Here's today's chapter :)

Thanks for reading!

Reminder: I have a conference starting on Thursday, so I'll very likely miss Thursday and Sunday's chapters (the 10th and 13th). If things are slow and I get a chance to write in my hotel room, I'll do it, but no promises.

See you Tuesday!

-Plum

11 – A Monster Lurks

Sass’s face went from a mask of concentration to one of frustration as her Aura Blade finished forming. She gave it two swings, then threw her hands up in disgust as it broke apart into white mist. “That wasn’t any faster, was it?”

Hector shook his head. “You know the answer. Ask Merlin.”

She collapsed onto the mat, groaning. “I know.”

Hector understood her frustration, but he tried to temper it. “You can’t expect to get faster every day. You’re already four percent faster than when you first summoned the blade. Think about that. Even if you only improved that much every year, you’d—”

“Hector!” she cried. “Don’t say that!”

He waved a hand. “You get my point. Aura mastery doesn’t happen overnight. Every little improvement will add up over time. Besides, you haven’t even processed any potentia yet; when you start improving your corpus—” He paused, shaking his head. “Your aura pathways. Improving them will also reduce your time.”

Other than Burton, who was quietly stretching in the corner, they were alone in the training bay. It had been a long, arduous afternoon of sparring, and the others had been quick to head off to the showers and to get some food. Hector and Sass had a routine, though; they always worked together for an hour or two after Burton’s scheduled activities.

Even so, Sass looked around almost nervously, as if to be sure no one was listening, before holding up her chromed fists. “Do you think these are slowing me down?”

Hector shrugged. “Maybe—a little.” She’d never told him why she had cybernetic hands, but he got the feeling it hadn’t been by choice. When her frown deepened and she stared at her hands, flexing and relaxing her fingers, he added, “It’s not a big deal. I’ve known lots of strong aura users with cybernetics, and you can always save up to get rift tech.”

She looked up sharply. “Like Gladia?”

He nodded. “Her arm is something else.”

“Lemon told me she saw her shoot a drone out of the sky with it. She said it changed shape, so it looked like a gun.”

“Probably an aura ability enhanced by the arm—some rift materials conduct or even amplify aura.” Hector hadn’t bothered measuring it, but he was pretty sure he could form his Aura Blade even faster thanks to the similite in his bones.

“Show me again,” Sass said, her tone pleading.

Hector, already seated, held out his right hand. He didn’t mind indulging her; besides, it was a good exercise for her to try to trace his aura as he formed his blade. With practiced ease and hardly a thought, he summoned the weapon. Crimson aura bloomed on his shoulders, but almost instantly flowed down his arm and into his hand, where, if one were to blink, they’d miss it taking shape as a long, crimson knife—mirror-finished and pouring off red steam.

“I barely counted to one!” Sass cried.

From the corner of the room, Burton grunted and said, “You’ll never get that fast.”

Sass looked down, and her skull tattoo darkened.

Hector released his blade and turned to glower at Burton. “You don’t know how fast she’ll get.”

“I’m not trying to discourage her,” the older man said, lying on his back as he pulled his right knee toward his chest. “I’m trying to keep her realistic. I’ve trained fighters my whole life, and I follow all the greats. Let me tell you a secret, Saskia: none of them are that fast.”

“Really?” Sass looked from Burton to Hector.

Hector shrugged.

Burton said, “Of course, some of the most powerful aura users don’t really show off publicly. The Emperor’s Praetorians, for instance. I’ve seen a few of them fight in recordings—duels and whatnot—but it’s hard to get a good feel of their capability when they show off as little as possible.”

“Why’s that?” Sass asked.

“Because they have too many enemies,” Hector replied.

Burton nodded. “Exactly. If they threw everything they had at each other in a duel, then all the people who want to hurt them or the Imperial family would know what they’re capable of.”

“So they just do what they have to do,” Sass said, nodding.

“Kind of like your mentor there. He hasn’t told me squat about his other abilities.” Before Sass could reply or pester Hector for something more, Burton added, “Hit the showers, kid. I need to talk to Hector for a few minutes.”

Sass looked at Hector, and he nodded, so she hopped to her feet. “See you later, then.”

