news.”

Reyne turned. “What’s the bad news?”

“The CUF has put out immediate cease-and-desist orders to all fringe runners. Looks like every runner is on their watch-list as possible bio-terrorist accomplices.”

“That’s no surprise. It’s not like they can pin the blame on any citizens,” Reyne said drily. “And the good news?”

“I lied. It’s all bad news. I can’t jam the tracker from here. Someone’s going to have to go outside to do it.”

“Which we can’t do at jump speed.” Reyne rubbed his temples. “We’ll get it as soon as we dock. In the meantime, I need you to send an encrypted message to Critch. Tell him the run’s been cancelled. We’re heading back, with cargo still on board.”

“Sending it now.” Demes began typing. “Message sent. You know, I don’t think he likes you very much.”

“No, he doesn’t. I think he’d like to kill me.”

Demes shrugged. “I think you’re right.” He hesitated before continuing. “Why’d you do it?”

“I didn’t.”

He chuckled. “That’s what every convict in the Citadel says.”

“Hm. Maybe they’re innocent, too.”

Demes shuffled. “Incoming response from Critch.”

“What does it say?”

“More bad news. The CUF has sent several warships to patrol the between the fringe and the Coast. Sounds like they’re taking the ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ approach. He said to avoid the Coast.”

“Shit.” punched in the controls to drop them out of jump speed so he could change course.

“What are you going to do?”

“We’re heading to Ice Port.”

“Is that safe?”

“No, bud I know somewhere we can hide.”

“Send a message to Vym,” Reyne said. “Tell her she’s about to get her hands dirty.”

Chapter Thirteen

Toxic Complications

“Darios has fallen to the blight,” Heid said to Sebin.

He clenched his eyes shut. “We failed them.”

“There’s still hope. Darios may be the most valuable fringe world to the Collective, but the other fringe worlds are important, too.”

“But, without food coming in from Sol Base—”

She grabbed the man’s arms. “We’ll find a way.” She stepped back and continued. “I’m awaiting a message from Mason. He’s convening with the Three to discuss what can be done to prevent Myr from targeting other fringe stations. Darios is a tragedy, but he believes it doesn’t jeopardize peace across the Collective.”

Sebin hesitated for moment. “After all these years, do you think it’s possible? Peace, that is?”

“Of course,” she replied. “I have to. The Founders have been working for years to infiltrate all the positions needed to realize peace. We won’t fail. We can’t fail.”

“What of our counterparts based at fringe stations? Have they warned?”

“I’ve notified all but am unable to contact Seamstress. Communications are being jammed by CUF drones around Ice Port.”

He frowned. “Who would do such a thing?”

She grimaced, as though even saying his name was a sour taste on her lips. “None other than Corps General Ausyar.”

He stood aghast. “Why?”

She nodded grimly. “It seems that Myr has chosen the least valuable of the fringe worlds as their scapegoat for the blight. That colony has never been in the black, financially speaking, so I suspect they’re setting the stage to cut Playa free from the new Collective.”

“Those colonists will never survive without imports.”

Heid continued. “It gets far worse for us, I’m afraid. Ausyar is announcing tonight that he’s pulling the entire fleet together. All Alluvian commandants are being reassigned.”

Sebin stood, flabbergasted. “That’s impossible. That’s not within his power. Our people will never stand for it. Parliament never would reach two-thirds majority vote to allow him to do such a thing.”

“It seems that Parliament has already granted Ausyar’s increase in responsibilities in return for an undisclosed agreement made with individual Parliament members. It’s safe to say Parliament is a no longer viable entity. Mason, Mariner, and Aeronaut are aware of this, but Mason is preaching a conservative approach. He’d been warning Alluvia to not be hasty in their response to Ausyr.”

Sebin paced and then returned to Heid. “What will happen to you?”

“The Arcadia remains under my command until we connect with the fleet in three days, at which time, I relinquish command to First Officer Franklin Laciam.”

“This is bullshit. We can’t stand for this.”

“Unfortunately, Mason and I have never seen eye-to-eye on this. He’s made it clear that I continue serving the CUF as directed until further notice. He believes that if I refuse to give up my command, I could undermine his work and unravel the few remaining threads holding the Collective together.”

“But, if you lose the Arcadia…”

Heid stood firm. “There’s no way in hell I’m giving up the Arcadia.”

Chapter Fourteen

Haunted Visions

“I have some more bad news,” Demes said.

“Do you ever have good news?” Reyne asked.

“Plenty of times. Just not when it comes to you.”

Reyne sighed. “What have you got?”

“The message never got through to Vym. The CUF’s quarantined Ice Port. Oh hey, I do have some good news.”

“And that would be?”

“No warships have arrived yet. Looks like a patroller dropped off a drone blockade, and there are dozens of the little buggers out there.”

“You call that good news?” Reyne asked.

Demes shrugged. “Drones are easy to sneak by. They sense power readings. All we have to do is power down everything and sail right on by them.”

“One problem with that,” Reyne said. “We still have a tracker transmitting outside the ship. Even if we powered down, it will still transmit. If the drones pick up that reading, they’ll turn their EMP blasters on us.”

“Uh oh,” Demes said, no longer paying any attention to either Reyne or Throttle. “We’ve got bigger problems than the drones. A warship is dropping out of jump speed. They’re flagging us now.”

“Ignore them,” Reyne said. “Wait, which ship is it?”

“It’s the Trinity. The CUF’s very finest.”

“Definitely ignore them,” Reyne said with a scowl.

“Like there’s CUF warship you’d want to talk to?” Demes asked.

Reyne scrambled to pull it up on his panel. “Throttle, how much juice do we have?”

“Not enough to enter jump speed again.”

“I was afraid of that. Looks like we’re heading down to the surface. Throttle, keep jump shields up and take us down the approach as fast as you can.”

“Are you crazy? The drones will blast us,” Demes said. “They’ll turn us into dead metal if we fly past them with power.”

“I have a hunch they won’t,” Reyne said. “Throttle, remember flying down Tulan Canyon?”

“Sure, why?”

“I need you to bring us right over the space dock and then keep it low down the canyon. We need that warship to think we’ve docked at Ice Port.”

Throttle snapped around. “The canyon? I-yeah, I can do that, but the Gryphon is a spaceship, not an airplane. She’ll fly like a rock once we’re in the atmosphere.”

“I know. You won’t have to fly in the atmosphere for long. I’m entering the canyon landing coordinates now.”

Her eyes grew even wider. “We can’t land in the canyon. We need a long runway or landing grapples. We’ll crash.”

“Just focus on getting us to the canyon,” Reyne said. “I’ll guide you from there.”

“I’m with Throttle,” Demes said. “If we don’t die in a fiery crash at the space docks—which is in all likelihood is going to happen—without a launch pad to help us break gravity, the Gryphon is just big hunk of metal sitting on the surface of a shithole of a planet that I’d prefer not to live out my days.”

“Hey, Ice Port is my home,” Reyne countered.

“We’re coming up on the drones,” Throttle said.

“The Trinity is arming her proton guns.”

Reyne ignored him and instead watched as they cut in between a wide blanket of drones. The drones transmitted instructions—Reyne’s instrument panel was aglow with warnings, but no EMPs came—and Throttle continued forward.

The Trinity fired a shot across the Gryphon’s bow.

“Shit!” Throttle snapped around to see the blast.

“Keep going,” Reyne said.

“They’re going to kill us,” Demes said. “We should use the phase cannon to—”

“Don’t you touch that cannon.” Reyne wagged a finger at Demes. “What is it with everyone and the cannon?”

A second shot fired, this one even closer, and Reyne found himself gripping the panel. “Just keep going, Throttle.”

Once they made it past the drones, they broke through the atmosphere. If the Trinity fired now, it risked hitting the surface.

Throttle let out a breath. “We did it,” she said softly.

“I can’t believe we’re still alive,” Demes said. “You, Reyne, are the craziest man I’ve ever met. I can’t believe we just flew right through a drone blockade like a Sunday walk.”

Reyne grimaced. “The drones are here to prevent anyone from leaving Ice Port. They aren’t stopping anyone from landing.”

“How’d you know that?” Throttle asked.

“I didn’t. And, I’m guessing we do not want to be in Ice Port right now,” Reyne said.

“You ignored the Trinity,” Demes said and used his hands to enunciate. “The Trinity. You do realize that we’re all dead men, don’t you? They’ll never let us get by with this.”

“Speak for yourself, pirate,” Throttle said, before adding, “We’re running out of time to land at the docks.”

Reyne looked at her. “You learned to fly in Playa’s atmosphere. You can do this.” He grabbed the comm and broadcasted to the ship. “Hold on tight. We’re on approach for landing.”

He turned back to Throttle. “Remember, make it close,” Reyne said. “Don’t break from approach until you get below the cloud cover. The drones are jamming all communications, but their onboard cameras will be running. We need the drones to record us on final approach so that the Trinity thinks we’re at Ice Port along with whomever else they’re after.”

“We’re breaking through now,” Throttle said as the Gryphon broke through Playa’s low, heavy cloud layer. The ship rocked and bucked as Throttle fought the winds.

They popped below the clouds. The space dock was directly below and coming fast. He held on and grunted as Throttle banked the ship in a High-G turn to glide near-parallel to the surface below. They flew over the fringe station, kicking up snow and flying far too fast to make out any distinct features.

“Remember the old cave I never let you check out in the hovercraft?” Reyne asked.

“Yeah.”

“Now’s your chance.”

“This isn’t a hovercraft.”

Reyne continued. “As soon as that cave comes into view, line up for landing. Be sure to touch down just beyond the entrance. You’ll have only ten thousand feet of runway ahead of you. You’ll need to have the Gryphon slowed down enough for a short landing.”

She sucked in a breath. “The winds aren’t helping out today.”

“You can do this landing in your sleep,” he added and meant every word.

She chortled.

He kept analyzing their speed and rate of descent. As soon as they were within one hundred miles of the Tulan Canyon, he brought down the landing gear. “Slow down. We’re coming in too fast. I’ll drop the flaps.”

“Not quite yet,” she said. “We’ll need the speed once we hit the canyon.”

As soon as they reached the canyon, Reyne pointed at the black dot in the distance. “There’s the cave.”

“It’s a lot smaller than I remembered,” she said. “Okay, drop the flaps now.”

He hit the switch and the ship lurched at the sudden loss of speed. Still, he watched the cave approached too fast.

Throttle talked through her landing checklist. When she’d finished, she blew out a breath. “Here we go.”

Right before they reached the cave entrance, Throttle slipped the ship to bleed speed. Reyne’s eyes widened. She straightened it out just as it crossed into the darkness. The ship’s landing lights were all that lit up the cave, leaving the Gryphon enveloped in black.

She settled the ship down onto its landing gear, which made a metallic cry as the rilon skids came into contact with the surface. The air brakes sounded and Reyne found himself nearly thrown from his seat as the ship abruptly slowed, coming to a stop three-quarters down the underground runway.

Throttle lifted her hands from the panel as though the controls burned her. “Oh, sweet Sabra. I can’t believe I just did that.”

“I can’t believe it, either,” Demes concurred.

Reyne grinned. “I knew you could do it.”

Throttle spun to face Reyne. “Why didn’t you tell me about this place?”

“Because this is one of those places that legally abiding folks are better to not know about,” Demes answered for Reyne. “Strange. I had no idea Playa had a smugglers’ dock.”

“It wasn’t built for smugglers,” Reyne corrected. “It was the first torrent base ever built, and, to the best of my knowledge, the last remaining one. That is, assuming the space dock is still operational.”

“I’m surprised Critch never flew the Honorless into here.”

“This base was built before he joined the torrents. This was the Uprising was just the Playans against the Collective.”

Reyne grabbed the comm and broadcasted to the ship. “This is your captain speaking. Welcome to Playa. The home of low gravity, even lower temperatures, and high winds that take pleasure in sucking you into the abyss if you’re not careful. I need you stay on the ship until we work out the local situation.”

Reyne turned to Demes. “Head down to electrical and grab Boden. He’ll help you bundle up for Playa. I need you and Boden outside to get that damn tracker off this ship and destroyed.”

Demes stood with a look of utter distaste before trudging off the bridge.

“So, what do we do now?” Throttle asked.

“We wait,” Reyne said. “Once the CUF finishes searching Ice Port for whomever they’re looking for, they’ll leave. The Trinity isn’t going to waste time around Playa too long.” I hope.

“Think they’re here for us?” she asked.

“I don’t see the CUF blockading an entire fringe station for one runner. There’s something bigger going on, and I want to find out what it is.”

He opened up the frequencies, but all he heard was dead silence.

“Why is he being helpful?” Throttle asked. “Demes, I mean.”

Reyne’s jaw tightened. “My guess is Critch is paying him quite well to cozy up and learn everything he can about us to relay back.”

“We should leave him here.”

“His tech skills might come in handy. Still, you’d best keep an eye on him.”

“Wait. We’ve got incoming.”

Reyne looked out the view screen to see a hovercraft landing not far from them. When it stopped under the Gryphon’s landing lights, Reyne could make out the ship, and he breathed.

He grabbed his comm. “Sixx, I need you with me on the surface now. We’ve got company.”

“Friend or foe?”

“Both.”

“Who is it out there?”

“Vym,” he gritted out.

A few minutes later, Reyne and Sixx were bundled up in thick coats, wearing gravity belts and an arsenal of guns and knives. As they climbed down from the ship, the newcomers stepped out. It was impossible to make out which one was Vym due to the thick insulation covering them from head to toe, but Reyne guessed she was the shortest of the group.

Sure enough, the shortest member stepped forward and motioned to the entrance to the base.

Vym was the last person he wanted to talk to, and the person he needed to talk to the most. He grabbed the handle and pushed. Ice cracked and fell off as the door opened. He and Sixx stepped inside. Sixx spun to face the others, while Reyne searched for a light switch. Vym found the switch first, and greenish light filled the base’s control room. Warmth began to fill the room.

Vym flung off her hood, revealing a glowering woman. “Aramis Reyne, what the hell are you doing on Playa?”

“I missed the weather.”

“You shouldn’t have come here. Playa is not safe. The CUF has decided I am the leader of a bio-terrorist organization.”

“I didn’t exactly have many options. The CUF has set up drone quarantines at all fringe stations. And, they’re attacking anyone who tries to flee to the coast.”

“You’ll be safe here, and the launch pad is fully operational so you can wait out this mess from here. Just be careful to not be seen. If they’re after me, they’ll come after anyone close to me.”

He sighed. “Why is it that when it comes to you, all I get is headaches and problems? First the package, then the guns, then the tracker. What next?”

She seemed taken aback by his words. “You know I would have absolutely nothing to do with that horrible blight. As for the guns, I want all torrent ships weaponized. We need to be ready for the Uprising. I would’ve told you, but I wanted you to meet with Critch first.”

“You should’ve told me. And the tracker?”

She shrugged, her brows raised. “I have no idea. I think you need to ask a particular CUF commandant about that.”

Reyne watched her for a moment before accepting her response. “Tell me, what’s your part in all this?”

“My part?” She broke eye contact. “I’m the stationmaster of Ice Port.”

“I’m not talking about that job.”

She pursed her lips. “Everything I do—everything I’ve ever done—is to unite the worlds of the Collective, with colonists treated equally along with citizens. I’ve been forced to make compromises in the past, but I’ve taken a stand. I give you my word, my heart beats only for the Uprising. And, there are those who will go after me because of that.”

An earthquake rattled the control room, soon following by the sound of thunder.

Everyone shot furtive glances around.

“That’s one hell of an earthquake,” Sixx said, his eyes wide.

“Playa doesn’t have earthquakes,” Reyne replied. “That’s the sound of a phase cannon.”

Vym frowned. “The Arcadia would never fire upon Ice Port.”

Reyne narrowed his gaze upon her. “The Arcadia’s not out there. It’s the Trinity that’s up there.”

Her eyes grew wide as she gasped. “It’s not her.”

She threw on her hood and rushed toward the door.

“Wait,” Reyne called out. “What’s going on?”

“It seems Ausyr has made his next move. I must reach him and offer my surrender. It’s the only way to save Ice Port.” She took a couple more steps, then stopped and turned to Reyne. “I need your help to prevent a war.”

Reyne stood there and stared, slack-jawed. “You really think we’re on the brink of war?”

“Absolutely.” She pulled out a small tablet and began typing. “With the jammers, I can’t get a message out. I asked you to meet with Critch. Now, I ask you to meet with Commandant Heid on the Arcadia. Give this device to her when you meet with her, not to her officers. It has to be handed directly to her. It’s proof that I trust you, and that she can trust you.”

Reyne laughed. “All runners are on the terrorist watch list. Who’s to say the Arcadia won’t blow my ship to bits as soon as we’re in range?”

Another explosion rocked the surface.

“I have no time to argue. Playans are being slaughtered out there!” She forced him to take the tablet. “Without the Alluvians, this Uprising will fail.” She turned and ran from Reyne, leaving him and Sixx standing there in shock.

After a long moment of silence, Reyne turned to Sixx. “What just happened?”

Sixx gave a long, slow shake of his head. “I think we’re even more fucked than I thought.”

Chapter Fifteen

Frozen Sorrow

The first thing Reyne had done after Vym left was relocate the torrents from the cargo bay to the base’s control room where the temperature had warmed enough to survivable conditions. At first relieved to leave the cramped hold, they began asking questions when they felt the first cannon blast rumble through the base. He refused to talk about the bombardment taking place over one hundred miles away. The thought of his home being destroyed while he could do nothing was acid on his nerves.

“We could be here for some time. You may as well get comfortable,” Sixx ordered, while Reyne leaned against the wall, his arms folded over his chest. “I need some volunteers to get the heat going in the rest of this base.”

Three raised their hands, and Sixx nodded in recognition. “Once the temp is bearable, go in pairs and tally supplies. See what we have to work with here.”

“Start two levels down,” Reyne said, and Sixx turned to him. “There used to be a large stockroom down there.”

Chatter erupted from the group of fifteen shivering torrents, and Reyne walked out slammed the door on the cacophony of questions and demands. After climbing into the Gryphon, he locked the door to keep all non-crewmembers out.

Boden and Demes came walking down the hall. Boden tossed a small object to Reyne. “The tracker has been taken care of.”

He examined the small black device that looked like it had been hit with a hammer. He tossed it back. “Nicely done.”

“What’s going on out there?” Demes asked. “It sounds like one hell of a battle.”

Reyne shook his head. “It’s not a battle. It’s a slaughter.”

