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Enjoy today's chapter :)

-Plum

14 – Seems Like a Trap

Hector clung to Maidensong’s hull like a barnacle on a sea vessel, his suit making him nearly invisible to scanners and optics. He was a shadow among shadows in the blackness of space, especially with the only illumination coming in bursts that threw yet more shadows from debris against the ship’s hull. The pirates were already probing Maidensong’s defenses, sending waves of drones with the hope of landing a few dozen on the ship’s hull.

Once a drone connected to the ship, it would bore tiny holes, attempting to thread conductive nanites into the ship’s systems—electrical or otherwise—from which it could begin to infiltrate the network. Mae would be forced to dedicate processor time to fighting off the attacking daemons, which would theoretically slow down targeting and defensive countermeasures. It was an old tactic, though, and Maidensong was a well-maintained ship; it wouldn’t be easy to infiltrate her network.

Meanwhile, Grendel grew ever nearer, gradually matching Maidensong’s velocity. Hector watched another burst of point-defense cannon fire, tearing apart a flight of drones, and he couldn’t help wondering if Grendel might catch him in a similar volley. He was counting on the aged ship to let him slip through while it focused on distractions launched by Gladia.

//Thirty seconds!//

Hector glanced at his AUI. His mini-map was expanded to a fourth of his field of view, displaying the ships and their trajectories. His path was outlined in blue, and the timer was blinking as it counted down: 27…26…25…24…

All he had to do was push off in the right direction, and then Evie would do the rest with his air pack’s maneuvering jets. He’d be moving a lot slower than the drones Gladia would launch, so, for a while, he’d be floating out there, utterly at the mercy of fate, hoping that none of the ships or targeting AIs would notice him.

//Ten…nine…//

Hector bunched his knees, angling himself toward the space ahead of Grendel’s prow. When Evie’s countdown reached zero, he pushed off—not too hard, but hard enough. At the same time, Evie turned off the magnetic anchors on the soles of his suit’s boots, and he soared away, drifting into the void.

Hector looked at his comms display, focusing on Gladia’s name. “I’m off.” Evie would transmit the encrypted communication through a narrow-beam optical transmitter on Hector’s helmet; there was little chance Grendel would detect it.

Her reply was instant: “Perfect timing. Launching distraction in ninety seconds.”

The bursts of light were comfortingly distant, and Hector turned his head to watch as the flares briefly lit up Maidensong’s egg-shaped hull. Even presenting her aft section to the pirates, she was a big ship—not capital-sized, but large enough to fill many roles in a pirate organization. Her five drive plumes were quiet; she’d slowed to a near-stop relative to the asteroids in the field. Even so, they glowed with an amber promise, ready to explode with a volcano’s fury if coaxed to life.

Grendel was different—rectangular and gray and studded with asymmetrical protrusions—bays, weapons, antennas, and built-out component housings. It was an old ship and heavily modified, but it still looked like what it had been designed as: a warship. Even so, as Hector studied the long, gray silhouette, Evie highlighted dark areas and obviously broken components—defunct scanner arrays, pitted and broken turrets, and patchwork repairs to the hull. Grendel had seen better days.

As he studied the ship, slowly growing larger in his field of view, Evie maneuvered him with tiny puffs of air so that his approach angle was beneath the prow—toward what would be the ground-level hangar bay door if the ship ever put down on a planet or at a shipyard. Hector grew so engrossed in his progress, watching as the ship grew larger and larger, that he was almost caught by surprise by the sparkling lights of Grendel’s point-defense cannons lighting up Gladia’s drone swarm.

//Tether in thirty seconds!//

Hector lifted his left arm, pointing it toward the incoming bay door—easily fifty meters by forty. Evie had highlighted the floor-level viewport at the bottom left-hand corner, and he aimed his targeting reticle just above it. More flashes told him Grendel was still dispatching Gladia’s drones.

//Ten…nine—//

“They’re launching boarding pods!” Gladia’s announcement caught Hector by surprise. They’d expected shuttles and interceptors, not torpedo-like pods.

“How many?”

//Three…two—//

“Seventeen!”

“Dammit…”

//One…fire!//

Hector didn’t think; he just triggered the tether. Evie refined his aim, and he watched as the thread-like anchor line spooled out of his wrist launcher. The adhesive harpoon hit true, and Evie triggered the winch, dragging him toward the bay door.

Gladia was still speaking through comms, “…do your job; we’ll handle the boarders!”

Hector didn’t reply; there wasn’t much he could say to make it easier for them. The fact of the matter was that they’d hoped for several shuttles of pirates; Gladia had planned to allow two through. If seventeen pods breached Maidensong, then they’d have a lot harder time containing the invasion. He was sure she’d still try to take some of them out before they hit the ship, but pods were different from shuttles; they moved ten times faster and were armored to hell and back—built for punching through hulls. Hector doubted she’d stop many.

As the tether tugged him toward his entry point, he quietly fumed. These pirates shouldn’t have pods.