He held up his fist, and she popped her knuckles against his before turning to pad out of the training bay. Hector looked at Burton. The big man was fighting against his girth to hold both knees to his chest as he rocked back and forth on his back. “What are we talking about?”

With a sigh, Burton let his legs flop down to the mat, and he rolled onto his side to face him. “We’re more than halfway to your mysterious destination. Figured you deserved an installment—some of Lady Ventress’s potentia.” He reached into the cargo pocket on his fatigues and drew something small out, tossing it toward Hector. It hit the mat and rolled toward him.

When the object came close, Hector snatched it up—a silvery disc about the size of an antique coin. It was a potentia bank, just like the one Gladia had given him for taking out Lux. “How much?”

“Six hundred.”

Hector grunted. “Good.”

//You’ll get at least one level out of that.//

Hector nodded, sliding it into a pocket. “My archetype is hungry.”

“So you keep telling me,” Burton said, clambering to his feet.

Hector stood and started for the exit. “I promised Freddy another visit.”

Burton didn’t reply, and for a moment, Hector thought he’d let him leave without another word. Then the big man cleared his throat and asked, “What about your friend? Mathews?”

Hector paused and turned. “What about her?”

“I mean, has there been any progress? Any change?”

Hector shook his head. “Paige is still researching.” He sighed. “I guess I better head down there, too.”

“Easy for the days to slip by on a journey like this, especially when you work your ass off every waking minute.”

“Yeah…” Hector almost told him he knew that all too well, but he’d given enough of his history away to Burton and the people he worked for. Instead, he just nodded and said, “Appreciate it.”

“Tomorrow, then.”

Hector left, heading for the elevator. His stomach rumbled, and he knew he ought to eat, especially if he was going to process the aura potentia Burton had just given him and start another level. With that in mind, he selected the mess hall deck, but before the elevator started moving, the selection changed to the bridge deck.

//Mae just told me that something’s come up and Gladia needs to see you.//

Hector sighed. “Mae, tell her I’m going to see Freddy after I eat.”

As the elevator started moving, Mae’s voice came through the hidden speaker. “I’m sorry, Hector, but this is something a bit more urgent.”

Hearing that something was “urgent” while inside a giant metallic egg hurtling through space had a way of making Hector’s imagination break free of its usual restraints. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t want to step on Gladia’s toes, Hector. Please, just go to the bridge, and she’ll explain everything.”

By then the elevator had come to a stop, and when the doors opened, Hector strode down the corridor toward the bridge. Mae was loyal to Gladia, and it wasn’t worth arguing with her. “I just hope it’s not something wrong with the ship.”

//I haven’t noticed any anomalies with the gravity generation or propulsion.//

The doors to the bridge slid open, and he walked through. Gladia stood near the command console, and, contrary to every other time he’d come to the bridge, all the other stations were occupied by personnel. When she saw him, Gladia waved him over. “Hector.”

“What’s the emergency?”

“We’re still four days out from the Trojan Field, but Mae’s been watching the long-range scanner, looking for any hint of trouble. Well, unfortunately, she found something.”

“What?”

Gladia pursed her lips, shaking her head before replying, “She briefly picked up a drive plume, and she matched the signature to a known vessel. It’s an old Titan Confederacy destroyer called Grendel, and it’s operated by a pirate group known as Molly’s Mercantile. If we maintain our current course, we’ll be flying directly toward them.”

“Seems like a big coincidence.”

“Exactly—the Trojan Field is enormous, and a ship among all those asteroids would be like a…well, like a pebble thrown into a lake. If that destroyer is lurking out there, waiting, then it means they’ve had intelligence from Mars. It’s something our enemies would do—hire pirates to do their dirty work.”

Hector clicked his tongue. “The Empire needs to hide its dirty work?”

“Of course! Killing members of a Great House with no proof of wrongdoing would stir up a lot of resentment. In fact, it might cause more problems than it would solve—for House Lautrec, I mean.”

“So? Change course?”

She shook her head. “We can try, but it’s probably too late. If Mae could, however briefly, pick up their drive plume, then they can surely see us. I’m sure they have an installation on one of the larger asteroids. Even if they don’t, Mae researched their faction, and one of the ships in their fleet is a former Imperial reconnaissance cutter—the Argus. There’s no doubt it’s capable of spotting us. We have to assume so, anyway.”