Demes’ eyes widened. “What? Why?”

“The CUF decided to blame Ice Port for Myr’s blight. They’re bombing a city to hide the truth.” He squeezed his fists and breathed deeply, trying not to think about Ice Port.

Boden and Demes started to walk away, and Reyne called out, “Hold up.”

He stopped and turned.

“I have a project that’s right up your alley.”

His eyes narrowed. “Is it outside?”

“Nope. You can work on it in the comfort of the Gryphon.”

Demes grinned. “I’m in. What is it?”

Reyne turned to his mechanic instead. “Boden, I need you to work on refueling the Gryphon and get her moved onto the launch pad. Grab Sixx to help you. I want us ready to lift off as soon as the CUF leaves.”

“There’s juice here?” he asked.

“Juice and a ready launch pad,” Reyne said with confidence. “Our own private space dock . When you’re done, meet me in the commons. We’re going to have a crew meeting.”

Once he left, Reyne turned to Demes. “How good of tech are you?”

“Good enough to make the crew of the Honorless.”

Reyne pulled out the tablet. No matter how he worked through the details in his head, the value of whatever Vym was hiding on this device far outweighed the risk of what the pirate would do with it, though Reyne planned to keep a very careful eye on the tech.

Demes held out his hand. “What’s that?”

He took a deep breath and handed the tablet to Demes, who examined it.

“I need you to hack this tablet and copy all the information on it while leaving it completely intact. No signs of being hacked. Can you do that?”

Demes grinned. “If anyone can do it, I can.”

“Come get me the moment you get it copied. I need it before the crew meeting.”

“Am I invited?”

“You’re one of my crew, aren’t you?”

“Then I’ll be sure to have it to you before then.”

Demes rushed to his bunk like an excited boy and disappeared inside.

Reyne headed to the bridge to find Throttle staring down the dark runway.

“They’re all dying, aren’t they?”

Reyne spotted the tears running down her cheeks. He took a seat and leaned heavy on his elbows. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Because of us?” Her question was soft, tentative.

Reyne leveled his gaze upon her. “No. None of this is because of us. This is because of the powers that control the Collective are playing gods. Darios fell because it’s the most valuable fringe planet. Playa is falling because we’re the least valuable.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I don’t understand it all yet myself. But, I do know that whatever is happening was planned long before we ever found that damn package.” He took a deep breath. “Get some rest. You’ll need it. I’ll wake you when Boden and Sixx return.”

She didn’t say anything else as rolled off the bridge and down the hallway.

He sat there and stared out the window, feeling his heart wrench with every cannon blast. He was born in Ice Port and had had a better childhood than most before he’d been conscripted into CUF service. Even though he’d spent fewer and fewer days on Playa since the Uprising, his heart swelled every time he returned home.

Home.

Hell, he was beginning to wonder if he’d have any home left after all this bombing.

The slaughter raged for hours, and Reyne kept himself busy contemplating Vym’s words and the role she’d been playing with the CUF in all this.

Demes entered the bridge and handed the tablet along with a computer coin to Reyne.

“I was able to ghost it and get you a copy, but the data is still encrypted. I can’t break it without my tools on board the Honorless. If I can get to my tools, I can break the encryption.”

“Then, I guess we need to get you to the Honorless,” Reyne said before shooting the pirate a wry look. “Listen, Demes. I don’t entirely hate you so I’ll make this clear. I know you’re working for Critch every minute of every day, and I know that you’ll see that he gets a copy of this the instant the jammers clear out of Playa’s airspace.”

“If you think I’d share the data with Critch, why’d you let me work with it?”

“Because if he’s serious about making this Uprising work, he needs to see it, too. But, if I find out you’ve decrypted this tablet and given that data to Critch and not me, then I’ll drift you.”

The port opened, and Sixx and Boden entered the ship.

“The ship’s refueled and the launch pad is booting up. I’m charging the tug now.”

Sixx gave a dramatic shiver. “It’s colder than an Alluvian wench out there.”

Boden’s brows rose at the mention of his home world.

“Oh, come one,” Reyne said. “We’re in a cavern. There’s no wind. Hell, I’ve gone for jogs outside in colder weather than this.”

“That’s because you’re a Playan, and Playans are inhuman snowmen,” Sixx muttered.

Reyne gave him a droll stare before hitting the comm. “Throttle, Doc, crew meeting in the commons now.”

They headed as a group to the commons. Once Sixx pulled off his coat, he frowned at Demes. “What are you doing here?

“Crew meeting. I’m a crew member.”

“You’re not one of the crew. Go hang out with your buddies out there.

Demes shot Sixx an overly wide grin. “Tell them, captain.”

Sixx turned to Reyne, who shrugged. “Demes is serving as our tech until we get him back to Nova Colony.”

Sixx threw out his arms, and turned to the cabinet and grabbed a bottle of whiskey.

“I’ll have a drink of that,” Demes said.

Sixx ignored him and took a long drink. He sat down and then warned, “You can’t trust a pirate, Reyne.”

“You were working with pirates when I met you, Sixx,” Reyne said.

“That’s why I know you can’t trust them,” Sixx replied.

“All right,” Reyne said after Doc and Throttle arrived. “It’s time to talk.”

Reyne began. “Ever since the Genics contract, we’ve been set up, lied to, threatened, and shot at. That changes now.”

He held up the tablet. “This holds the secret to the success of the Uprising as well as retribution for Ice Port and Sol Base.”

Utter silence.

Then, Boden pounded his fist on the table. “Whatever your plan is, I’m in.”

Reyne held up his hand. “Hold on. You don’t know where I’m going with this yet.” He paused. “We know the CUF is fractured. Vym’s working with at least one of the CUF’s commandants. In fact, she wanted me to get this device into hands of a particular dromadier officer.”

The room broke out in an uproar.

Throttle crossed her arms. “Hell, no.”

Reyne’s brows rose. “Hell, no, you don’t think we should do it?”

Throttle’s eyes narrowed. “If Vym thinks getting that device to a dromadier helps the Uprising, I’m in. Hell, no, I mean, for you thinking about going it alone.”

“I never said that, but—”

“Just give up already,” Sixx said with an exaggerated eye roll. “We go where you go. Especially if it’s dangerous.”

“You know I’m always with you,” Doc said.

“I already said I was in,” Boden grumbled.

“I’m in,” Demes said.

Reyne scanned the faces in the room, pride filling his heart. “Okay, then. I guess our next step is to figure out a way to get the tablet to this commandant without getting blown to bits in the process.”

“That sounds like a challenge,” Sixx said.

“Hold up,” Reyne continued. “We’re not going in until we know what’s on that tablet. That’s where our handy tech comes into play. Demes here has made a copies of the data, but it’s encrypted. So, as soon as the CUF clears out of Playa, we’re going to bring the Honorless here where he can decrypt the files for us.”

“How’s the Honorless going to get here?” Demes asked. “The Coast is sitting behind a drone barricade right now.”

Reyne chuckled. “If Critch can’t get through a few drones and a half dozen warships, I’ve thoroughly overestimated him.”

“Didn’t I just say you can’t trust a pirate?” Sixx asked, exasperated. “I’m surprised he hasn’t decrypted and sold the data already.”

Boden chimed in. “What’s going to keep Critch from killing all of us the moment he has the tablet?”

“Critch may be a pirate, but he’s also a torrent. If Vym gives herself up to the CUF, he’s in charge of the Uprising. He going to need all the help he can get, even if it means working with the traitor of Terra.”

“What if he changes his mind?” Sixx asked.

“We’ll drift him.”

Chapter Sixteen

Truth in Words

The bombing didn’t stop until long after dark, deep into the dead hours. Reyne tried to ignore the phase cannons by keeping busy, but every blast made his breath catch and his heart ache. When the bombardment finally ended, he stood and waited for more. He stood for never-ending minutes and waited. When hope filled him that the hellfire raining down on Ice Port was finally over, he hustled to the bridge.

Throttle was napping. Demes was busy working, and Reyne worried what secrets the tech was sifting through now, but he brushed past the pirate and to his captain’s chair. Immediately, he scanned the Ice Port channels for chatter, but the constant loud static meant that drones were still in place.

And so the waiting game began.

Three days later, the drones finally pulled out from Playa’s orbit, and the static cleared from all channels. Unfortunately, the static was replaced by silence. Reyne repeatedly tried to reach Vym, with no success. He sent a message to Kason, who he hoped had stayed on Alluvia after United Day, but had still to receive a response.

The only good news was that Demes was able to get word to Critch, who would reach Ice Port in less than two days at jump speed.

And so the waiting game continued.

When the Honorless landed at Tulan Base, it filled up the expanse. For a moment, Reyne considered the possibility that the ship would never make it through the cavern entrance, but the all-black ship sailed through with a few feet to spare on each side. It taxied and parked alongside the Gryphon, dwarfing the smaller gray ship.

Demes jumped from the station he sat at in the control room and stood alongside Reyne and watched. Reyne could sense the excitement rolling off the young pirate. “Go on, get those files decrypted.”

Demes jogged outside toward the Honorless, meeting Critch and several crew members as they emerged. They stopped and spoke for several seconds before Demes continued to pirate ship.

Reyne waited until the pirate reached him, and opened the door. “Welcome to Tulan Base.”

Critch stepped inside and looked around, and Reyne could tell the man was trying to figure out how he hadn’t known about a base this size. “You could’ve killed Demes and kept this place all to yourself.”

“I could have.”

“I assume the torrents I left in your care are still breathing?”

Reyne nodded. “They’ve been helping get this place back up and running. Most of them are pretty decent workers. Right now, they’re in the lower levels, freshening up the living quarters. They like to stay where it’s warmer.”

“They’re used to worlds ten times warmer than here,” Critch said. “It sounds like you’re setting up to play house here. While I’ll admit it would make an excellent smugglers’ stop, what exactly do you plan to do with this base?”

Reyne motioned around him. “Welcome to the Playa base of operations for the new Uprising.”

If Critch’s expression matched his thoughts, he didn’t believe Reyne. “You believe in the Uprising now?”

“Always have.”

Critch watched him for a moment. “Somehow, I suspect you didn’t bring me just so Demes could use his gear.”

“You’re right, though I won’t know if your trip was worth it until Demes is done decrypting the files.” Reyne nodded in the direction of the Honorless. “I’m guessing a ship that size has at least one hovercraft for getting around the surface.”

“You haven’t been to Ice Port yet,” the pirate said, a hollow intonation to his voice.

Reyne swallowed. “We wanted to look for survivors, but we don’t have any ground transport. That’s one thing sorely lacking in this base.”

Critch shook his head. “Don’t bother. There aren’t any survivors. We scanned the surface from orbit.”

“Most of Ice Port is below ground. You wouldn’t pick up heat signatures.”

The pirate’s lips thinned. He may have frowned, but his features were hard to make out through the scars.

Reyne stood firm.

He sighed. “No one drives my lander except me.”

“I’ll have my crew show your men around while we’re gone,” Reyne said. “They’ll help you refuel. After that, there’s plenty of stuff around here they can find for your crew to do.”

Critch grunted, turned around, and headed out the door.

Reyne followed him to the ship, up the ramp, and onto the Honorless. He unsnapped his holster, ready to draw his gun the moment the man tried something. Once he entered the ship, his step faltered. The Honorless wasn’t just a pirate ship. It was a state-of-the-art ship that looked every bit ready to go to war. The hallways were lined with weapons and gear. “I take it you don’t get stopped by CUF patrols often.”

Critch kept walking. “They’re easy to avoid if you know what to look for. Even stealth can be tracked with the right sensors. This way.” He opened a thick door and headed down metal stairs.

Docked within the belly of the ship sat a hovercraft easily the size of Vym’s. It was set up differently, though. Instead of rows of seats, the back was a large flatbed, making it ideal for transporting contraband.

Critch climbed into the pilot’s seat and buckled in. Reyne had barely climbed onto his seat and shut the passenger door when the engine started and the craft lifted off the floor. Critch hit a button, and a ramp door on the Honorless opened. The pirate wasted no time in taking the hovercraft down the ramp and onto the runway.

Reyne held on and buckled in. They didn’t speak as they sped down the runway and burst out into daylight. Reyne looked over to see the pirate wear a pissed off expression. “You hate me that bad, huh.”

Critch turned a hard eye on Reyne. “I don’t hate you. I see you as a risk to the Uprising. The same way that bio-terrorist attack was a blight on Sol Base, Aramis Reyne is a blight on the fringe. You are a reminder how a single man was able to take down the Uprising.”

Reyne turned away. He’d received various levels of animosity across the fringe for the past two decades. Most, he could brush off. But, Critch had been his best friend once. A man he’d taken under his wing because he’d seen a reflection of his own passion in that man’s eyes. Critch’s candor left a sword tip burrowed deep in Reyne’s heart.

“I hated you once,” Critch added. “When I learned that you gave up our location, and I had to watch thousands of men and women get slaughtered. Eventually, I realized you taught me a valuable lesson. You taught me that no one could ever be trusted, no matter how close they are to you. I have to hand it to you, Reyne. You were a damn good actor. You had me fooled that you believed in the Uprising.”

“I believed in it as much as you did. I still do.”

Critch chuckled in a way that sounded like he didn’t believe Reyne one bit. “I should be thanking you. That lesson helped make me the richest pirate in the fringe.”

Reyne pursed his lips. “I don’t want to waste my energy looking over my shoulder all the time because I can’t trust you. I’d rather spend my energy on something productive. The Collective has treated colonists like scum for too long. I plan to change that, even if I have to fly right through the space barrier and bring the fight to Myr. We made a good team once, and I know that it will take both of us, united, to give this new Uprising a chance. I’m asking for a second chance to work together and see that the Uprising is done right this time around.”

He chortled. “I’m a pirate. We don’t give first chances, let alone second chances.” He pondered his next words. “But, I’ll give your proposal some consideration.”

“You do that,” Reyne said. He could make out Ice Port on the horizon, and he leaned forward. Only, the horizon had changed. Where the massive space dock had climbed into the clouds, a pile of twisted metal and stone lay.

Ice Port had few structures above ground due to its extreme weather, but there were no signs of those buildings. Even the slopes of the caves and caverns that sheltered the city’s stores and homes lay flat. “No wonder they bombed the colony for so long.”

“They wanted to be thorough,” Critch said. “Fucking CUF.”

As they approached the city, Reyne could make out no sign of civilization from the rubble. No stationhouse, no streets, no entrances to the cavernous underground.

Critch slowed down, but the scenery never changed. The utter destruction was worse than anything Reyne had ever seen during the first Uprising. The CUF wiped Ice Port completely off Playa.

Reyne found it hard to breathe through the heaviness settling in his chest. “Let’s head back.”

Demes was waiting for them on the Honorless when they returned to Tulan Base.

“Tell me you got it,” Reyne said curtly.

Demes glanced at Critch.

“No,” Reyne said, his hand on his holster. “You’re showing both of us the data. Now.”

Demes’ eyes widened, and he shot a glance to Critch.

“You heard him,” Critch grumbled. “Show us.”

Demes led the way to the crew quarters, and to the young pirate’s bunk. Technology components scattered all about the floor.

He sat down at his desk. “There’s a lot of data here, and I’m not sure how useful it is. I’ve decrypted it all, but much of it is in code speak. Messages to and from some group Stationmaster Patel was involved with. They called themselves the Founders. They all went by strange names. She went by the name, Seamstress.”

Reyne furrowed his brow in confusion. He turned to Critch to see the pirate just as confused. “That’s what Vym was hiding?”

“It can’t be tied with the original group. They disappeared centuries ago,” Critch said.

Reyne leaned forward. “Demes, are you sure that’s what they called themselves?”

“Yeah, sure. The most recent message was from the day of the Ice Port attack.”

“I always had my suspicions,” Reyne said. “It helps explain a lot of things.”

Critch took a deep breath. “Well, Reyne. It appears we’ve both been played.” He then turned to Demes who was watching both captains with an inquisitive expression. “The Founders is an organization even older than the Collective. They were wealthy Alluvians and Myrads who pulled strings to shape the Collective how they saw fit. After the War, when the CUF was formed, they were hunted down. If any remained, they just faded away.”

Reyne asked, “If they still exist, would they be our allies or our enemies.”

Both captains turned to Demes, and Critch spoke. “What’s the data say?”

“Well, you’d better pull up chairs,” Demes said. “It’ll take a while.

Four hours later, Reyne and Critch stood in the pirate’s quarters, having left Demes with instructions to begin running searches to see if he could find out who any other Founders were.

Critch opened a bottle of bourbon and poured a glass half full and took a seat.

Reyne took in the Spartan quarters while Critch drank the expensive alcohol, noticing the sharp contrast between the two extremes.

“Now, I understand where Vym was coming from,” Reyne said. “We have to stop Myr, or else we’re looking at a full-out war.”

Critch looked up from his glass. “We don’t stand a chance in war against Myr. They’ll slaughter anyone foolish enough to try.”

“If we don’t stop Myr, they’ll take control of the fringe stations,” Reyne said. “Whoever controls the fringe controls the Collective. The Uprising has always been about gaining equal rights in parliament. But, it’s bigger than that now.”

“They push too hard, everyone will rebel.”

“The blight changes all that. Thanks to Vym’s data, we know they already have a fungicide to kill the blight. They can clear out the fringe stations and bring in stationmasters loyal to Myr. The only places that may be safe are Playa and the Space Coast since Myr’s made it clear they have no financial interest in either. The fringe stations on Darios, Spate, and Terra will all be at risk since they bring a profit to the Collective.”

“Stopping the blight has to be our first priority.” Reyne continued. “My guess is that they planned to try out the blight on Ice Port. When that backfired, they had to up the ante and involve the CUF. Their plan is obvious now that I’ve seen Vym’s messages. But, I still can’t get it through my head that the Founders still exist and still think they can control the Collective.”

“They could be a powerful ally,” Critch said. “But, they see us fringe as only pawns. We’d never be able to trust them.”

Reyne almost smirked at his mention of trust. “Unfortunately, we may need them to go against Myr.”

Critch shook his head. “Too risky. You saw the messages. Vym was going against the Founders. If they wouldn’t support her, what makes you think they’d support us?”

“Then, our only option is to convince Alluvia to join our cause, except they’ve never sided with the fringe before.” A smile tugged at Reyne’s lips. “Vym was right. We have to get her tablet to the Arcadia.”

Critch downed his drink and refilled his glass. “Exactly how do you propose we do that? My ship is made for avoiding warships, not becoming a bulls-eye in front of one.”