//None of the intel Gladia sourced indicated they had the capability, no.//

Their backers? A Ventress faction? Is there an Imperial dreadnought lurking nearby? One that supplied the pods? What other tricks did they provide?

//All good questions, Hector, but you should pay attention—//

Evie’s warning was cut off as he closed with the door, stuck out his feet and softly “landed” on the alloy surface. “Relax,” he muttered into his helmet. Evie disconnected the tether, and he used the grippy magnets in his gloves to pull himself closer to the viewport. The diamond-glass—he assumed—was coated with grime and residue, but when he scraped his glove over it, the stuff cleared away enough for him to get a view of the interior.

Dim amber lighting revealed a cavernous space filled with all manner of stuff—tarp-covered vehicles, pallets, heavy equipment, barrels, crates, and a hundred other things. Tools littered the floor and workspaces, and toward the back of the bay, he saw two figures moving in the dim light. One of them exhaled a cloud of chemical smoke as Hector tried to get a better view. He gave up and focused on the open area near the bay doors.

“Here goes,” he muttered, spurred on by the knowledge that Sass and the others were going to be in trouble sooner rather than later. As he pulled the aura into his Ghost Leap ability, he pushed down a wave of guilt.

Should have turned the ship around. Should have known Gladia’s enemies wouldn’t send under-equipped killers—

The thoughts fled his mind as hot aura exploded through him. The veil opened and pulled him through. Gray, liminal space blurred past, and then he was out, slipping through a rip in the universe to stand upon the plasteel decking of Grendel’s main cargo bay. Hector was pleased to see he’d almost hit his mark, but he didn’t stand there gloating. He took two steps, gliding to his right to crouch behind a plastic five-hundred-liter solvent tank.

While he and Evie listened, trying to determine if he’d been noticed, Hector hastily began to remove his EVA suit. As far as those types of suits went, it wasn’t nearly as bulky as some Hector had seen, but it was too bulky for proper combat—especially stealth-based. He set the helmet on the ground at his feet. He could hear distant voices behind the hum of machinery and the faint reverberation of cannons and explosions. Despite the ship’s combat status, no alarms were going off—no flashing red lights.

Pirates.

He unsealed his suit from collar to crotch, and then he hastily peeled it off his arms and down to his feet. A moment later, after slipping his lightweight combat shoes out of the bulky magnetic boots, he carefully stuffed the suit and helmet between the tank and a pallet of water barrels. Then, he crept around the tank, scanning the far end of the bay, checking it against the schematics Gladia’s intel had secured of Grendel’s interior.

Technically, the schematics weren’t specific to Grendel, but to the ship’s original model. They were a hundred years old, and there was no telling how many modifications Grendel’s various owners had made over the decades. Still, he saw the interior doors exactly where they were supposed to be—right behind the two crew he’d noticed earlier.

Hector wasn’t averse to killing pirates; this was warfare and there was no doubt the boarders currently assaulting Maidensong would be firing live ammunition, but he wanted to remain undetected for as long as possible. Every body he left behind would add another ticking clock. With that in mind, as he drifted through the shadows, approaching the two rough-looking characters, he gathered his aura and activated Shadow Stalk.

He might have flared with a faint crimson glow, but only for a fraction of a second before the light began to bend around him and he became part of the shadows in which he skulked. His vision was tinted crimson, but he could still see plainly, and he angled his steps to the right of the two pirates, aiming for the well-worn metal steps that led up to the low catwalk before the exit.

If his boots echoed on the metal, his ability masked the noise; neither pirate even glanced his way, though they kept talking and the one on the left inhaled noisily from a fat, blue-tipped chem-stick. As he exhaled and Hector slipped past, he said, “Feels weird, doesn’t it? Like someone threw us a big, juicy scrap. Seems like a trap.”

“Molly’s smart,” the other pirate muttered, but he sounded less than convinced. Hector padded up the stairs, then paused before the door. It wasn’t locked, but if he opened it, they would be sure to notice. Still, on a ship that old, sometimes things tended to malfunction…

Hector touched the beat-up, chrome-plated OPEN button, and the doors clicked and rattled, then trundled open. He slipped through as soon as the opening was wide enough, hoping the men wouldn’t look in time to discern any oddities in the light.

As he padded down the corridor, he heard their fading voices as they speculated about who was there, but neither moved to investigate. Hector glanced at his map; Evie had traced a route for him, but he already saw a problem; there was supposed to be a fifty-meter length of corridor leading to a junction, but directly ahead he saw a gray plasteel wall and doors leading left and right.

He hesitated for a moment, but when Evie didn’t provide any guidance, he went with his gut and opened the left-hand door. Another corridor led away for about twenty meters, ending in a set of metal steps that climbed off to the right. He charged toward them, still hidden by his aura ability. As he approached the steps, the noise level picked up, and he heard yells and commotion—feet stomping, equipment slamming, and even the rattle and rasp of metal being dragged on metal.

Engineering?

//This isn’t the right area for that—there should be a row of shuttle bays on this deck. Three on each side of the ship. You’re on the side facing Maidensong, so—//

More boarders?