Hector folded his arms, recognizing what was going on. Their only real option, as far as Gladia would be able to see, was to turn around and burn hard back toward Mars. Still, he tried to dig for another option. “Fleet? How many ships?”

“According to Mae, Molly’s Mercantile has nine ships. Some are small—inconsequential to Maidensong—but there are a few that could pose a significant threat. We don’t know that they’re all lying in wait, but the key threat is their flagship—Grendel. It could best Maidensong if we’re unlucky. If they weren’t pirates—if their ship weren’t in such a dilapidated state—we wouldn’t stand a chance.”

Hector turned to face the viewscreen, his eyes moving from one bright point of light to another, imagining that they were moons or asteroids behind which lurked hostile ships. “If we had a fold-drive…”

“This would be a moot point,” Gladia said, finishing his thought.

“Your navigators don’t think we can evade them when we get to the field?”

“Not likely; they’ll expect us to try, so they’ll run simulations and prepare for the eventuality.”

Hector clenched his jaw, his mind playing out likely scenarios based on their actions. Of course he wanted to demand that they press on—that there was a chance they’d be able to slip past the pirates in the asteroid field or even take some of them out. After all, Maidensong wasn’t helpless. Still, despite his previous bluster, he couldn’t justify risking the lives of everyone who meant anything to him so that he could try to get ahold of a ship that might not even be there.

Eventually, he turned away from the screen and shook his head. “I guess we have to turn around. I should’ve chartered a no-name ship. It just seemed so damned convenient, and Maidensong is capable…” He sighed, shrugging. “I’ll try again after the Games.”

Gladia smiled at him, stepping closer. “I didn’t expect that reaction. You continue to impress me, Hector.” She shook her head, gesturing to the viewscreen. “Unfortunately, if this is a trap set by our enemies—” She lowered her voice and leaned toward him, practically whispering. “—the Empire, then they won’t be sloppy about it. No, there will be other attackers waiting to see if we come rushing back to Mars.”

Hector grunted, picturing cloaked Imperial dreadnoughts lying in wait.

Gladia continued, “Of course, we could change course entirely and flee toward one of the other busy shipping lanes—Earth or Saturn or even away from the asteroid field, directly toward Jovian space. If we did that, though, we’d come under scrutiny again and risk some other form of interference. We may miss our chance to return to Mars before the Games.”

Hector frowned at her, glancing around the bridge at all the busy officers. “So you have another plan?”

She nodded. “Flint’s feeling better. In a few days, he may be up for a fight. What about you?”

He stared, narrowing his eyes. Suddenly everything clicked, and he knew what was really going on there. It wasn’t just that Gladia feared another ambush if they turned around—she wanted him to get his hands on a fold-enabled ship. No doubt her brother felt the same way. As long as Hector was her ally, the value of such a vessel to their cause was immeasurable. Of course, she was assuming he’d remain an ally…

Brushing those ideas aside, he closed his eyes and pressed his thumbs to his temples, really thinking about what she was asking. He’d boarded vessels before—in Venus space during the Aphrodite Uprising. It had been a living hell—a nightmare of inconsistent gravity; balls of plasma crackling through the void; blood, body parts, and explosions that never ended; radiation that could microwave a human like a tube of cured meat. The screams that had reverberated through the pockets of atmosphere still haunted his dreams.

Still, he’d been young then, and he hadn’t been nearly as strong with aura. In fact, he had a trick up his sleeve in his current life that he’d never had access to previously. He tried to envision it, playing it out in his mind…

“Hector?”

He blinked and refocused on Gladia’s face. “You can keep them from attacking your ship? Stall them long enough for us to board?”

She nodded. “They’ll try to board us, too. All of my officers and Mae agree: they’ll want Maidensong too badly to attack her directly—not if they don’t have to.”

“So it’ll be a race.”

Gladia nodded. “We’ll defend Maidensong while you and Flint attack their flagship.”

Hector shook his head. “No. Keep Flint for defense. I’ll take out Grendel.”