“We won’t have to. I’m sure your man Demes can figure out how to send a message from Seamstress to Baker to arrange a meeting.”

The man’s eyes narrowed as he considered it. “Where do you propose we meet him? Here?”

“At Tulan Base? Hell, no. This is the last place I want anyone associated with the CUF to know about. I was thinking that Nova Colony would be neutral territory.”

Critch barked out a laugh. “You expect a CUF commandant to make it to Nova Colony without getting killed?”

“Yes.”

The pirate thought for a long moment and took a drink. “I’ll let Demes know. If this Baker doesn’t get himself killed on the way to the meeting, it could be an interesting conversation.”

Reyne found himself smiling.

“What?” Critch asked.

Reyne looked up. “I finally realized something.”

“What’s that?”

“The Gryphon and her crew are all dead. We’ve been killed by the CUF during the bombing of Ice Port.”

“How is that good news?”

Reyne’s grin widened. “Because they’ll never be expecting us when we rise from the dead and strike back.”

Chapter Seventeen

Faded Liaisons

Heid

Heid lounged in her quarters as the Arcadia made its slow way to meet up with the Trinity along with the rest of the CUF fleet between Alluvia and Myr. She could’ve been there days ago, but chose instead to set a long course at sub speed.

She needed the time to think.

Her comm chimed again. The fourth time in under an hour. She didn’t need to look to know it was from her first officer. She ignored the ping, already knowing exactly what the request would be. Laciam was growing anxious and hounded the commandant to move the Arcadia to jump speed, but the Myrad wasn’t commandant…yet.

Once the Arcadia reached the rest of the fleet, Heid would lose her command, giving Ausyar another warship to use against anyone who chose to oppose his bid for power. If she refused, it meant becoming a mutineer to the CUF as well as to the Founders, both of which had meant everything to her.

But, not anymore.

Mason had made his intentions clear the night of Sebin’s initiation. She wasn’t to disobey Ausyar’s orders because her sedition could force Alluvia to choose between protecting one of their own—a senior dromadier officer—or allowing Ausyar to hunt down the Arcadia and kill Heid and anyone else who chose to follow her. He’d called her foolish for even arguing with him.

However, Myr had also made their intentions clear the moment they created the blight. It had been pure luck when Mariner intercepted word of Myr’s plan to use it at Ice Port to quell dissension. The Three Founders believed that by unleashing that same package at the same Genics facility in which it was created, that Myr would rethink its strategy and back down. Instead, the attack had the opposite effect. Myr pushed up their plans to disrupt all imports from the fringe stations and take control of parliament.

Even now, after the destruction of Sol Base and Ice Port, Mason refused to act outright. He wanted the Founders to stay in the shadows, guiding change with a twist of an arm here or an assassination there. The War—their greatest achievement—had brought Myr and Alluvia together. When they orchestrated the first Uprising in an attempt to bring peace across the Collective, they discovered the fringe brought too many players to control, which led to mistakes being made. The Founders had very nearly failed in preventing the fringe from upsetting the balance.

Heid had been born during the early days of the Uprising. She had few memories of what happened. Everything she learned was from her father, and she was an excellent student. She understood the need for shadow games. Unlike Mason, she also knew the time for shadow games was long past.

She tried to convince Mason, but he never listened to anything she had to say. She wasn’t the only one. Aeronaut had voiced Seamstress’ plan, which included forming a new Uprising. While Aeronaut was ever the diplomat, Mason was strongly against Seamstress’ actions. Heid wondered what role, if any, Mason played in Ice Port’s undoing. After all, Mason had proved on multiple occasions that he had no qualms sacrificing lives if it served his purpose.

Heid wasn’t blind. She knew Mason—and possibly the Founders as a whole—no longer had the Collective’s wellbeing in mind. Over the past twenty years, she’d seen egos swell and ambitions rise.

She had a decision to make. She could wait for Mason to support her CUF mutiny, but she suspected that support would never come. Or, she could follow the message she’d received from Seamstress to see where it led.

She read the encrypted message for the hundredth time.

Baker – I’m interested in ordering a cake for my daughter’s birthday party. Would like to see your catalog. Please join me for dinner at Nova Colony at 28720319.2530. My treat. – Seamstress

Heid chuckled. She’d received plenty of messages from Seamstress in the past. The old Founder had been trying relentlessly to recruit Baker for a new Uprising, mistakenly convinced that if Baker joined her cause, Mason and the Alluvian branch would follow. Seamstress never understood that Mason would sacrifice Baker without hesitation, if it suited his endgame.

As for the message, Heid knew there was no way it came from Seamstress. For one thing, she suspected Vym Patel was dead. From what she’d heard about the Trinity’s attack on Ice Port, there would be few, if any, survivors. The second and more telling sign was that this message had too much style for Seamstress’ usual bluntness.

That “she” wanted to meet in person was a third red flag. Founders in different branches only met in person for ceremonies. Meetings put each other at risk in case one Founder’s cover was compromised.

And, then there was the location for the meeting. Nova Colony was outside Collective control, and there was no Founder stationed there. Aeronaut tried multiple times, but had never succeeded in identifying a candidate.

Heid could only assume Seamstress handed her tablet off to someone, which was against every Founder protocol. Even then, no one should’ve been able to access the message system. Someone had managed to hack through the encryption walls—an impossible task making Heid all the more curious.

Who was behind the message? Were they using intel they acquired to wipe out the Founders one-by-one? Was Baker first on their list? Or, did they have something else planned?

Heid didn’t contact Mason to see if anyone else had received a similar invitation. She knew Mason would order her to disregard the message, and he’d get involved, destroying any chance she had at finding answers.

She smiled even as nervous chills flitted across her skin. She made her decision. She was sick of being played by Mason. Her response was brief.

Seamstress – Dinner sounds lovely. See you then. – Baker

She took a deep breath, slid the tablet into her pocket, and headed straight to the bridge. As soon as she entered, Laciam jumped to his feet. “Commandant, I’ve been wanting to talk with you.”

“One moment.” She walked over to the navigator. “Nolin, set a course to fringe sector seven-seven-seven-three-zero-five. On our way there, locate a fringe ship for a standard dock check.”

“Yes, sir.”

“What are you doing?” Laciam fumed. “We’re under orders to immediately return to the fleet. You’re intentionally delaying our trip. If you change course, you’re disobeying a direct order from the corps general.”

“Watch your tone, First Officer,” Heid responded calmly. “I’m will continue to carry out my duties as a commandant in the Collective Unified Forces until we reach the fleet. Feel free to lodge a complaint with Reinhardt, who will see that it gets posted. Until then, I expect you to continue to do your damn job.”

“Yes, sir,” Laciam said stiffly.

“You’re dismissed.”

He headed off the bridge without another word, and she knew he was walking straight to his quarters to draft an exceptionally detailed complaint, or—more likely—continue a draft he began hours ago. She knew she would have to deal with Laciam soon and Ausyar’s directive after that. First, she needed to meet this Seamstress, and she needed a fringe ship to do it.

Chapter Eighteen

Distant Dreams

Reyne pounded on the door to Critch’s quarters in Tulan base.

“Hold on, for chrissakes,” came a voice from the other side. After the sound of shuffling, the pirate opened the door.

“Pack up,” Reyne said without any sort of welcome. “Baker replied. The meeting’s on. The Gryphon is launching within the hour.”

“The Honorless will lead the way.” Critch slammed the door shut.

Reyne scowled at the closed door before heading to the control room, where he left instructions for the torrents who were remaining on the base. He then pinged Sixx on his comm. “Wake up, sunshine. Get to the ship for immediate departure.”

Sixx mumbled something Reyne couldn’t make out but assumed it was a verbal nod. He wasn’t about to go looking for the man. Sixx had slept with at least two of the torrents already, and who knew where he’d slept last night. Evidently, now that they weren’t all cooped up on the ship together, Sixx found them less annoying.

Throttle, Boden, and Doc all stayed in their bunks on the Gryphon, not trusting Critch’s crew or the torrents at Tulan Base. Reyne broadcast to the ship as soon as he stepped onboard. “Heads up, crew. Prep the ship for departure. We’re going back to the Coast.”

The first person to enter the hallway was one of Critch’s crew, hopping as he pulled on his boots. A man whose name Reyne couldn’t remember, not that he tried to. The pirate brushed past Reyne.

“You better hurry,” Reyne said. “Your ride is powering up as we speak.”

Doc’s door was left open, and Reyne peeked inside to find her tugging on clothes, her hair a disheveled mess. His brow rose. “Wild night, huh?”

She gave a weak smile and pulled her hair into a ponytail. “Pirates,” she said as if that single word was explanation enough.

He headed down the hallway. Since Sixx was inside the base, Reyne knew no one else had a “sleepover” on the ship. Poor Throttle only had eyes for Boden, who only had eyes for sweet soy. The man was currently in between bouts with his sweet soy addiction, making him bearable to be around and a talented mechanic. When he was on the soy, that was another story. He’d lead Throttle on one minute and crush her heart the next. The guy was a bastard when he was high. After the last binge, Reyne had given him an ultimatum. Stay clean or get off the ship. Fortunately, Boden had been staying clean so far.

Reyne sure hoped Boden stayed that way, because he had no idea where he’d find another mechanic who would be willing to work for Aramis Reyne, the fringe’s most notorious traitor and torrent marshal…again.

Sixx rushed onto the ship, the circles under his eyes conveying how little sleep the man had gotten the night before. “It’s too damn cold out there,” he said through shivers.

“Where’s your coat?” Reyne asked.

Sixx gave an exasperated sigh. “Kristen was sleeping on it. I didn’t want to wake her.”

“Who’s Kristen?”

“She’s the one with purple hair.”

“Ah.” Not that Reyne cared. “Get back to the cargo hold to make sure everything’s ready for take-off.”

Sixx headed down the hallway the opposite direction of Reyne, who headed toward the bridge. Throttle wheeled out of her quarters at the same time Reyne reached her door.

“So, we’re going to the Coast again?” she asked.

Reyne couldn’t miss the anticipation in her eyes. “Yes. We’ll be flying with the Honorless.”

“Ooh, maybe we can fly formation,” she said, and wheeled quickly ahead of him.

His heart twisted with love and sorrow for her. A girl with a passion for adventure imprisoned in a broken body. When she was young, he’d told her he’d get her spine fixed. But, neural repair was expensive, and credits were hard to come by. First, it was a cracked propulsion system. Then, it was a snapped solar sail. Big expense after big expense popped up, and Reyne had never managed to buy the one thing he wanted Throttle to have more than anything.

She never complained, though. If anything, not having the use of her legs made her work harder at flying. She was the best pilot Reyne had seen. With her skill, she could’ve been making thousands of credits a month piloting a Collective ship. He’d even hinted at that more than once. But, she made it clear. She wouldn’t leave until they saved the fringe.

She’d always been an idealistic girl.

Little could he have guessed she’d get her chance.

From the bridge, he could see the Honorless had already initiated their launch sequence. A row of ten lights on the launch pad were down seven lights already. The engines of the larger ship reverberated through the Gryphon, which sat next in queue for launch.

The launch pad sat at the bottom of a long since dead volcano, from a time long before Playa’s surface froze. Reyne assumed Vym had been the caretaker of this base, keeping it functional and even upgrading the technology throughout the years. She must’ve used this base regularly to warrant such a cost. He wondered if she used the based purely for her personal less-than-legal activities or if she’d had grander plans for it. Though, he supposed he’d now never learn that answer.

When the last light blinked out on the countdown sequence, the slingshot launcher threw the ship upward at ten-plus Gs, and the engines of the Honorless roared. The slingshot was an old technology that was reliable and torturous to use. Most crews blacked out on take-off from these launch pads, having to rely completely on auto-pilots. Critch, Reyne suspected, had his eyes wide open and hands at the controls the entire time.

As soon as the Honorless was away, Reyne keyed in control of the launch pad system.

“Pre-launch completed,” Throttle said. “I’m punching in coordinates to the Coast now.”

Reyne nodded. He pinged Boden. “How are we on engines?”

“Green light.”

“Good.” He then announced to the ship, “Buckle in. We’re up for launch.”

Reyne initiated the launch sequence. A conveyor belt transferred the Gryphon onto the launch pad as gears locked back into place. All ten lights lit up on the countdown, dropping down to nine lights almost immediately.

“The ship is yours,” Reyne said to Throttle.

“Powering up nav engines,” Throttle said.

The small engines purred, and Reyne checked the sensors. “All green.”

The countdown went down to eight lights.

“Powering up Flux engine,” she said.

Reyne checked the sensors once again. “Green.”

The countdown went down to seven lights.

“Cycling propulsion system.”

“Green.”

Six lights.

“Approving flight plan,” she said.

Five lights.

“Running final checks on life support.”

“Green,” Reyne said.

Four lights.

“Running final checks on electrical.”

“Green.”

Three lights.

“Running final checks on mechanical.”

“Green.”

Two lights.

“Running final checks on all gears.”

“Solar sails green. Landing green,” Reyne said.

One light.

“Approved for launch. Party time.”

The final light went off, and Throttle initiated the launch. All High-G launches required auto-pilot enabled as backup, but it never kicked on when Throttle was at the controls. With everything entered into the system, the Gryphon shot straight upward. Reyne grunted to retain consciousness, his body slammed against the back of his seat. Blackness tunneled his vision, and he fought to watch his panel to make sure no critical systems went red.

Within seconds, all pressure disappeared.

“We’re free of the atmosphere,” Throttle said, breathing heavily.

“Well done.” Reyne took a moment to run full system checks. “Everything’s green. We’re ready for jump speed.” A flash of light came from the Honorless engines as it went to jump speed right before them. His eyes narrowed. “Catch up to the Honorless. Don’t let them get too much of a lead.”

“Believe me, I won’t,” she said. “I’m running pre-jump sequence—oh, sweet Sabra. It’s all gone.”

Reyne glanced over to see Throttle staring at the view screen. She had the aft monitors on screen, showing Playa’s surface. While the clouds hid much of the surface, he could see everything was as still and lifeless as he’d seen on his hovercraft trip with Critch.

He clenched his teeth. “We’ll make sure Ice Port will have her payback.”

Chapter Nineteen

Three Captains

Reyne was damn proud of Throttle. She kept the Honorless within visual sight all the way back to Nova Colony’s docks. Of course, Critch could’ve easily outrun them if he wanted—he had twice the power—but he’d didn’t, likely because Reyne still held the tablet and the only way to contact the CUF commandant.

After they docked, Reyne left everyone except Sixx on board in case Baker brought trouble along. Sixx, he took with him, as protection against both the dromadier and Critch’s people, who seemed to populate the entire Colony.

“We’ll hold the meeting in my office,” Critch said, hardly giving them a glance.

“Real nice guy,” Sixx said to Reyne after the pirate and several of his crew walked ahead.

Reyne nodded and they followed Critch into the Uneven Bar and out the back door, through the kitchen, down a wide hallway with crates stacked against both walls, and finally came to another door.

Critch entered a long code on the wall panel. The lock clicked, and the door swung open. He strolled inside, followed by three of his crew, including the one who’d left Doc’s bunk in a rush that morning, and lastly, Reyne and Sixx.

As soon as they entered, Sixx took up a position between Reyne and Critch’s crew. If the crew tried anything, Reyne would almost feel sorry for what Sixx would do to them. Almost.

Reyne turned his attention to take in the simple room. The first time he’d been here, he had a hellish headache and didn’t expect to leave it alive. Now, he could appreciate the setup. It was large, spacious enough for the entire crew of the Honorless to sit at the stone table that took up half the room. The other half was open space, with only a rilon desk. A luxurious leather-like chair sat behind the desk and two smaller chairs faced it. A single painting decorated the wall behind the desk, and Reyne instantly recognized the black-rocked Terran landscape where Critch had been born.

The pirate took a seat behind the desk and powered on the panel that covered much of the desk’s surface. “I have a direct line to the docks,” he said. “We’ll know the moment this ‘Baker’ arrives. If you’d prefer to pass the time at the bar—”

“I’ll stay here.” Reyne took a seat across from Critch. “That way, you won’t forget to notify me when our friend lands.”

Critch’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t say anything. He hit a comm on the side of the desk. “Send in a meal for six.”

“Right away, boss,” came an immediate response.

He gave Reyne a direct look. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Reyne put his boots up on the desk. “Don’t mind if I do.” He watched Critch ignore him for the ten minutes it took before several attractive waitresses delivered six trays. His mouth watered at his tray of mashed philoseed, cavote pudding, and… “Real meat? How’d you manage to get that out here on the Coast?”

Critch grabbed a fork and knife and began cutting into his steak. “We have a farm in Nova Colony. It raises both goats and chickens. It’s been quite productive.” Then he tacked on, “And highly profitable.”

Reyne went for the meat first. “Critch, you crusty ole pirate, you may have a few surprises in you yet.”

The six of them ate in silence, with only the sound of silverware on plates. Reyne didn’t mind one bit. The last time he had meat was during the Uprising back on Terra. He and Critch had come across a farm that had been bombed by the CUF, and they rounded up the injured animals and feasted like kings that night.

Things had changed a lot since then. And yet, it seemed they were coming full circle.

Not long after they finished, the waitresses returned for the trays. Critch became intrigued by something on the screen. He tapped his comm. “Intercept whoever leaves that ship, and bring them to me. And, keep a close eye on that ship. If it does anything even remotely suspicious, puncture its hull.”

“Yes, sir.”

Reyne’s brows rose, wondering if Critch had given similar instructions regarding the Gryphon.

Critch leaned back in his chair. “The Ocelot is on my payroll. She’s supposed to be picking up a shipment of blue tea on Spate right about now.”

“I take it that ship isn’t one to just drop by the Coast unexpected,” Reyne said.

“Never.”

Reyne leaned forward to watch. Everything was upside down from his vantage point, but he could still see clearly. Several of Nova Colony’s police force marched to the Ocelot. A single person in a suit walked down the ramp and was quickly surrounded. The herd moved to the pressurization chamber, and Critch swiped his hand across the panel, and a video of the chamber came into view.

Once the moisture cloud dissipated, the newcomer removed his helmet.

Critch motioned to the screen. “I know the captain of the Ocelot, and Miko has never been that good looking.”

“That’s Heid,” Reyne said.

“He’s a she?”

Reyne nodded. He continued to watch Commandant Heid be escorted into Nova Colony. Critch switched videos again, and they watch her walk into Uneven Bar, where everyone turned to look.