Hector flew up the steps, and when he reached the top, he found himself before a heavy blue plasteel door, the label of which had long worn away. If they’re getting ready to launch shuttles after those boarding pods already hit…

He didn’t hesitate; he opened the door and slipped through. On a normal, well-maintained ship, he wouldn’t have to worry about walking into a vacuum; the door wouldn’t open for him. On this ship, however, Hector whispered a soft, “Thank you,” to the fates when he found the bay still sealed. Armed and armored pirates hurried about, loading supplies onto a sleek but well-scarred shuttle. The gray paint had long been burned black from orbital transits, and Hector could see dozens of missing ablative armor tiles along its hull.

A large man with a heavy machine gun mounted to a harness stood atop the shuttle ramp barking orders, and inside the shuttle, Hector counted six pirates already strapped in. Altogether, he counted thirteen. Thirteen heavily armed pirates with blasting charges, combat bots, and devil-knows what else. Hector grimaced, crouching by the door, weighing his options.

If that shuttle and maybe a few others were the only threat, he’d let it go; Maidensong was expecting shuttles. The problem was the boarding pods. Even as he watched these pirates getting ready to launch, there were probably pirates rampaging through Gladia’s ship. Add to that another shuttle or two full of pirates, and his people might be in real trouble.

//You might give away your presence; there are cameras in this bay, though I’m not sure if they’re working.//

Hector looked to the corners of the room and knew Evie was right. Despite his desperate urge to kill the pirates before they took off, he’d surely be noticed, and if he were noticed this early into his raid, then he’d do more harm than good to Gladia’s cause. He spied another door leading deeper into the ship when another thought occurred to him.

Doubt there are cameras in the back of that shuttle.

//Hector!//

He was already moving, gliding over the cluttered bay floor, slipping past a pair of pirates hauling a box marked EXPLOSIVES, and then up the ramp into the shuttle. As he breezed past the big guy with the heavy gun, the pirate glanced over his shoulder, but Hector was already gone—a blur of shadow and light that became impossible to see as soon as he was in the shadowy shuttle hold. He went to the front where other boxes were strapped to the decking and crouched there, studying the door to the cockpit.

Do I start with him?

//If you kill the pilot, the shuttle won’t depart—//

And I’ll be exposed.

Hector nodded, watching as the other pirates took their seats one by one. He’d have to be fast, and he’d have to be thorough. As the last pirates boarded and strapped themselves in, the big guy standing on the ramp turned to regard the band of would-be killers. “Listen, boys. We’re going in hot, but the boss just got word; Knife already got into the weapons systems; we’re clear to board.”

“Oh, hell yes! Knife’s my boy!” one of the seated pirates crowed.

The big guy grunted, stepping forward and tapping an intercom button near the hatch. “We’re good, closing her up.” As he reached for the controls for the shuttle’s rear hatch, Hector burst into action.

To the pirates sitting in the dark, shadowy shuttle hold, the flare of crimson that was Hector’s Aura Blade coincided nicely with the klaxon and flashing red lights from the shuttle bay—a clear warning that the exterior bay door would be opening soon.

They might not have noticed it; in fact, two of them definitely didn’t—Hector had already severed their spinal cords. He’d poured five aura into a Speed Boost at the same time he summoned his blade, and he’d also activated Ghost Reaver; even if the pirates saw his blade, they didn’t see him.

Crimson droplets splashed left and right as the blade flashed, and Hector advanced down the gangway. He’d dispatched half the pirates before the big guy realized anything was happening. His eyes flew wide; he opened his mouth in a startled O and fumbled for his big machine gun’s grips. In his panic, he failed to release the mount from the “stowed” position, and though he grabbed the gun’s trigger and jerked on the forestock, it wouldn’t move.

Hector never gave the seated pirates a chance to fight; most of them didn’t know there was a fight. It was over in a pair of seconds, and then, just as the crew leader’s panic crescendoed and he turned to run, Hector’s crimson blade found his throat and he collapsed back, his blood splashing out to merge with the pools spilling from the corpses of his raiders. Hector flew out the rear hatch as the ramp continued to retract. Just as his Ghost Reaver ability faded, he slid into the shadow of a strapped-down forklift.

Red lights flashed, klaxons rang, and Hector knew he had mere seconds. He still had over a hundred aura, so he hastily activated Shadow Stalk again. He’d had to drop it in order to activate Ghost Reaver; while his pathways were growing broad, they still had their limits. Once he was concealed again, he sprinted for the exit that would take him further toward the ship’s bridge—theoretically. When he slid through and the door closed behind him, he crouched down, waiting and listening.

To his relief, he heard the door’s locks thunk home, and then he heard the shuttle’s drive spool up. After a brief rumble, he knew it had taken off. That pilot is going to be surprised.

//Yes, but hopefully not until he’s completed the docking sequence, which will be several minutes from now.//

Shame about the potentia. Hector looked at his mini-map. All right, let’s find that damn bridge.