“I know that feeling,” Reyne muttered.

Unlike Reyne had been, Heid wasn’t attacked, likely because no one knew she was a CUF officer, only that she was too clean-cut to be a Coaster. She didn’t wear a chimesuit, and Reyne suspected she was wearing a spacesuit from the Ocelot’s crew. When Heid reached Critch’s door, Reyne turned to see her enter.

“Leave us,” Critch ordered. The police leader nodded, and he and his posse departed.

Heid stood there. Recognition lit her features. “Why am I not surprised to see you, Captain Reyne,” she said.

“You shouldn’t be. After all, you put a tracker on my ship.”

Her brows shot up in surprise before she regained her composure. “I like to keep an eye on potential allies.”

“Spying is not a good way to build a relationship,” Reyne said. “Neither is bombing fringe stations.”

Her lips thinned.

“I’m impressed,” Critch said. “You made it here alive. I wonder if I can say the same about the captain and crew of the ship you came in on.”

She cocked her head at the pirate. “I suppose I have you to thank for the welcome party skulking around the Coast?” She lifted her chin. “I command a CUF warship. How hard do you think it is for me to confiscate a fringe ship?” When Critch continued to stare, she continued. “Captain Miko and his crew are alive and well and enjoying the fine amenities the Arcadia has to offer in return for my use of the Ocelot.”

She smiled. “So tell me, why have I been invited to a reunion of old torrent marshals?”

Reyne glanced at Critch before turning back to her. “I take it you know this fine gentleman. I’d like to formally introduce Critch, captain of the Honorless.”

“Critch, pirate and smuggler, with at least six death sentences on your head.” Heid gave Critch an appraising gaze. “However, you’re also known as Drake Fender, infamous torrent marshal of the Uprising, who served with the even more infamous torrent marshal, Aramis Reyne. Somehow, I have a feeling this little meeting has more to do about rebellion than smuggling.”

Reyne cleared his throat and motioned to Heid. “Critch, have the pleasure of the company of Commandant Gabriela Heid, captain of the CUF warship Arcadia.”

Critch leaned forward. “I thought you’d be older.”

“And I thought you’d be prettier,” she snapped back.

Reyne leaned back with enjoyment. “I see you two are going to get along splendidly.”

Critch turned to their crew members still in the room. “Leave us.”

Sixx eyed Reyne who nodded, and he followed the pirates out.

“Now, let’s get down to business,” Critch said.

Heid began. “If you have her tablet, that means she keyed it to not self-destruct when it was taken more than ten feet away from her. That confirms my suspicions that she’s dead. That, plus, you knew enough to call me Baker, which means you already know far too much for your own good.”

“You know, Critch, I think that sounds an awful lot like a threat,” Reyne mused.

“I agree. I don’t like threats.”

“Not a threat, but a warning,” she said. “There are those who would kill you for what you’ve discovered.”

“Many have tried to kill me in the past,” Critch said. “None have succeeded.”

“Yet. None have succeeded yet,” she cautioned. “The Founders have many resources. You need to be careful.”

Reyne spoke. “And, I suppose it’s safe to assume your friends know about us soon if they don’t already.”

Heid held up her hands. “They won’t learn from me, assuming we reach some sort of arrangement.”

“Exactly what sort of arrangement do you propose?” Reyne asked smoothly.

“I propose an arrangement where we don’t work at killing each other.” She strolled over to the desk and took a seat in the chair next to Reyne. She didn’t speak for a long moment, as though contemplating her next words. “The Collective is in jeopardy. If we act now, the colonists can become citizens. If we fail to act, the Collective will implode and many lives will be lost.”

Critch’s eyes narrowed. “You’re a citizen already. Why do you care what happens to us colonists?”

“Because, contrary to mass media, Alluvia and Myr need the fringe far more than you need them,” Heid replied. “We depend on the fringe for much of our food and raw material. Right now, Myr is making its move to take control of the fringe stations.” She paused. “You know this already or else you wouldn’t have bothered to contact me.”

Reyne examined the woman. “You released the blight at Genics Corp, so I know you’re not afraid of getting involved.”

“So, why didn’t you stop them from releasing blight at Sol Base?” Critch continued from where Reyne began. “Why didn’t you stop the bombing of Ice Port?”

Her lips thinned. “Alluvians aren’t all-powerful, and the Founders are not all-powerful. The CUF has the power to stand against Myr, but the fleet is commanded by a Myrad. A single commandant has little power.” She looked at both men. “Myr has the CUF and the blight. They will build an empire unless the rest of the Collective joins forces and stops them. I have a plan, but it will take all of us working together for it to succeed. Vym had the vision. Now, I want to see it through.”

Reyne leaned closer. “How can we trust you? How do we know that once we stop Myr that Alluvia won’t step over Myr to take over the Collective?”

She chuckled drily. “Oh, believe me. Alluvia wants control of the Collective as much as Myr does. The only difference is Myr is taking action now. I love Alluvia and I want to see my people prosper. But, what I love more is the idea of a united Collective, where everyone are equals. That was the original goal of the Founders, and it’s still my goal.”

Reyne thought hard and long. “So, tell us about this plan of yours.”

Chapter Twenty

Impossible Hope

“That’s all there is to it,” Reyne finished.

Every crew member of the Gryphon stared at him, slack-jawed.

“That’s all,” Sixx echoed.

“Yep.”

“Let me get this straight,” Throttle began. “We’re hijacking a Myrad hauler and running straight through the space barrier to land onto Myr. From there, we get our hands on proof of Myr’s involvement with the blight, which we’ll then bring into the heart of Alluvia, where we’ll get it to the news, and to get them all riled up against Myr.”

Reyne nodded. “That pretty much sums it up.”

“It’s impossible,” Sixx said.

“Which part?” Reyne asked.

Sixx’s threw out his hands. “All of it!” Then he started to count out on his fingers. “You’re not pirates. We’ve never hijacked a ship together.”

“That’s why Critch and several of his crew will be joining us. They’ll lead the hijacking expedition.”

Sixx’s eyes widened. “We’re joining up with pirates.”

“Torrents,” Reyne corrected. “They’re only pirates on their off-days.”

Sixx shook his head. “Okay. We hijack a Myrad ship. Then, we come up to the space barrier. If any of the Myrads on that ship happen to send out a distress signal during the hijacking, then their codes won’t work. The EMP will fry everything in our ship, and we’ll die a cold, suffocating death in space.”

“We’ll make sure they never get the chance to make a distress call.”

Sixx continued. “Okay then, how are we going to know where this particular Genics Corp building is?”

“We’re counting on the Founders for that.”

Doc frowned. “The Founders? They’re an urban legend. They don’t exist.”

“They do exist, and Heid seems to think she can convince one of them on Myr to help us.”

Sixx chuckled. “This just keeps getting better. Then, after a series of small miracles, we get proof of Myr’s foolishness and we bring it to Alluvia, where somehow we get approval to land at First City.”

“That’s where Boden comes into play.” Reyne watched the man’s head jerk at the mention of his name. “He’s an Alluvian resident and has full rights to land at any time.”

“But, we’re all dead, at least on records,” Sixx said. “His rights would’ve been cancelled by now.”

“Boden had been let go from my crew, and he missed our last postal run. That means he wasn’t on board when the Gryphon landed at Ice Port.” Reyne glanced back at Boden. “Sorry, pal. Demes has already entered your credentials on Spate. It appears you’ve been staying at a brothel in Devil Town on a sweet soy binge. You’ve run out of money and have already filed a new visa for landing rights to return home.”

The mechanic glowered.

“We had to make it believable in case someone digs into your records,” Reyne added. “In a rare spur of good luck, when you died the first time, your name was deleted from the terrorist watch list.”

Reyne turned back to his crew. “So, Boden will have us land at First City, where Commandant Heid will get us access to a direct hard line to the news channel’s systems. And, our little hacker buddy Demes will plug in and broadcast the truth across the city and out to the fringe. Alluvia will finally step forward and go head-to-head with Myr, hopefully preventing Myr’s hostile takeover or out-and-out war.”

“We’re aligning with the CUF now, too?” Boden asked, ire darkening his voice.

“Yes, although I suspect after this, Heid may be considered more torrent than CUF.”

“How do you know Critch or Heid won’t betray us?” Doc asked.

“Critch watched his family get slaughtered by Myrads and Alluvians on Terra before the Uprising. He may act like a pirate, but he’ll always be a torrent in his heart. As for Heid, she’s an idealist. They’ll work with us to carry out the Uprising.” Reyne considered his fellow captains for a moment. “But, don’t forget for a minute that either one of them would set us up to die if our deaths fit into their plans. We need to cover our asses every step of the way.”

“Sounds like one hell of a ménage a trois,” Sixx said.

“There are too many factions involved,” Doc said. “This will never work out. Sixx is right. It’s impossible.”

“Well, aren’t you a bunch of pessimists,” Reyne said drily. “Listen, I never said it would be easy, but if we succeed, we can save millions of lives.” No one spoke. “Come on, don’t you want to be heroes?”

“No,” Sixx replied quickly.

“Even if it means every woman in the Collective will want to sleep with you?”

“Not every woman,” Throttle added. “But, Reyne, you know that where you go, I go. I’m in.”

Boden thumped his fist against the table. “If we succeed, Alluvia will stand up to Myr. That will mean trouble for all citizens, hopefully bloodshed. I’m in.”

“No, never,” Doc said. “This is lunacy.”

Reyne eyed her. “Things could get rough out there. We could use a medic who won’t crack under pressure.”

She stood. “It’s a suicide run. We’ll all die. I won’t be party to that.”

“Count me in,” Sixx said. “Hell, I was in as soon as you mentioned hijacking.”

Doc stared at Sixx. “You’re crazy.” She looked around the table. “You’re all crazy. I will not watch you kill yourselves,” she said and stormed out of the room.

Reyne glanced at Throttle, Sixx, and Boden. “Thanks,” he said before standing and following Doc to her quarters.

She’d locked her door, but one of the perks of being captain was having an override code. He opened her door and stepped inside.

She spun around, fuming. “You are an idiot, Aramis.”

Taken aback, he held up his hands. “Whoa, there. I get that you’re scared. Hell, I am, too, but I’m not doing this out of stupidity. I’m doing this because there are no other options. If we don’t try to stop Myr, the other fringe stations will fall. If we thought things were bad when Alluvia and Myr were keeping each other in check, imagine how bad it will be when Myr gains control. We’re second-class folks today, and if that happens, we’ll all become slaves. Far worse than the tenured like Boden’s family was back on Alluvia.”

Her face tightened with rage. “I gave everything to save your life once, and now you’re throwing it away.”

Reyne frowned, confused. “You’ve saved my life plenty of times, and I’m thankful. But, my life isn’t worth living if I tuck tail and live it out as a coward.”

A tear ran down her cheek. “You always running blindly into trouble trying to save the day.”

He stood there for a long moment before pleading softly. “So, will you run with me?”

She sobbed. “Yes.” Then brushed him away. “Now get out and leave me alone.”

Reyne left her alone, though he felt like he should go back and wipe her tears away and hold her until she quit crying. Things weren’t any better in the commons room. There, Throttle was crying. Sixx had an arm wrapped around her, and Boden stared blankly at the wall.

“What’s wrong?” Reyne asked.

Sixx gave Reyne a long look before turning back to the screen. “Restart Somerville update.”

In an unexpected turn of events, an Alluvian citizen has been killed during the Ice Port bombing, meant to eliminate the bio-terrorists of the Smithton and Sol Base attacks. Kason Somerville, of the highly respected Somerville and Marion lineage, was found dead by rescue teams at Ice Port. He had holdings on all six worlds, and was believed to be on a routine visit when the attack happened. Corps General Michel Ausyar has offered his sincerest apologies to Somerville’s family and has vowed to do everything in his power to protect citizen lives as they continue investigations into the bio-terrorist faction, led by Vym Patel, that has now taken both Myrad and Alluvian lives. This is Lina Tao reporting for DZ-Five, your Collective news source.

“No,” Reyne said as he watched helplessly as a video of a smiling Kason walked across the screen. “Damn it. Why didn’t he stay on Alluvia?”

“It doesn’t make sense,” Boden said. “How’d he make it back to Ice Port so soon after United Day? Even at full jump speed, it doesn’t add up.”

“Maybe he got stuck at Ice Port for business and never made it home?” Throttle offered.

Boden shook his head. “I saw him off. I would’ve heard from him if something happened.”

“I’d bet every credit I own that the CUF bastards killed him because of that package,” Sixx said. “Everything hit the shitter after that.”

“He was a citizen.” Throttle sniffled. “They would never kill a citizen.”

“He’s one of us,” Reyne said, and a cold rock settled into his gut as Sixx’s words rang of truth.

Boden pounded the table. “Nothing’s changed. I saw it happen to my neighbors in the tenured village. The bastards do what they want and kill anyone who gets in their way. They’ll kill us, too, if we get in their way.”

Reyne watched the mechanic, fists clenched, stomp from the room. He worried that Boden losing his best friend would send the Alluvian on a sweet soy binge. When he turned back to the rest of the crew, he noticed everyone was waiting for him to say something.

Reyne took a deep breath before speaking. “Maybe they’ll kill us. Maybe not. But, I’m damn sure not going to let them get their way without an Uprising.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Liberty Run

Heid

Heid had plenty of time to think on her trip back to the Arcadia. The Ocelot was an old hauler, made for transport and not for speed. By the time she reached her warship, she was antsy for action.

She docked to find Laciam waiting for her outside the decon room.

She gave him a wry grin. “Laciam. I’m half-surprised you didn’t try to take over the Arcadia while I was away.”

“I should have. When Sebin said you left the ship with orders to cut all engines while you took a joyride in some fringe junker, I knew you had crossed the line.”

Heid’s brow rose. “It’s not your place to understand my decisions, just as it’s not your place to question my orders. And, the Arcadia isn’t yours yet. Until we reach the fleet, you will address me as Commandant or Sir. Do I make myself understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Refuel and restock the Ocelot and escort her crew back to their ship. They’re free to go.”

“Yes, sir.”

As he strode away, she heard him mutter, “Alluvian bitch. Just wait...”

She tapped a simple command on her comm—Liberty 0747—and sent it to a select group of crew serving on the Arcadia.

As a commandant, Heid had the authority to select her own crewmembers, and she’d spent all her years aboard the Arcadia placing Alluvians loyal to her throughout the ship. By now, they comprised nearly two-thirds of her crew, the remaining positions filled by Myrads, conscripted fringe, and Alluvians who she wasn’t quite sure where their loyalties lay.

She had thirty minutes, which she used to make rounds through the hallways, making sure to be seen by her crew. Sebin met her outside the bridge.

She glanced down at her comm to see the time. One minute to go.

He nodded, and she gave a simple nod in return. Words weren’t necessary as this exercise had been prepared long ago. Adrenaline rushed through her as she stepped onto the bridge.

Laciam glanced up but didn’t acknowledge her.

“Nolin,” Heid said to her navigator. “Set a course for Terra.”

Laciam jumped to his feet. “You can’t do that!”

“Watch your tone, First Officer,” she warned.

He glared. “This madness has gone too far. You’ve spaced out. I’m declaring you unfit for duty. Something I should’ve done as soon as the corps general’s orders came in. Guards, arrest the commandant.”

Heid made eye contact with the two guards stationed on the bridge. They moved to Laciam and grabbed him instead.

She faced Laciam. “Guards, escort Laciam to the brig.”

“What?” he cried out, his blue face darkening a hue. “You can’t arrest me. This is my ship!”

“If he gives you trouble, kill him,” she added.

Heid watched as the dromadiers disarmed the officer and led him away.

Laciam called out as the guards shoved him off the bridge, “You’ll be shot for this, Heid!”

When the door closed, she turned to the five remaining crew on the bridge. Four were loyal, one—a fringe tech assistant—was an unknown. Rather than speaking to her directly, she broadcast to the entire ship. “Crew of the Arcadia. We have journeyed throughout the Collective together, and I ask you now to take another journey with me. The CUF has been usurped by a man who dreams of a Myrad empire. The CUF no longer serves the best interests of the Collective, and the entire Collective—not just Alluvia and Myr—need our help.

“The blight was the first slash at disharmony, though our leaders failed us all long before the tragic loss of Sol Base. Then came Ice Port, an innocent victim purely to be used as a scapegoat for Myr’s imperialism. In truth, the terrorists are much closer to the heart of the Collective than the colony furthest in the fringe.” She paused. “The blight and the discord and violence that has followed comes from Corps General Ausyar, who has militarized Myr’s government. He envisions a Myr Collective, just as the CUF now is under him.”

She scanned the faces on the bridge before continuing. “I refuse to let the Collective fall. As of now, I relinquish my CUF rank as commandant. I am taking the Arcadia as the flagship for the future. I will lead the Collective into a battle—not as a commandant or as a citizen—but as a captain in a Collective made of equals. If you choose to follow me, you will be marked down as CUF mutineers, but history will mark you down as heroes. I will not—I cannot—command you to follow me on this new journey. If you follow me, I promise you danger and risk, but I also promise you that you will be saving lives across the six Collective worlds by choosing to fight for the Collective rather than for Ausyar’s empire.

“I give you the choice. Anyone who does not wish to remain on the Arcadia to fight for the new Collective must let Sebin know within the next hour. Those not joining the cause for the Collective will be confined to quarters for the protection of the crew, and in two days, we will drop them off at Rebus Station on Terra where they can be picked up by a CUF patrol. Effective immediately, all communications leaving this ship will be blocked. Your one hour begins now. Choose wisely.”

Heid lowered her head and focused on breathing in and out.

“Sir?”

She looked up to find the fringe conscript standing before her. “Yes, Sylvian?”

“Did you mean it?” she asked. “That you plan to fight for the fringe?”

Heid nodded. “I plan to help the entire Collective, but it’s the fringe that needs our help the most.”

The young woman stood taller. “I’m from Sol Base. I lost my entire family to the blight. You can count on me, sir.”

Hope flared deep within Heid. “Thank you, Sylvian.” She paused. “Oh, and, you do not need to address me with any formal title. As of now, it’s safe to say I’m no longer an officer in the Collective Unified Forces.”

“You’re still our captain regardless of the insignia you wear,” Sebin said, with pride in his voice.

“Aye, captain,” said Nolin the navigator, followed by assent from the remaining bridge crew.

“Thank you.” She clapped her hands together. “Put us into stealth mode, and let’s get to work decoupling the Arcadia’s systems from fleet control.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Hypoxia and Hijackings

Throttle glared at Reyne, her arms crossed. “Like hell you’re leaving me behind.”

Reyne set down his beer and tamped the air. “I need someone to stay with the Gryphon. We need Boden for landing on Alluvia, and Doc in case someone gets hurt, and Sixx—”

“Because he can walk,” she interrupted.

“No,” Reyne said calmly. “I was going to say because he was a professional thief, and we’re breaking into someone’s house.”

Critch butted in. “Listen, Throttle. The truth hurts, but we’ll be on the planet surface and without a ship. What is a cripple going to do in a place where there are no cripples? Everyone will be looking at you, and we’ll be forced to scrub the mission.”

She’d slowly rolled over to where Critch sat as he was speaking. When he finished, she punched him. “You’re a bastard.”

“He is a bastard,” Reyne said. “But, this is a mission that will be taking place on the ground. If it was taking place in the air, you’d be the first on my team.”

Critch rubbed his cheek. “Nice right hook.” He finished off his beer, kicked off from his chair, grabbed her hand, and slapped a key onto her palm. “You have my word, no one will mess with you at Nova Colony. I also know Reyne doesn’t pay worth a shit, so stay in my guest quarters. Any food and necessities can go onto my account. Have fun, but don’t get carried away.”

“This is bullshit,” she muttered, staring at the key. She glared at Critch. “And, you’re still a bastard.”

“I know.”

Reyne forced a smile and squeezed her shoulder. “I wish it didn’t have to be this way. I know it’s not fair, but we’ll be back before you know it. You watch yourself around here. I still don’t trust Critch’s people.”

She glanced up. Where Reyne expected to see tears, he saw anger instead. “You’re lucky I don’t punch you, too.”

He swallowed. “And, I’d deserve it, too.” He kissed her forehead, turned in a rush, and walked out of the Uneven Bar before he said something stupid, like make a promise he couldn’t keep.

He fastened his helmet and stepped into the airlock that separated the docks from Nova Colony. Critch joined him, and they stood in silence as the chamber depressurized. As soon as the door opened, Reyne grabbed a zip line and flew down the docks. He refused to look at the Gryphon and headed straight to the Honorless. He didn’t slow his momentum until he reached its port door, not stopping until he hit the inner door. Critch followed and shut the door behind them. Pressurization took no more than a couple seconds, and Reyne tugged off his helmet and stepped inside. He started down the hallway to meet his crew.

Critch kept pace alongside Reyne. “I know why you’re leaving her behind.”

“Oh yeah?”

“You’re leaving her behind because you don’t think you’re coming back, and you want her to live. For what it’s worth, I think it’s the right decision. She’s young. She deserves to live more years.” They walked in silence for a while. “If you don’t make it, I’ll fix her legs.”

Reyne stopped. “Why?”

The pirate shrugged. “She’s an innocent.” He kept walking. “Plus, she’d make a solid addition to one of my crews.”

“Like hell,” Reyne said and caught up. “Besides, what makes you think you’ll get out of this alive?”

Critch grunted. “I’m too pretty to die.”

“Too ornery is more like it,” Reyne muttered and entered the commons. The room was large and comfortable and had luxuries that put the Gryphon’s central meeting room to shame. The rest of the team was already waiting for them—Sixx, Doc, and Boden from Reyne’s crew and three from Critch’s crew, with the remainder of the Honorless’ crew busy preparing for launch. Reyne recognized the trio. Demes, of course. Chutt, the scraggly pirate who Doc had slept with. Birk, one of the quieter—and least annoying—men on Critch’s crew.

Critch leaned onto the table and looked across the faces in the room. “We’re heading out in ten minutes. I’ll make this quick. It could take days or it could take weeks to find a ship we can use, which means we’ll have plenty of time to work out the details of the plan. For now, make yourselves comfortable. Once we clear the Coast, you’ll all be busy.”

A voice came over the speakers. “Strap in for take-off.”

The pirate captain smacked his hands together. “Let’s get ourselves a Myrad ship.”

Eight days later.

“Crew alert. We’re tracking a potential bogey.”

Sixx groaned. “That’s what they said the last three times.”

Reyne nodded and left Sixx to cleaning the weapons. He headed to the bridge, hoping this was it. Critch was in charge of getting them a ship, and Reyne had to trust the pirate’s judgment.

The first ship they came across was a brand new passenger ship. Too many people to deal with. The second, a Myrad patrol ship. Far too dangerous to hijack. The third was almost right. It was an older hauler, but Demes had been unsuccessful in hacking its network without a hard line.

When Reyne reached the bridge, Demes looked pleased.

“This is it. I know it,” the young pirate said. “It’s an old Eagle II. No firewalls. I’ll be tapped into her in no time.”

Critch scowled. “Eagles are heavy and slow. Made of more carbon fiber than rilon. It’s going to make for a long trip.”

“Aw, sounds like we’ll get plenty of quality time together,” Reyne said.

“Hm.” Critch glanced back to see Reyne approach before turning his attention back to Demes. “Can you hack her?”

“Hold on…just one more…got it. I’m in. I’ve got her systems. Looking for the air filtration…there you are. I’m locking them out and adjusting the oxygen levels now. There. Child’s play.” He turned around with a wide grin. “They should be hypoxic within twelve minutes.”

Reyne cocked his head, impressed at the pirates’ ingenuity. “I’d always assumed you killed the crews of the ships you hijacked.”

“We can interrogate them if they’re alive. Hypoxia is subtle. Very few crews catch on in time to don suits. Those are the ones we have to watch out for.” Critch turned back to Demes. “How many?”

“Let’s see,” Demes said. “Looks like eleven crew are logged in.”

Critch grabbed the comm. “To your stations. We’re hunting Eagle.” He slapped the pilot’s shoulder. “Take good care of her, Gabe. I’ll be back for her soon.”

“Like always,” the man said with a grin.

Critch gave Reyne a quick nod and he headed off the bridge and toward the airlock. Reyne kept pace, and Demes followed.

Doc and Chutt emerged from his bunk, both looking a bit flushed and messy.

Reyne scowled and Critch shot Chutt a hard glare, making it clear he wasn’t any happier about the Doc and Chutt’s extracurricular activities during a mission than Reyne was. Reyne understood why Doc was doing it. She used sex as a way to deal with stress. They’d never had an emotional relationship, but he also had no problem helping her out in that area.

They broke off to grab their gear and met up at the airlock. Reyne grabbed his suit and went to slide a leg in.

Critch stopped him. “Here, use this instead.” He handed Reyne two tiny oxygen bottles with nose gears. “Suits are too clumsy.”

Reyne fastened his bottle around his collar. He handed the remaining one to Sixx.

“Exactly as we planned,” Reyne said. “Boden, Doc, and Demes hang back until we clear the ship.”

“You and Sixx can also wait until we clear it,” Critch said to Reyne. “My crew has experience at this. You don’t.”

Reyne shook his head. “We’re all in this together.” Not to mention he didn’t trust Critch to not leave him behind since Boden was the only crucial member of Reyne’s team he needed.

“Never thought I’d add ‘hijacking a citizen ship’ to my resume,” Sixx said.

“You might find that you enjoy it,” Critch said and grabbed onto the wall when the Honorless attached to the other ship.

The screeching sound of rilon against rilon sent shivers through Reyne.

“They didn’t take evasive maneuvers. That’s always a good sign,” Chutt said to Doc.

Time dripped by as Birk managed the airlock controls, stretching the small area where they stood and lined it up against the port hole. Reyne gripped his proton gun, ready for action. When the light finally flicked green, Reyne took a deep breath. Birk opened the airlock door and placed an electronic unit on the Myrad ship’s door. After several seconds of blinking red and yellow lights, it flashed green.

Critch looked across everyone before pulling up his oxygen tank breather tube. Everyone quickly followed his lead. He opened the door, and jumped inside. Birk and Chutt followed him, and Reyne and Sixx covered the rear.

Once inside, they ran first to the bridge, and Reyne knew that would be to ensure no one got any bright ideas and tried to pull away while the Honorless was still attached. He was impressed by the efficiency in which the pirates moved. It reminded Reyne of fighting alongside Critch in the Uprising, and he realized that a pirate’s life wasn’t much different than a soldier’s life.

Reyne’s pace slowed as he finally understood why Critch had become a pirate. Being a pirate was the only way Critch could keep fighting the Collective without an Uprising.

Reyne moved when Sixx nudged him, and he jogged to the bridge, his arthritic knees causing him to wince. They needn’t have hurried. The eight crew members on the bridge were in various slumped positions. Chutt, Birk, and Critch were pulling them from their seats and laying them out in a row on the floor. Several were unresponsive, a few were conscious but out of it. Birk slapped a sleeping patch onto each crewmember’s neck.

Reyne and Sixx chipped in and helped lay out the crew. As they laid them out, they counted three Myrads, all with the telltale blue skin of those who’d lived on the silver-rich planet. The remaining were tenured, obvious by the electronic ID cuffs they wore. The bracelets were large, covering a third of their forearms, and a shiny silver, to make their status clear from a distance. They also would have implants in case they could break the bracelets and run. Those who attempted and were caught were punished—often by having their voice boxes fried.

The tenured, colonists who signed up to work for citizens on Myr and Alluvia in return for their children’s citizenship, often learned too late that citizenship rules had loopholes, and most children—even those born on Myr or Alluvia—never became citizens. The practice to tenure humans made Reyne sick, and it had been just one of the many reasons he’d so zealously fought for the Uprising.

“Eight down. Three to go,” Critch said. “Chutt and Sixx, move these eight to the airlock. That leaves three crew unaccounted for. Birk, you check the bunks. Reyne and I will check the rest of the ship.”

Reyne stayed at Critch’s side, covering their left and back as they moved down the hallway. This ship was a far cry from the Honorless or the Gryphon. Where those ships were pristinely clean and organized, this ship hadn’t aged well. Rubber marks marred the dented floors, and dust grew thick in corners. Boxes of food sat, unsecured, against the walls.

They bypassed the bunks, finding a single crewmember in the commons area. A Myrad, overweight from both food and puffy from sweet soy addiction, lay sprawled onto the table. Critch checked the man’s pulse. “Dead.” He tapped his comm. “One located in the commons.”

“By the looks of him, he had Myrad medicine to thank for keeping him alive,” Reyne said.

Critch nodded. “The bastard would’ve died years ago if he was fringe.” He pulled the man back and the body crumpled to the floor with a heavy thud.

“Located two incapacitated blokes in their bunks,” Birk reported.

“That should be all of them. Birk, run a final sweep of the ship,” Critch commanded.

“Wilco” came Birk’s response.

Critch replied as he picked up the half-full glass of wine that had been sitting the table. “We rarely run across crewmembers not logged into the system. The ones we do are generally hiding from the crew and more than happy to make our acquaintance.” He sniffed the contents of the glass, shrugged, and took a drink.

“The bridge has been cleared,” Chutt reported.

“Received,” Critch replied before downing the rest of the wine.

Reyne walked around the table and began to check out the cabinets. Roughly half the cabinets were unlocked and contained the same rations that Reyne stocked on the Gryphon. They were cheap but covered all the basic nutrients.

“Here.”

Reyne turned to see Critch ruffling through the dead man’s pockets. He pulled out an ID card and tossed it. Reyne caught it and swiped it over one of the locked cabinets. It opened, revealing contents of meats, cheeses, breads, wines, and chocolate.

“A Myrad would never stoop to eating fringe swill.”

Reyne found himself grinning as he grabbed a chocolate bar and cut open the plastic. He waved it in the general direction of the dead man. “Thanks, buddy.” He took a bite and savored it. This was the second time in his life he’d had chocolate. The first time was when he was five and Vym had tossed him a bar after he smuggled her message for her to one of the storekeepers.

“All clear. No more tangos,” Birk reported in.

“Good.” Critch looked down at the body and scowled at Reyne. “I’ll take the feet, you take the head.”

Reyne sighed as gingerly rewrapped the chocolate bar and slid it into his pocket. He walked over and slid his hands under the man’s damp armpits. He grimaced before lifting the body with a grunt.

“Why do I always find the fat ones?” Critch muttered as they carried the body to the airlock and moved it onto the Honorless.

Doc, Boden, and Demes waited in the airlock. Doc, who’d been bent over one of the other crewmembers, moved to check the newcomer. She frowned. “He’s dead.”

“The ship’s clear. You can board now,” Critch said. “Demes, clean up the air for us.”

One of Critch’s crew who was staying on the Honorless nodded toward the incapacitated crew. “You want the tangos handled in the usual fashion?”

“Yes. Drift the Myrads.”

Doc gasped, but Critch continued. “Move the tenured into the hold,” Critch replied. “When they wake, give them the same option we give all tenured.”

“You can’t kill those men,” she said. “They’re helpless, innocent. That’s murder.”

Critch spun around. “Those so-called Myrads have a crew of slaves. They’ve made their entire livelihoods off the backs and blood of fringe. There’s nothing innocent about them. If you want to save them, you can join them in the abyss.”

As he spoke, she took steps back, cowering.

Reyne wanted to stand up for Doc, but the truth was he sided with Critch on this one. These Myrads were using essentially slaves. If there hadn’t been any tenured on this ship, then maybe he would have considered imprisoning the Myrads. What would he do with them then? Drop them off at a fringe station, so they could run to a CUF patrol and stop any chance they had at reaching Myr unnoticed?

Reyne straightened. “He’s right. If they live, they endanger the mission.”

Critch shot a surprised look at Reyne but said nothing.

Reyne continued. “Everyone, grab your gear and load up. We’ve spent enough time lollygagging already.”

Everyone quickly dispersed, leaving Critch and Reyne alone with ten sleeping men and one dead man.

“Lollygagging?”

Reyne smiled.

“I never would’ve taken you for someone to kill unarmed men,” he said after a moment.

Reyne sobered. “You never knew me very well.” He grabbed his gear and walked away.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Phantom Tricks

Critch was right. The Eagle was a slow piece of shit. What the Gryphon could’ve covered in five days at jump speed, the Eagle took over two weeks. Within the first two days, the crews had sorted through all the shipments, finding only fabric and useless electronics parts. The tenureds’ bunks had nothing to offer except trinkets, most of which were hidden under mattresses. The dingy Myrad bunks had luxuries—silver, jewelry and fancy clothes—but nothing of any value to Reyne.

Two captains sharing one ship led to constantly butting heads, which did not make things any easier. Reyne tried to share decisions, but it was hard. He’d been in charge for much of his adult life. Sharing didn’t come easy. Critch was even worse. They finally settled into fifteen-hour shifts, running into each other at shift change briefings and planning meetings.

Myrad food and wine helped pass the hours, but Reyne worried that the CUF would strike another fringe station while they made their slow way to Myr. They had the Collective news on constantly. Myr hadn’t released the blight again, but Ausyar had been busy. The news replayed footage of the CUF taking down fringe “terrorists” and foiling obviously staged bio-terrorist attempts. Genics Corp continued to promise that they were working around the clock to create a fungicide.

If their plan was to make everyone fearful and clamor for Myr’s help, it was working. Every Collective world pledged credits to Genics Corp. Myr had managed to milk people’s pocketbooks and while pulling on their heartstrings at the same time.

Midway through Reyne’s shift on the sixteenth day, Birk pinged him. “We’re within three hours of the space barrier.”

“On my way.” He left Boden in the engine room where they’d been running down one of the thousands of gremlins the ship had.

On the bridge, Reyne found Birk at the controls. “Are we close enough to see radar?” he asked as he took a seat.

Birk sighed. “Not with the outdated software on this beast. I have no idea if we’ll see something in five minutes or if it’ll be two hours.”

Reyne frowned. “We’re already cutting it close if we have to change plans. They likely have us on their systems already.” He inhaled. “Let’s count on that an old Myrad hauler won’t raise any red flags.”

Reyne said and put his hand on Birk’s shoulder. “Let me know as soon as you can see where the CUF patrols are along the barrier.”

“Wilco,” Birk replied without looking up from his panel.

Reyne headed back to his quarters and went through his gear. He strapped on his holster and sheaths and checked his weapons. After he was all set, he took a seat and closed his eyes. In three hours, they would either be through Myr’s EMP space barrier and landing on the planet’s surface, or the barrier’s electromagnetic pulse would fry the ship’s systems and life support, making them sitting ducks to be blown up by CUF patrols—or left to die in their cold Myrad coffin. He didn’t which option offered the worse prospects.

When he returned to the bridge, he reviewed the mission schematics that Heid had sent them. He tried not to think about what could go wrong. Instead, he focused on what needed done when they landed on Myr’s surface.

At two hours to go, Reyne was ready to bang his head against the panel. The ship’s blasted computers still hadn’t picked up any traffic, let alone the massive space barrier. It wasn’t until ninety-six minutes out that Birk finally picked up hints of the space barrier.

Reyne headed to the commons to grab them some food. On his way back, he pounded on the door to Critch’s quarters. “Rise and shine. Ninety minutes out.”

He smiled at the string of profanity that was shouted from the other side of the door.

Critch arrived on the bridge roughly ten minutes later, wearing full gear. “What do we have?” he asked, his voice rough from sleep.

“We’re a little over seventy-five minutes out,” Reyne said. “We haven’t picked up any CUF patrols yet.”

Critch grimaced. “This damn ship belongs in a junkyard. If we were on my ship, we’d be close enough to pick up the hair on their asses by now.”

Reyne ate as they waited. Critch disappeared briefly and returned with a meal of his own.

Fifteen minutes later, Birk still hadn’t found any signs of CUF ships.

Critch wiped his hands and pushed off the wall to take over Birk’s seat as pilot. “Go get ready. I’ll take it from here.”

As Critch strapped in, Reyne remembered meeting Critch for the first time. He’d still went by Fender at that time, a talented young pilot ready to take on the universe. Reyne had seen his potential and took him under his wing. The Uprising was a year in, and they discovered hell together. They were brothers-in-arms…until Critch emerged from the Uprising with the belief that Reyne had betrayed everything they fought for.

Shaking off the old memories, Reyne broadcast to the ship, “Attention crew. We have one hour until we reach the barrier. Gear up and grab some grub. It might be some time before you eat or sleep once we pass through. Then, get yourselves to your stations. If we get scanned, I don’t want them seeing heat signatures of the entire crew all hanging out on the bridge. Everything about us has to look run-of-the-mill.”

“I’m picking up something,” Critch said finally, frowning.

“What do you have?” Reyne asked.

“Not sure yet.” After a long moment, he leaned back. “Fuck.”

Reyne rushed over to see what the other man was looking at. He frowned. “That can’t be.”

“That’s what I thought, too, but I double-checked. The data’s right.”

Reyne stared at the view screen, expecting to see what was on their radar even though they were still too far out for the feeble view screen to zoom in on. “It’s too late to run. They’ve probably locked onto us hours ago.”

“I don’t know why they haven’t hailed us.”

“You think they’re onto us?” Reyne asked.

“Don’t know.”

A chime alerted them to a new notification. Critch checked it first. “Ah, here comes an automated code request from the space barrier.”

“Let’s find out if we’re going to live beyond the next sixty seconds,” Critch said as he fed the ship’s authentication codes to the space barrier’s system.

The tension throughout the bridge was stifling, and Reyne found his arthritic joints complaining.

After long delay, Critch blew out a breath. “It accepted the code. We’re approved to pass through the barrier.”

Reyne, too, let out the breath he’d been holding and pointed at the view screen. “The bigger question is, will they let us pass?”

Faint dots appeared and slowly grew to form ships. Not CUF patrol ships, but huge warships. From the looks of things, the entire CUF fleet was out there waiting for them.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Divide and Conquer

“Why would they be out here?” Critch asked. “The fleet base of operations is in between Myr and Alluvia. They’re on the wrong side of Myr.”

“Heid had said Ausyar was making changes to the fleet,” Reyne said. “My guess is this is all his doing.”

“You think he’s moved the fleet farther from Alluvia to make it easier to control?”

Reyne shook his head. “Don’t know, but I do know they wouldn’t send the entire fleet for a single crew of torrents. They have to be out here for some other reason.”

“Let’s hope that reason doesn’t involve shooting us and screwing up our plans.”

Reyne turned to Critch. “Don’t slow down and don’t veer off course. We want them to think we’re just passing through on a regular run.”

“You want to fly?” Critch snapped back.

“Yeah, I do,” Reyne answered.

Critch hesitated. “Well, you can’t.”

Reyne eyed the pirate long and hard before forcing himself to relax. On the Gryphon, he’d have access to systems to see everything Critch was seeing. But, the Eagle was an obsolete craft. It had few redundancies, including a single piloting and navigating system. It made Reyne feel downright helpless.

“Aw, hell,” Critch muttered. “We’re being hailed.”

“Myrad Eagle II hauler Four-Six-Seven-Four-Five, this is the Collective Unified Forces battleship Vigor. You are cleared to pass through to Myr. Adjust course to heading seven eight four point five point three two. This is to have you maintain a safe distance of at least one hundred clicks from the fleet.”

Critch paused for a short moment before sending a response. “Vigor, this is Myr-Four-Six-Seven-Four-Five. Message received. Adjusting course to maintain a safe distance. Thank you, and have a nice day.”

A response came speedily back. “Have a good day, and safe travels Myr-Four-Five.”

Reyne chuckled. “Even their old junkers get treated better than colonists.”

“Assuming they’re not drawing us into a trap,” Critch said. “This feels eerily similar to how I nabbed an Alluvian cruiser a few months back.”

Reyne frowned. “I wish Demes could be plugged into their systems right about now to see what they’re thinking.”

“Agreed.” Critch rubbed his hands. “Well, we’re a Myrad hauler, and we’re going to cruise right past those warships and through that space barrier, as if we’ve done it a hundred times before.”

Reyne cocked his head. “I never took you for an optimist.”

“All pirates are optimists, otherwise they’d never leave the docks.”

“I thought you were all opportunists.”

Critch shrugged. “No difference.”

Silence fell on the bridge. Reyne broadcasted nothing to the crew in case the CUF was picking up their radios. He knew the crew was nervous, and he considered making rounds to update them, but he couldn’t bring himself to stand. Not when the view screen was filled with several dozen warships, gunships, and patrols.

As they approached the fleet, Reyne and Critch shot harried glances at each other. They were easily within shooting range and could be blown into the abyss without a single chance for counter maneuvers. Not that they could make any kind of stand in this ship, as it was.

The ships sat in loose groupings. The warships sat together, with the frigates and destroyers separated. Gunships sat closer to the barrier. Patrol ships, work ships, and mish-mash of smaller ships sat as outliers.

A patrol ship sped toward them, and Reyne leaned forward, gripping his seat.

The ship whizzed past as it angled toward a warship.

Reyne slumped. “Damn, cocky fliers. Reminds me of how you used to fly.”

Critch’s lip curled up at the corner.

Neither man spoke again until they passed the fleet and entered the space barrier.

The barrier wasn’t actually a barrier. It was simply a matrix of EMP buoys in Myr’s orbit. It was a fail-safe protective blanket since only CUF ships had protection against EMP fields. Though, as far as Reyne knew, no ships had the level of protection needed from the high-intensity blasts the buoys emitted.

No one without access codes was landing on Myr.

Flashing lights on the EMP buoys twinkled their locations. “Those things are eerie.”

“Yes, they are,” Critch said, and Reyne realized he’d voiced his thoughts out loud.

“We’re almost through,” Critch continued.

After they cleared the barrier, Reyne closed his eyes and breathed. “You won’t hear me complaining that we’re out of that.”

Critch cracked his neck. “Not a bad looking planet. Too bad it’s full of citizens.”

With the fleet and barrier behind them, Reyne was able to appreciate Myr’s beauty. The planet was the first colonized world after Mars failed, and he could see why. With a wealth of both land and water, it was a picturesque, temperate world, reminding him of pictures he’d seen of Earth.

Reyne broadcast to the ship, “Heads up crew. We’re clear of the space barrier. Prepare for landing.”

Unlike the colonies, Myr had twelve space docks around the planet. Critch hailed the Smithton dock. They directed him through landing protocols, which he handled as though he were a Myrad captain.

Myr had a thick atmosphere, thicker than all the other planets, and the descent lasted longer and was more turbulent that Reyne experienced before. Even still, Critch brought the junker down with finesse.

The space dock they landed at put any fringe station’s dock to shame. This dock, built out of silver alloy, was easily ten times the size of Ice Port’s dock, and it seemed fifty times as busy. It climbed from the surface like a glistening rainbow and took up much of the island it occupied. Critch settled the ship down gently onto her base despite her size and clumsy controls.

“Not bad,” Reyne said. “Although, I’m sure Throttle would still give you some pointers.”

Critch grunted. “If she’s anything like you, I’m not surprised.”

“Everyone, to the commons for final checks,” Reyne announced.

By the time Critch had locked the ship down, Boden and Doc had finished staining everyone’s faces with blueberry wine. Doc stepped up to Reyne and wiped the stained cloth over his face while Boden did the same to Critch’s face.

Doc stepped back to admire her work. “You could actually pass as Myrads.”

Reyne turned to Critch who was scowling. “You hear that, you could be a Myrad.”

Critch muttered something under his breath.

Reyne smirked and grabbed the long coat he’d found in one of the Myrad’s quarters and slipped it on, covering his armament.

Critch was leading the other team, but with his scars, he’d never be able to pass off being a Myrad. Therefore, Birk wore a coat like the one Reyne wore, playing the part of Myrad on Critch’s crew. Since Myrads were oven outnumbered a dozen-to-one by tenured, everyone else wore rattier tenured jackets.

Critch slapped his hands together. “Okay, the Genics snatch starts now.” He glanced as his watch. “The courtesy time limit to dock without filing paperwork is five hours, which means we need to be off wheels-up before sunrise. If any of you aren’t back by then, you’ll be considered dead or a permanent Myrad resident. Got it?”

“Okay. Boden and Doc,” Reyne began. “Under no circumstances, you will leave this ship. If you get asked by a dock patrol, make excuses if you have to.”

“I still prefer to come with you,” Boden grumbled.

“Can’t risk it,” Reyne said. “You’re our ticket to Alluvia. You’re staying on this junker where it’s safe.”

Doc didn’t say anything, and Reyne knew she’d always been quite comfortable staying out of harm’s way.

“That’s not permission to sit on your asses,” Critch said. “This ship better be ready to power up within seconds of us getting back on board. It won’t take long for them to figure out something is up once we make the snatch.”

“The ship will be ready,” Boden said quickly.

Reyne grabbed Boden’s forearm. “See you soon.”

Boden nodded and grabbed Reyne’s arm. “The sooner the better.”

Doc ran over and hugged Reyne. “Hurry back,” she whispered.

Reyne smiled. “I plan on it.”

Critch patted Demes’ shoulder. “Watch your back out there.”

Critch stood for a moment and—surprisingly—grabbed Reyne’s forearm. “Take care of my tech.”

Reyne nodded and clasped the pirate’s arm. “You have my word. I’ll look out for him.”

Critch stepped back. “Let’s do this. Chutt, Birk, let’s see what Genics Corp has to offer.”

Reyne turned to Demes and Sixx. “Ready to tour a Myrad mansion?”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Silver-Coated Problems

Critch

The six men separated into their two groups after they left the docks. Critch’s team had the far more dangerous job, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. His team was headed to Genics Corp’s Smithton warehouse, where the organization stored its incoming and outgoing inventory near the docks. Heid’s spies believed the fungicide was being stored here, that was, if it even existed.

There were far too many unknowns in this plan for Critch to be comfortable. They had only an address. No map of the place, no intel on security procedures. Hell, he didn’t even know if Genics Corp had night personnel on staff. The way he saw it, they were running into a potential cluster fuck with their eyes closed and both hands tied behind their backs.

Nonetheless, if anyone could pull off two concurrent heists within the heart of Myr, these two crews could. He, Chutt, and Birk had fought alongside one another in close-quarters for years. He trusted them and knew he could count on them to follow his lead. Critch worried far more about the risk of Reyne selling Critch and his crew out to the CUF. Critch clenched his fists, thinking about the man he would’ve gladly have given his life for at one time.

But, Vym had asked Critch to trust his old mentor. Critch had given his word, but that didn’t mean he’d trust the runner.

Critch noticed how stiffly the older man moved now. But, he knew Demes would be safe, because he had Sixx there to look after him. Critch has sparred with the runner back on the Honorless and found the man had the heart of a pirate. Critch knew he could count on him as long as he paid him well—and he promised to pay him plenty to keep the young tech safe.

He tugged up his collar against the damp winds blowing in from the sea. The sidewalks Birk led them down weren’t busy at this hour, lowering the risk of someone noticing them as off-worlders. They walked a dozen blocks, past silver skyscrapers that pierced the sky like swords, until they reached the address they were looking for. The narrow four-story building bore no logo.

“It’s the one,” Critch said quietly but loud enough for Birk to hear. Years spent as a pirate taught Critch that when someone downplayed their property, they were intentionally trying to avoid attention. That was always what he’d go for first. The same was no different tonight.

Birk gave a quick nod and led them to the alley between the buildings across the street. Once in the shadows, Critch held up a hand to silence his men while he ran a scan for sensors. Several moments later, he let his hand drop. “Alley’s clear.” He nodded toward the Genics Corp building. “They have motion and audio sensors at all windows and doors on the ground level. Looks like they don’t want company.”

Chutt smiled. “I’d say, let’s drop in.”

Critch looked up at the roof. “My thoughts exactly.”

The trio spent the next two hours breaking into the taller building next door and sneaking through hallways and up elevator shafts to get to its roof. From there, they shot a zip line over to the roof of the Genics Corp warehouse.

As Birk retracted the line, Critch scanned the roof to double check for sensors. “It’s clear.”

He walked casually to the roof access door and was surprised to find it unlocked. He almost laughed at the ease of entry. The Myrads were too cocky. Sure, they had a space barrier, but he was still surprised no one on the surface felt like becoming a thief—or even a vandal—for the hell of it. He imagined Myr’s police forces must’ve focused only on catching runaway tenureds.

“Easy pickings,” Chutt said from right behind Critch as he stepped inside.

He turned to face Chutt and Birk. “Warehouse personnel are likely all tenured, so they won’t put their lives on the line to protect inventory. Still, there’s no need to draw any attention.”

“Got it, boss,” Chutt said, and Birk nodded.

He wagged his finger ahead. “Let’s go.”

They crept down a short stairwell to the fourth floor. Critch frowned as he took in the layout. As expected, each level had shelves lining its walls, with walkways around them. The problem lay on the other side of the innermost walkway, where a large opening cut straight through the center of the building. A machine on rails ran up and down all four stories as it moved crates from one floor to another floor.

There was little opportunity for them to move around without being in the open. He entered in new search criteria on his wrist scanner and than scanned the building’s interior. Dots highlighted the only active sensors—all concentrated in a corner on second floor. He crawled to the open center, got down on his stomach, and peered over the edge. Roughly a dozen tenured workers were inventorying and moving crates. Another three wore familiar blue uniforms. Critch flattened himself on the floor and crawled back to Chutt and Birk’s position.

“I counted three dromadiers down there.”

Chutt scrambled to pull out his gun. “What the hell are they doing here?”

“Doesn’t matter. The mission is still on,” Critch replied.

“What do we do about them?” Birk asked.

Critch pulled out his pistol and scanned the warehouse. His eyes locked onto the massive machine moving up the center of the building.

He smiled. “I have a plan.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

The Best Laid Plans

Zara Wintsel, president of Genics Corp, lived like a queen. The opulence—the sickening wastefulness—made Reyne want to be off Myr and back in the fringe where things made sense. “Let’s make this quick,” he gritted out. “I want to be back on the tram and heading back to the ship as soon as possible.”

“You don’t need to twist my arm,” Demes said.

“I should’ve brought a bigger bag,” Sixx said, entranced by the fortunes on display everywhere.

Reyne eyed the large duffle. “Your bag is plenty big enough.”

He turned his attention back to the mission at hand. If there was evidence of Myr’s plans for the Collective, Heid said it would be stored on Dr. Zara Wintsel’s personal computers. Heid’s Founder friend—one who called herself Mariner—had seen the files for herself and had shared the details with the Founders. Rather than going for the data, the Founders chose instead to convince Zara Wintsel into ceasing Genics Corp’s involvement using fear tactics. They’d released the blight at their Moon lab to make a statement. Unfortunately, the attack did nothing to sway Wintsel and her Myrad coconspirators from moving ahead with their plans.

Unable to control Wintsel, Heid suspected the Founders would assassinate the powerful woman and destroy any proof of the Myrad’s involvement to help prevent war. With no proof, the conspirators behind Ice Port’s and Sol Base’s destruction would never be punished. And, that was something Reyne couldn’t abide.

He analyzed the silver mansion that sprawled across the pristine landscape. Fountains and bushy trees dotted the lawn, providing plenty of coverage to approach the house from the back. A smattering of tenured house staff came and went. Four security personnel arrived and made rounds shortly before Wintsel landed late into the night in a hovercraft. One of the security guards escorted her into her house. Reyne suspected that this would be a far easier job if they’d done this before the blight attack heightened security.

“How’s the security look?” he asked Demes who lay on the ground in between Reyne and Sixx.

Demes ran a scanner as Reyne glanced over his shoulder. Dots lit up at the mansion’s entrances but nowhere else. “Piece of cake.”

Reyne shook his head. “Let’s hope that scanner is accurate.” He rose to his feet and stretched. His joints were constantly reminding him how much heavier gravity was on Myr than on Playa.

“Demes, you stay between me and Sixx,” Reyne ordered.

Demes smirked. “I’ve been through a lot deeper shit before.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to listen to Critch’s incessant complaining if you get yourself killed,” Reyne snapped back. “Now, follow me.”

He took the lead, weaving fountains and under thick trees to stay in the shadows. It was late, the time Wintsel would be soundly asleep and her guards snoozing on the job. Several house lights remained on, but Reyne hadn’t seen movement of any kind for over an hour.

The trio moved slowly and carefully as they approached the mansion and made their way to the corner of the house. Reyne, still in lead, peeked around the corner. He counted three windows down to the one that would be the office window. He bit his lip to keep from cursing, and he turned to face Demes and Sixx.

“There’s a light on,” he whispered. “Which means she may or may not be in there.” He glanced from Demes to Sixx. “Sixx, I need you to check it out.”

Sixx gave a quick nod and moved around them. He moved quickly in a half-crouched pace to the window. When he reached it, he flattened against the wall, and gingerly peered around the window.

Reyne glanced around the yard to make sure they were still alone, and Sixx hurried back.

“She’s in there all right. She’s sitting at her desk, just on the other side of the window, facing away from us. The room is small and the door is closed.

Reyne grimaced. “Doesn’t that woman ever sleep?” He inhaled and contemplated for a brief moment. “Sixx, I need you to draw her away from that room to buy time for Demes to hack her system. Think you can figure out a diversion?”

Sixx grinned. “My pleasure.”

“Demes, how much time do you need to break into her system and copy her files?”

Demes shrugged. “Depends on her security protocols. Could be thirty seconds. Could be thirty minutes.”

“You have three minutes.” Reyne glanced at both, but neither objected. Demes looked like he wanted to but wisely kept his mouth shut. Reyne clasped Sixx’s shoulder. “Be careful.”

“Always am.”

“You never are,” Reyne muttered as the man ran toward the front of the house.

Reyne turned to Demes. “Let’s do this.” He grabbed his plastic cutting tools and slid along the outside of the house to the office window ducking under the two windows before it. He stopped and waited, watching Wintsel for any sign of movement.

He didn’t need to watch her. A hovercraft alarm pierced the air, and Reyne chuckled at Sixx’s flamboyant style. He counted to five before glancing into the office, and found Zara Wintsel heading into the hallway.

Immediately, he carved a giant circle into the pane. Demes wore sticky gloves and pulled the pane out, keeping it from crashing. Demes crawled through first, and Reyne followed. He landed on the floor with a grunt, rolled to his feet, and quietly shut and locked the door Wintsel had left wide open.

Demes sat at the desk. He set a small black dome over the keyboard. Gray lights flashed across its surface, before turning yellow, then finally green. The tech leaned forward. “I’m in.”

A woman’s voice emanated from the hallway. “Be sure to report it in, and line up the house staff. I’d bet credits one of them thought they could steal it.”

Reyne glanced at Demes. “Hurry. We don’t have much time.”

The handle jiggled, followed by a woman’s frustrated voice. “Guards, why is this door locked?”

“I don’t know why, ma’am. Did it lock on its own?” a man responded.

“No, it wouldn’t lock on its own, idiot. You young fools have no concept to how antique doors work.” Someone pounded on the door. “Hello? Who’s in there? Patrice, if I find that you’ve let your filthy daughter roam in my house again, I swear you both will go straight to the Citadel.”

“Demes, hurry,” Reyne warned.

“Almost seventy percent copied,” Demes said.

“Move to the side, ma’am,” the same man who’d spoken before said.

Something slammed against the door, and Reyne leaned against the wood, attempting to keep the frame from splitting. As he held the door shut, he took in the shelves lined with priceless crystals. A portrait caught his eye. Zara Wintsel stood in a loving embrace with a CUF officer, who also had blue-hued skin. This wasn’t just any officer. This older man bore the insignia of the corps general. “Ausyar,” Reyne muttered, and everything made sense.

“Eighty percent.”

Reyne glanced at Demes who was tapping his fingers on the panel. Movement outside caught his eyes. “Sixx,” Reyne said in relief.

Relief was short-lived as another slam against the door rattled Reyne’s body.

“We’ve been compromised,” Reyne said aloud, pulling out his gun. “Watch your back.”

Sixx nodded and looked from side to side before dropping below Reyne’s line of sight.

“I hear you in there!” came the woman’s voice. “Guards, open this door right this instant. I’m being robbed!”

“Ninety percent.”

The sound of a proton gun fractured the air, and Reyne glanced down. They’d shot the door lock and the shot had continued through his left side. His brunt nerves finally picked a sharp coldness, to be followed by an intense burning. “Son of a bitch.” He lunged free of the door the same moment they slammed it open.

“Demes, get down,” Reyne said as the first guard toppled inside. Reyne shot him point blank. He swung around and fired off continuous shots at the guard on the other side of the doorway. The man stood, shocked for a moment, before collapsing in a heap. Behind that guard, Reyne found Wintsel. “Aw, shit.”

She was leaning against the wall, fighting for breath that would never come. One of Reyne’s shots had gone clean through her trachea and carotid artery. She’d be dead in seconds, but still she desperately fought for the last vestiges of life.

“Got it,” Demes said, coming to his feet, pocketing his hardware.

Reyne tore his eyes from the dying woman to make sure no one else was coming down the hallway. He turned and clenched his teeth through his inhalation, every breath and movement becoming more and more painful. Fighting through the agony, he motioned to the window. “Move.”

Demes frowned. “You’re shot.”

“A clean through-and-through. I’m still in this fight.” He followed Demes to the window, concentrating on not touching his wound. The proton blast cauterized the wound, but it would easily become infected without treatment.

Demes tumbled through the window. Reyne followed, with help from Demes and Sixx. Outside, he discovered the two other guards, each dead with headshots.

“Tell me you got the data,” Reyne said.

“I got the data, but I won’t know if it’s worth anything until I look at it,” Demes replied.

“Wait. I need to grab some souvenirs,” Sixx said.

“No time.”

“But, all four guards are down,” Sixx argued.

“No time,” Reyne repeated.

Sixx shrugged. “Can you believe she had only four guards for a house the size of a castle?”

“She didn’t need more,” Reyne ground out, knowing that no one in their right mind would trespass on the property of someone with connections to the corps general.

“She was Ausyar’s lover, and I killed her.”

Sixx’s eyes widened. “Oh. That won’t go over well.”

“No it won’t. Not at all,” Demes agreed.

An orange glow lit the sky in the distance, and all three men turned.

“Wow, now that’s an explosion,” Demes said.

“That came from the direction of docks,” Sixx said.

Recognition tensed Reyne’s muscles. “We need to get back to the ship now.”

Zara Wintsel’s hovercraft made quick time back to the ship. The explosion at the Genics Corp warehouse reddened the twilight sky, and Reyne knew they’d be lucky if the docks weren’t already under lock-down.

Reyne, the only pilot in the group, had to fly the hovercraft even though his side was now screaming in agony. He none too gracefully parked the hovercraft outside a café. Demes and Sixx helped Reyne onto the space dock.

Critch, Chutt, and Birk were already walking up the ship’s ramp. That they carried crates Reyne took as an optimistic sign. They hurried the remaining short distance. Reyne pulled free and headed straight for the bridge, where Critch was already strapped in and starting up the engines.

“Dock control,” Critch transmitted as Reyne took a seat. “This is Eagle II hauler Myr-Four-Six-Seven-Four-Five. We’re ready for departure.”

“Eagle Myr-Four-Five, please hold.”

“Shit,” Critch muttered as they waited. “They’re onto us.”

Another response came long seconds later. “Myr-Four-Five. You are cleared for launch. Moving you onto launch pad Delta Three. We’re expecting multiple inbound ships shortly. Be careful out there.”

Critch lifted his brow and he cocked his head. “Will do, Dock control. Thank you and have a nice day.”

“They must not have been notified yet to go under lock-down,” Reyne said. “This place is seriously lacking security protocols.”

“That’s because no one’s had the balls to give them a black eye in their own backyard before. It’s one thing attacking their Moon, but they felt all cozy and safe behind their space barrier,” Critch said before adding, “You need Doc to take a look at that gunshot.”

Reyne winced. “Once we’re safely out of Myr’s airspace.”

Critch gave a small nod. “Did you get the data?”

“Yeah. Let’s hope Demes finds something useful in it. Did you get the fungicide?”

“Birk and Chutt are stowing it now.”

Now that Reyne was no longer on the move, his side began to throb and darkness crept into his vision. He slumped forward, not finding the strength to lean back.

“Doc, you’d better get up here,” Critch said on the intercom.

Reyne vaguely sensed someone moving him. He heard voices but couldn’t make out any words. As he was dragged—or maybe he was floating—he faded into oblivion.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Corrupted Illusions

Critch

Critch watched as Doc and Sixx move Reyne to the medical bay, and wondered if the old captain would survive. Even through the blue stain, Reyne was too pale and his hair was clinging to his face.

The pirate waited for the launch countdown to finish. Beyond the launch pad, all he could see was water He imagined how much easier life on Terra would’ve been with this much water.

He frowned. He hated thinking of Terra. He hadn’t lived there since the Uprising, and his final days there—the worst days—haunted him.

They’d been safe and secure at Broken Mountain. They’d even been planning an attack that would’ve changed the entire course of the Uprising. Then, the CUF snuck through the tunnels in the dead of night. The torrents never stood a chance. The CUF never would’ve found those camouflaged tunnels on their own, and no sensors could’ve picked them up. That the CUF came through all the tunnels at the same time meant one thing. Someone betrayed the cause.

Coincidentally, Reyne had left the day before with several medics to check on civilian injuries. At the time, Critch had assumed Reyne had been killed. It wasn’t until after the attack when he put two-and-two together.

Reyne was the traitor.

Critch became a hardened leader that day after learning a final and the most valuable lesson from his mentor.

Don’t trust anyone.

For many years, he’d wished for Reyne’s head on a platter, for some kind of retribution. Only now, seeing Reyne weak and injured, he found a strange feeling of sympathy toward the traitor.

The panel chimed, signaling the countdown was nearly complete. Glad to focus on the launch, he brushed aside memories that only complicated things and worked on getting them to Alluvia.

Reyne woke to a pleasant numbness.

“You’re awake.”

He turned groggily and Doc’s blurred form sharpened into view. “How long have I been out?”

“Three days.”

“Too long.” He went to sit up, and placed a hand over the tender bruise on his side. He pulled up his shirt to find a bright pink scar under a thick, clear shell filled with gel.

“Be careful. I kept you under for your body to mend faster, but you still need time.”

“We’re clear of Alluvia’s space barrier, courtesy of our pal, Boden. Prepare for landing.”

Reyne pushed off the table to his feet and stabilized himself against the spinning room.

“You need to rest,” Doc said.

He held out an arm to block her. When the room stopped spinning, he flipped his hand over.

She pursed her lips, looking down at his open palm and up at her face. After a short battle of the wills, she relented. She opened a drawer, tore off a strip of pills and placed them in his hand. “You’re a fool if you think you should be moving around.”

He grabbed an additional strip of pills and wagged it at her before pocketing it. He headed toward the bridge without a word. When he entered, he found Boden at his seat and Critch in the pilot’s seat. Boden was the first to notice Reyne. The mechanic’s brows rose in an unasked question. Reyne cocked a weak grin, and Boden tilted his head in respect.

Reyne leaned against the back wall. “Did Demes find anything useful in the data?” Reyne asked.

Critch threw a glance over his shoulder, giving Reyne a quick onceover before turning back to his controls. He gave a long, slow nod. “More than a dozen video transcriptions of Dr. Zara Wintsel and Corps General Michel Ausyar planning their takeover of the entire Collective.”

“Those are some lofty goals,” Reyne said.

“They’re couldn’t do all this work in a silo,” Critch countered. “They have thousands doing their dirty work for them. They never would’ve used the blight without the blessing of all Myr’s leaders.”

“Agreed.” Reyne paused. “Any word from Heid?”

“Nothing,” Critch replied.

“She’ll pull through,” Reyne replied. “We have to get that information out.”

Critch focused straight ahead. “We may want to consider a backup plan.”

“She’ll pull through,” Reyne repeated. He shot a sympathetic glance to Boden. “If we still don’t hear from her once we land, we’ll have to head to Boden’s to regroup.”

“We can’t go there. My parents still live there,” Boden said quickly.

“We might have no other option,” Reyne said. “We can’t stay on this ship. It won’t take the CUF long to put the pieces together, especially when a Myrad ship is using Alluvian codes. The faster we ditch this junker, the better chance we have.”

Critch nodded to the blue world filling the view screen. “We’ll be landing soon, but you don’t look to be in any condition to leave the ship.”

“I’ll be fine.” Reyne popped a painkiller, pushed off from the wall, and headed toward his quarters to gear up for the third and most crucial part of their plan. By the time Reyne checked his weapons and grabbed some food, Critch had them on the ground. Though, on Alluvia, “ground” wasn’t entirely correct.

The entire planet’s surface was covered in water, with giant reed forests reaching upward toward the sky. The space docks, along with every city, were built on massive floating platforms. The water was peaceful and gorgeous and deadly.

When the first colonists arrived from Earth, they brought with them DNA for many of their home world’s species. They cloned hundreds of species to provide their food supply, but they failed to take into account that mutations to adapt to new climates were inevitable. What had been large, harmless fish used for food on Earth evolved on Alluvia over the centuries into deadly predators.

Because of the danger, tenured were used for fishing. Boden’s parents had been fishermen, but had managed to buy their freedom. Reyne didn’t know the story behind how they acquired enough credits, but he knew that story was the same reason Boden had left and never spoke to them again. With Boden’s staunch loyalty to the fringe, Reyne suspected that Boden’s parents were the last people they wanted to involved in their plans.

“We’re docked,” Critch announced to the ship. “Grab all your gear. Birk, pack up the fungicide for Sol Base. We’ll be finding another ride home.”

“Still no word from Heid?” Reyne asked after they all met at the airlock.

Critch shook his head and headed down the ramp. He wore a cloak over his clothes, as did everyone from the ship. Tenureds walked freely on Alluvia. The crew took no precautions to disguise themselves, hiding only their weapons, which were outlawed for all non-citizens.

The painkiller had kicked in, and Reyne found himself feeling better than ever, with even his arthritis muted. He strode down the ramp and met Critch at the bottom. Before them stood an ancient-looking Alluvian. The man tilted his head in acknowledgement.

“Gentlemen, I am your Driver,” he said. “I will deliver you to your destination.”

Critch eyed Reyne, who looked every bit as surprised as Reyne felt.

Reyne said quietly, “Guess she pulled through after all.” He then looked back to the driver and waved his arm. “Lead the way.”

As their driver led them at a snail’s pace through the docks, Reyne was impressed that Heid had pulled through. He hadn’t expected much from a CUF officer, but her intel on the Myr heists was spot-on, and she’d given her word that she’d connect them with a news reporter on Alluvia, who would then broadcast any evidence they acquired at Wintsel’s residence.

If the legends about the Founders were true, then they had the access to the news channels to share the information across the Collective. Demes was an impressive tech, but even he couldn’t tap into the news channels without a hard line. If this news was distributed, Reyne knew it would have far more potency coming directly from the news channels.

They walked under a huge glowing sign that read Welcome to First City. On the other side, the driver motioned to a white luxury hovercraft before opening the door and stepping inside. Reyne followed, staring at the dozen seats covered in real leather. Bowls of fresh fruit and bite-sized chocolates sat at each seat. He had to remind himself to focus on the mission to keep from tearing into the decadent treats.

He took a seat near the driver, and Critch did the same. The rest of the crew climbed inside, each making sounds of awe and wonderment. Critch rubbed the leather. “Think it’s human?” he asked softly, and Reyne found himself wondering the same since the real thing was unheard of.

While their crews savored the delicacies and seemed to enjoy the ride, Reyne and Critch watched out the windows to see where their strange host was taking them. The ride was shorter than expected, with their driver stopping a mile from the docks, in the warehouse district.

The hovercraft settled onto the ground and the driver turned off the engine. “We have arrived,” the old man said before he walked through the craft and opened the door. Reyne shot Critch a quick glance to see the pirate unclicking his holster. Reyne did the same and led the way.

“Hang in there. This will all be done soon enough,” Reyne said to their crew who had tensed visibly.

The driver’s short steps made the walk long from the hovercraft into an unmarked warehouse.

Critch grimaced. “I’m starting to grow a serious dislike for warehouses.”

Reyne stopped at the doorway. “Try not to blow this one up.”

He shrugged as he stepped around Reyne and through the doorway.

The driver shuffled down an aisle with crates stacked along each side. Critch gaped. “Biome kits, air converters, rations. They could colonize a new world with this supply.”

“I’m more curious why they’re stockpiling,” Reyne noted quietly.

The old man motioned to the doorway at the end of the aisle. Reyne swallowed, tension cutting through the painkillers, heightening his senses. The doorway was wide enough that he and Critch stepped through together into the cube-shaped room, where a lone man stood.

“I don’t like this,” Critch whispered, his gaze darting around. “One door, no windows. This looks more like a cell than a meeting room.”

“Agreed,” was Reyne’s quick response, noticing their driver was nowhere to be found and the door was now closed. “I’m starting to doubt our CUF friend’s good intentions.”

Critch shot Reyne a wry look.

“Welcome to Alluvia,” the newcomer said, stepping forward. “You’ve had quite the journey.”

The man continued to step forward, to come directly under the light, as he scrutinized the crew. He looked to be around Critch’s age, which made it far more likely he was at least Reyne’s age, if not older. He wore a business suit and had slick, short hair. There was something about him that Reyne found familiar, even though he was confident he’d never seen this man before.

The man continued. “You’ve brought me information that, if broadcasted, would change the Collective forever.”

Reyne narrowed his gaze. “Yes, and you’re going to help us.”

The man smiled. “Of course. But, we must be careful. The Collective is in a state of flux. You’ve all sensed it, otherwise you wouldn’t be risking your lives. Though, this is not the first time many of you have risked your lives. I wonder,” the stranger began as he slowly paced in front of the crew. “What two torrent marshals, working together again, bodes for our future.”

“We’re not here for sweet-talk,” Critch gritted out. “Now, can you broadcast what we’ve brought or not?”

“You were always the headstrong marshal,” the man said, ignoring Critch’s question. “Following your gut first.”

“It’s kept me alive this far,” Critch said, and Reyne could feel the tension rolling off the pirate. “And, it’s telling me right now that we walked into a trap. So, what’s to stop me from killing you right here and now?”

The man pursed his lips.

Reyne’s blood ran cold. Heid didn’t come through for them. They’d been set up. And, the pieces fell into place. He recalled the pleas Vym had written to a Founder on Alluvia, and that Founder’s negative responses. “You’re Mason,” he blurted out.

The man tensed in surprise.

Critch motioned over his shoulder. “Birk, check that door.”

Birk yelled back a couple seconds later. “It’s locked, boss.”

The man’s features smoothed. “You know, there was a time,” he began wistfully. “That if we even suspected someone of knowing about the Founders meant a death warrant. Despite that history, here you are today, meeting face to face with me, and you’re still breathing.”

“For now,” Critch muttered.

Mason walked in silence for a moment before pausing. “You see, I was at Broken Mountain the night the Uprising was crushed. I arranged the meeting for the traitor and Corps General Ausyar, though he was a commandant at that time. I didn’t intend for Marshal Reyne to get discredited. My intent was for both marshals to perish in the battle to minimize the risk of the Uprising coming back before we’re ready for it.” He shook his head. “It’s not yet time for it to begin again.”

Reyne’s blood ran cold and he pulled out his gun.

Critch spoke first. “You’re a psychopath.”

Mason frowned and waved him away. “You think I take pleasure in killing? Everything the Founders do is to preserve the Collective. Innocents, like your friend, Kason Somerville, must sometimes become casualties or else they may upset the balance.”

Reyne found it hard to swallow. “You killed Kason.”

“You bastard!” Boden yelled.

“He never did anything wrong,” Reyne said, forcing deep breaths.

“Wrong. I’ll be the first to say Lord Somerville was a gentleman, but he gained knowledge that he shouldn’t have found. I’m tasked with the responsibility of looking at the big picture.” He paused for a moment. “I have no choice, much like the traitor had no choice on Broken Mountain. It was her life or the Uprising. Isn’t that right, Aila?”

Reyne sucked in a breath as he spun around to see Doc stepping back from the crew. Her eyes watered. “I had no choice,” she said in the softest whisper.

“Birk, disarm her,” Critch ordered.

Reyne stood, slack-jawed, as he struggled to fit the pieces of a puzzle together that made no sense. Finally, he said the only word he could manage to get out. “You?”

Doc’s teary gaze pleaded with him. He stared at her for only a brief moment before he snapped around to face Mason. He raised his pistol. “Enough. You lured us here and have been biding your time ever since. It’s clear you want us dead, so what are you waiting for?”

The man cocked his head. “I concede that you are correct. I cannot have players on the board who are unwilling to be controlled. You’re just pawns that should’ve been cleared from the board twenty years ago. That oversight will be fixed shortly. It’s not personal.”

“Oh, it’s personal all right,” Critch said and fired at Mason.

Mason jumped, but the shot never hit him. It hit a transparent pane that stood between Mason the crew.

Critch’s jaw dropped. “Son of a bitch.”

The man shook his head. “Always the headstrong one.”

Critch fired another shot. Reyne fired one off, too, because he was royally pissed off.

“Watch yourselves,” Mason said. “I could kill any one of you with a single press of a button.”

Reyne frowned, and searched the walls until he’d found what he’d missed before. Two holes were in the ceiling, and he could make out the glint of a barrel in one. He faced Mason. “You going to slaughter us now?”

“Now, now,” Mason said. “That wouldn’t serve my needs. Corps General Ausyar will be here any minute to arrest you. He’ll see that you’re all publicly executed—the last of the bio-terrorists—will be played throughout the Collective. With your deaths, the Collective will be in balance again.” He held up a finger. “Though, I should warn you, the corps general has developed quite a grudge against you, Captain Reyne, for killing his beloved. I appreciate that you tidied up that loose end. Now, it’s time for me to tidy up mine.”

He craned his neck to peer around Critch to look at Demes. “You’re the talented young tech, are you not?”

Reyne furrowed his brow, trying to figure out was Mason had up his sleeve.

Critch took a step forward, while motioning for Demes to stay back. “Leave him out of this.”

“Ah, but I can’t. I ran a scan for data chips as you walked into this room, and that man is carrying the information you hope to broadcast.” He hit something on the remote control he carried, and a massive proton blast shot from the ceiling. Reyne covered his eyes from the scalding heat. When the heat dissipated, he looked to see a blackened body, more ash than flesh, lay charred on the floor.

“Demes,” Critch murmured and snapped around to face Mason.

Mason tamped the air with his hands. “I apologize for the primitive manner of execution, but I can’t risk anyone accessing the data chips he carried.”

Critch took a deep breath. He walked forward and tapped on the clear pane with his pistol. “How airtight is this plastic pane, Mason?”

The man narrowed his gaze. “What do you mean?”

The pirate smiled. “When we first got here, you ran a scan for data chips. But, you didn’t run a scan for biological agents, though, did you?” He pulled out a test tube and dangled it.

Mason’s face blanched. “What are you doing with that?”

“As you said, I’m the headstrong one. So, tell me, if you shoot me and I drop this vial, what’s going to happen? I’m betting your little guns aimed at me aren’t enough to kill every spore before it’s airborne. I’m guessing this blight will take out me, you, hell, all of First City.”

“There are millions of innocents here. You can’t possibly—”

“Innocents are always the first casualties of war,” Critch snapped back.

Critch threw a quick glance at Reyne before turning back to Mason. “You’re going to let us walk right out that door, and you’re not going to alert the authorities or do anything else to draw attention to us. You know why? Because even when I leave this shithole of a planet, I plan to stash a vial of blight in the middle of First City. And, it’ll be in a trap that I can set off on any whim. Do I make myself clear?”

Mason’s chest heaved, and his face had turned a plum red. He pulled out a remote and clicked it. The door opened. “You may be buying yourselves minutes today, but the CUF will hunt you to the ends of the universe.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Staring into the Abyss

Heid

Heid replayed the news segment again. She rubbed her burning eyes, inhaled, and tapped her comm. “Sebin, report to my quarters.”

“On my way.”

She was on her feet and standing by the time he arrived a minute later.

When he saw her, he frowned. “Is everything all right?”

“No. Everything’s not all right.” She replayed the news segment onto her wall panel. The volume was muted, but the pictures of the fugitives on Alluvia told the story. She recognized the profiles. Not all of them, but she’d recognize the scarred face of Critch anywhere.

She shot Sebin a hard look. “They made it to the surface. Yet, I never received any messages.”

His brow knit together. “I don’t understand. Maybe they were unable to send you a message.”

She shook her head. “You betrayed me, Painter.”

He pointed to himself. “What? I would never betray you. My job is to protect you.”

“You contacted Mason.”

His eyes widened. “Well, yes, but he—”

“You were not to contact Mason!” Her fists shook. She calmed herself down with a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “You were to contact Aeronaut and only Aeronaut. I gave you explicit instructions to not contact Mason under any circumstances. He could not know what we were doing.”

“I didn’t contact him, I swear it. He reached out to me. He said he was helping us out from the ground.”

“He lied,” she said bluntly. “It’s not your fault. I should’ve known he’d put his claws into your head and turn you into his spy.”

“No,” Sebin replied, incredulous. “I’m no spy. He—”

“Played you, just like he plays everyone, and now a future we’ve sacrificed everything for is now in jeopardy, all because of your betrayal. Only Mason would have the authority to block my messages. Those men—” she pointed to the screen. “Were counting on my support when they reached Alluvia, and I failed them because I never received their messages. Now, they’re all likely dead.”

She pulled out her gun and aimed it at Sebin, the one person to whom she’d given her trust. A mistake she’d never make again. She needed to hold the gun with both her hands to keep it steady.

Sebin gazed into her eyes for a moment. He stood taller, but didn’t click his heels as he’d always done in the past. Instead, he spoke softly. “I love you.”

Her lips trembled. She clenched her jaw and then shot him through the heart.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The Stuff of Nightmares

Reyne, Critch and the others ran through the warehouse and out the front door. They saw Mason climb into the hovercraft that they’d arrived in and peel away, leaving them with no vehicles in the area. In the distance, the hum of multiple hovercrafts was drawing nearer. Sixx chose the first direction and led them around the building and away from the street side.

The other side of the warehouse wasn’t much better. Reyne frowned as he looked at the rows of warehouses. “We’re too exposed out here.”

“I could use a hovercraft right about now,” Critch said.

“We’ll take the water,” Boden offered.

Reyne shot a glance at his mechanic.

“The water?” Sixx asked. “I thought they were full of sea monsters.”

“The catfish hunt mostly at night. Trust me. Some tenured runaways even live under the platforms. We only have to swim down twenty feet or so.”

“Twenty feet?” Reyne asked.

Critch scowled. “I grew up on Terra. What in the eversea would make you think I could swim?”

“I grew up in Ice Port,” Reyne said. “I’d never even seen a real lake until I left Playa.”

Boden rolled his eyes. “Can none of you swim?”

“I can,” Sixx said as a matter-of-fact.

“I can, too,” Chutt said. “Though diving twenty feet straight down doesn’t sound easy.”

“I can doggy paddle,” Birk said.

“That doesn’t count,” Boden countered.

“Three out of seven, not great odds,” Critch said.

“I’ll take two of you down with,” Boden said. “I can come back for two more unless Sixx and Chutt and each take one.”

“Sure. I’ll take someone,” Sixx offered.

“I’ll take Doc then,” Chutt added quickly.

She sighed against the pirate and mouthed the words, thank you. The pirate gave her a look of distaste and took a step back from her.

Boden nodded. “Good call. She’s the smallest, so she should be the easiest. Okay, Sixx you take Birk. That leaves me with the captains.”

They followed the Alluvian to the edge of the platform that ran alongside the row of warehouses. Hovercraft engines and voices barking commands came closer and closer.

“We need to hurry,” Reyne said.

Boden watched the water. His eyes darting around as though searching for something. “This is a good spot. Go through your gear and get rid of everything you can and ditch the rest in the water. Be careful not to make a splash. Climb in slowly and grip the ropes along the pontoons. Whatever you do, don’t splash any water. Do not make any quick movements. You have to trust me on this.”

“I take splashing is a bad thing.”

“Only if you don’t want to draw in a school of killer fish.” Boden sat and edged himself over and down the pontoon, entering the water without making the slightest wave. He went under, and Reyne found himself holding his own breath. Boden lifted his head out of the water seconds later. “Everything’s clear. Your turns. Get in.”

Reyne took a deep breath and was seriously, intensely scared. Stepping into a bottomless ocean was terrifying enough. Stepping into a pit of razor-toothed sea monsters was what nightmares were made of. Reyne sat on the edge and lowered himself into the surprisingly tepid water. He felt the warmth of Boden’s hand on his back, and he found the touch calmed his terror. He didn’t go in as smoothly as Boden had, but he also didn’t make a splash. Once he was in, Critch followed at the same time Sixx and Chutt entered the water.

Reyne held himself up, afraid to go under the surface as though he were safe as long as his head was above water. Birk went in next and Boden helped him down.

The voices shouting commands were getting louder, and Reyne suspected the CUF had discovered that their prey had escaped the warehouse.

Doc sat on the platform. She looked at Reyne. “I’m sorry. I never knew how to tell you. They caught me at the farm. They threatened—”

“Later,” Reyne snapped back. “Get in the water.”

She slid in a bit too fast, but Boden caught her before she went all the way under. He helped her grab onto a rope, and she remained frozen, eyes wide.

“I’ll take lead,” Boden said. “Sixx and Chutt, you follow. Now, don’t worry if you lose me. Just keep diving down against the pontoon until you reach the bottom. Use the pontoon to keep pulling yourself down if you have to. Then go under it and head straight up to the surface. Your ears may hurt, but it’s not deep enough to do any damage.”

The voices grew perilously near.

Boden heard them, too, because he rushed over to grab onto Reyne and Critch. “It’s like moving in space. I can move faster if you’re limp. Trust me, I won’t let go of you. Okay, take the deepest inhale you can and let yourselves become dead weight. Let out a little air on the way, but remember to never inhale under water.”

Reyne glanced at Critch, who was busy watching Boden. When Boden sucked in a breath, they each did the same. Reyne found himself yanked under the surface, and his first instincts were to kick back up. He fought against them and instead imagined himself in a Zero-G simulator at the space dock.

He opened his eyes, and found he could see under the surface, though the water distorted things. Pressure built in his ears until it downright hurt, and he instinctively grabbed his nose and cleared his ears.

Boden continued diving down, and everything darkened. Reyne found himself in awe of the speed at which they sank, but his lungs began to burn. Even with all the time he’d spent in suits and conserving his air, he craved to breathe, and they hadn’t even reached the bottom yet. He grew more and more fearful that he’d drown.

A huge dark shape moved past them. Green eyes glowed on a head the size of Reyne’s chest. As he reached for his knife, and the sea creature came toward them. He was ready to stab at it, only it didn’t get close enough and continued past them.

Reyne gripped his blade, waiting for an attack from. But, then the pontoon was suddenly above him and he scraped under its slimy bottom. Reyne thought Boden swam fast before. That was nothing compared to the speed they shot upward once they cleared the bottom of the pontoon. He’d barely blown out the last of his air when they broke through the surface.

Reyne sucked in fresh air in gasps and pointed with his knife. “Sea monster. Down. Below.”

“It was only a cod,” Boden replied. “More inquisitive than aggressive, but if you would’ve cut it, you would’ve drawn in every blood-eater in the area.”

Reyne eyed his blade and then promptly sheathed it.

Boden motioned to the rafters above them. “Pull yourselves up onto the support beams to get clear of the water. Try not to make much noise because there’s less than a foot of platform between us and everyone on the surface. I need to go check on the others.”

He took a deep breath and disappeared below the surface. “I want that man on my crew,” Critch said.

“Over my dead body,” Reyne muttered. “When this is over with, I’m going to have him teach me how to swim.”

“Now, who’s the optimist,” the other man said before grabbing onto a rafter and lifting himself out of the water.

Critch made it look easy. Reyne grabbed a rafter and made it look damn near impossible. He splashed water and froze, expecting the worst.

“Here.” The pirate held out a hand and grabbed Reyne’s leg and helped him pull himself the rest of the way out of the water.

“I’m still a little off from getting shot,” Reyne said as if that explained everything.

Critch, mercifully, didn’t offer a rebuttal.

A second later, Sixx and Birk broke the surface, both gasping and sounding even more desperate for air than Reyne had.

“Up here,” Critch said and then pointed above him. “But do it quiet-like.”

Neither wasted any time in getting out of the water.

“I think that may have been the worst experience in my life,” Sixx said once he was safe on a beam.

“Worse than that woman on—”

“Worse,” Sixx finished.

Boden and Chutt broke through the surface, and Reyne frowned. “Where’s Doc?”

Chutt took a couple more breaths and pulled himself up. “She started kicking. I had to let her go.”

Boden eyed Chutt for a moment before giving Reyne an expression that made it all too clear what Boden believed had really happened.

“She was gone by the time I got to her,” Boden said and lifted himself onto the rafters.

Reyne stared into the dark water as though Doc surface any second. A sense of loss poked at the edges of his heart, but it was subdued. Strange, he thought, since he’d worked alongside her for so many years. He realized it was because she’d already died in his mind. He lost her back in the warehouse when he found out that she’d lied to him. For over twenty years she’d served on his crew, hell, even shared his bed, and knew—she knew—how much it tore up Reyne being seen as a traitor, let alone all the punches he’d taken and shitty jobs because of his reputation. Still, she’d said nothing and just played along, as though she were being compassionate. Hell, she was just being selfish and weak.

He may possibly mourn her death someday.

But, that day definitely wasn’t today.

“Please tell me I never have to get in that water again,” Sixx said.

“You never have to get in that water again,” Boden said. He pointed at a one-foot wide beams. “We walk the rest of the way.”

Reyne looked up and frowned. “How the hell do we walk those?”

“Very carefully,” Critch replied.

Six hours later, they’d covered a mile, and every joint and muscle in Reyne’s body ached.

Boden got them to the surface through a surface hole cover. Once they were standing on solid ground, Reyne cocked his head at the cover. “Now, why the hell didn’t we use one of these to get below the surface the first time?”

Boden shrugged. “I thought it was safer this way.”

“Call me surprised, we’re still alive,” Critch said. “Only one thing. We’re still stuck in the middle of enemy territory.”

Reyne’s wrist-comm chimed, and he read the short message, and he burst out laughing. “Well, I’ll be goddamned.”

Critch frowned. “What’s so funny?”

“Boys, we’re traveling home in style, but we’ve got to hurry. And, we have the little problem of getting from here to the space dock without being seen. I’m guessing our faces are plastered on every screen on the planet by now.”

“Leave that to me,” Critch said and turned to Chutt. “It think it’s time you have a smoke.”

Chutt grinned. “Hell yeah.”

Five minutes later, Reyne stood in the shadows near the dock entrance watching Chutt walk casually down the sidewalk.

“It’s a little trick I like to call the Fire Feint,” Critch said next to Reyne.

Chutt dropped a lit cigarette near a hovercraft. Within seconds, the craft’s smoke alarms sounded, and everyone in the vicinity turned to the noise.

“Now,” Critch said, and they all strode through the entrance and down the docks, careful to not look up at any cameras.

“Seriously, where do you even find a cigarette nowadays?” Sixx asked Critch.

“Chutt makes them himself. They taste like shit and will burn your throat raw for a week, but they work like a charm.”

They didn’t slow down until the ship came into sight, and Reyne found himself grinning from ear to ear.

Critch’s jaw dropped. “How the hell did she manage to get the Gryphon onto Alluvia?”

Reyne didn’t answer. Instead, he hustled to the ramp and ran to the bridge, where he found Throttle already strapped in.

“Fuck you for leaving me,” she said before he had chance to speak. “Strap in. We’re running out of time.”

He kissed her forehead and squeezed her shoulder before he took a seat. “I can’t tell you how good it is to see you.

Critch entered the bridge. “Throttle, I think I want to marry you,” he said as he took a seat.

“Take a number,” she said before returning to her pre-launch prep. “Dock control, this is Phantom Alluvia-Two-Three-Hilo-Four-Two. Ready for departure.”

“Phantom Hilo-Four-Two. You are cleared for immediate launch. Moving you onto launch pad Zulu Thirty-one. Have a nice flight.”

Throttle smiled sweetly. “Thank you, dock patrol. Have a good day.”

She leaned back in her seat, and Reyne cocked his head. “How’d the Gryphon get an Alluvian ID?”

“The Gryphon was destroyed at Ice Port, remember? My new friend Gabriela Heid loaned me the ID. Her father just so happens to have a Phantom III class gunship sitting in his personal collection. She gave me her personal assurance that his ship would not be making any kind of flight plans for the foreseeable future.” She turned and winked. “It sounds like his hangar platform suffered a pontoon failure and is about two hundred feet below the surface as we speak.”

Reyne stared at the docks for a long moment. “So, we’re flying out of Alluvia under Mason’s banner.”

Critch barked out a laugh. “I wish I could see his face when he finds out how he helped us escape.”

“Who’s Mason?” Throttle asked.

“Long story. We’ll fill you in on the way back.”

“Where are we headed?” she asked.

“Nova Colony,” Critch said.

Reyne looked back at Critch. “Why not Tulan Base?”

The pirate took apart his pistol and pulled out a data chip. “Because we have unfinished business.”

Chapter Thirty

Full Circle

Reyne and Critch sat in silence in the pirate’s office at Nova Colony. A light on the panel blinked when the data chip’s contents finished copying onto Critch’s system.

“I’m no tech,” he said. “But, I know that if I upload this data to the Net, there are techs out there who will know what to do with it.”

“The timing is right,” Reyne said. “The fungicide should be dropping on Sol Base right about now. With a show of good faith like that, the fringe will take notice. I only hope it will be enough to stop Ausyar.”

Critch moved to press the upload button.

Reyne grabbed his arm. “Wait.”

“What?”

“It’s missing one thing.” He reached into the neck of his shirt and lifted out the medallion he wore.

Critch’s lips curled. “How right you are.” After several keystrokes, he flipped the screen so Reyne could see the cover added to the data file. It was a simple gray cover, blank except for a single torrent teardrop in its center.

Reyne leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Now, it’s ready.”

The pirate tapped a button, and the word UPLOADED appeared over the file.

“It’s done.” Critch reached into a drawer and pulled out a bottle of bourbon. He then pulled out two glasses, and filled them both.

He slid a glass over to Reyne. “For Demes being a damned good tech and smart enough to make a copy of his data.”

“For Demes. He was a good pirate.”

“He was a good torrent.”

They clinked their glasses, and each took a long drink.

“I received a message from Heid,” Reyne said. “She wants to meet to join forces.”

“I received the same one.”

“She didn’t set us up,” Reyne said. “We can trust her.”

“You sure about that?”

“What’s your gut tell you?” Reyne countered.

Critch took another drink. “That we should meet with her again.” He swirled the drink in his glass. “If I find out she betrayed us, I won’t hesitate to kill her and take her ship.”

“I know,” Reyne said. “But, if she didn’t betray us, having an Alluvian captain and her warship on our side speaks volumes to the Collective.”

After a contemplative moment, Reyne spoke again. “The blight. Why’d you take it?”

“Because a pirate always prepares for the worst.”

“Would you have used it?”

Critch looked over his glass. “What do you think?”

Reyne narrowed his eyes as he examined the other man. “I don’t know.”

“There’s your answer.”

They drank in silence.

Critch drained his glass and set it down. “It’s safe to say a new Uprising has begun.”

“Uprising?” Reyne’s jaw tightened. “No, we just started a war.”