Here's today's chapter! I hope you are enjoying the escalation...

Thanks for your support :)

-Plum

15 – Pressure Points

Lemon checked Kit’s headset, ensuring his ears were covered, then walked to the center of the bridge, staring at the big viewscreen and all the blinking lights. She knew Gladia saw more than just those blinking lights; her AI would be painting some kind of high-fidelity three-dimensional map for her with lots of screens and information. Hesitating to interrupt the Royal, Lemon looked around the bridge.

There were ten crew in there, including Gladia’s two remaining security officers, Gil and Vicki, who were standing near the doors, guns at hand. Crowded into the corner where Kit watched his vids were another dozen “high-value” targets, including Paige. Lemon was glad she was there—a friend among strangers—though she’d only spent a few days working with her, and none of them recent; Hector had pulled her away to help treat his friend, the commander lady, Mathews.

“Something you needed?” Gladia asked, glancing at her.

“I heard the crew—something about boarding pods? Then…well, when the ship shook, some of the people nearby started talking. Are the pirates already here?”

Gladia sighed and looked at her more squarely. “Yes, but it doesn’t matter. They were always going to get through. It just means Hector will have to move a little faster.”

“And if Hector fails?” Lemon hated to say it, but she couldn’t believe a woman like Gladia would place all her bets on one man.

“Then we go to Plan B, and if that fails, Plan C. I won’t be taken by pirates.”

Lemon licked her lips, nodding. What does that mean? She’ll blow up the ship before being taken?

Gladia surprised her by taking her wrist and gently squeezing. “Hector is aboard the pirates’ flagship. I confirmed that before things got too…hectic. You know what he’s like. Have some faith.”

Lemon forced a smile. “I trust him. It just seems like you’re asking an awful lot of him.”

“Well, it wasn’t really my idea; this was his plan, and he’s proven himself capable.” Gladia looked past her, focusing on the rich girl-woman, Iris. “We really didn’t have many options—not if we wanted to get to our destination and still return to Mars for the Games.”

“Are they so important? The Games?” Lemon still didn’t understand Hector’s angle for wanting to participate. The prize money, maybe?

Gladia looked at Lemon, locking eyes with her. “He trusts you, doesn’t he?”

“Hector?” Subconsciously, Lemon brushed her fingers over the silvery bracelet on her wrist. “I think so.”

“Then ask him about it. If he reads you in, then I’ll respect that decision.”

Lemon frowned slightly, which she covered by nervously chewing her lower lip. “Right. Okay, well, I’ll ask him about it.”

“Do that. Now, if you want to be helpful, I’d appreciate you trying to reassure the noncombat members of my crew over there. This isn’t a routine occurrence for Maidensong, and many of them are already on pins and needles after what Balus did.”

Lemon knew Gladia was manipulating her—asking her for help to stroke her pride. She also knew that she wanted to be useful to the Royal. She wanted to earn her respect and try to build a relationship with her. The idea that she could ever hope to influence a woman like Gladia Ventress might be a little farfetched, but Lemon planned to give it her best effort. It was that or go back to a life that didn’t seem to matter whatsoever.

She stopped chewing her lip and smiled, nodding. “I’ll tell them about Orin and Demon. Orin told me they wouldn’t let anyone through that door.”

Gladia looked toward the exit, and her eyes unfocused for a moment, like she was checking something on her AUI, before she replied, “That’s a good idea. Thank you, Lemon.”

###

Burton didn’t expect this! Sass thought, charging down the hallway behind Freddy. They were moving to Deck Two, where two boarding pods had broken through into the reactor maintenance room.

//No, they didn’t expect pods.//

Merlin’s calm was infectious, and Sass steadied her breathing, following Freddy into a maintenance stairwell.

“I’m dropping down! Just follow as fast as you can!” The young Royal’s voice was clear in their team comm channel, and before Sass could ask him what he meant—or ask him not to go ahead of her—he was gone, vaulting the rail and dropping into the void.

Sass stared for a pair of heartbeats, hardly believing what she’d seen. They were on Deck Five. “Does he have jets in that suit or something?”

//He’s a mid-tier aura user; there are talents you’ll uncover which will allow similar feats.//

Even after more than a week with the system, Sass still felt a thrill of excitement when Merlin talked to her about what she might do with aura—it felt like he was telling her she was going to learn magic. She started down the steps, taking two at a time before leaping halfway down each flight.

She carried an electro-shotgun; Burton had insisted that it was the best option for her level of experience with firearms. It was heavy and bulky, but it felt good in her hands as she careened toward certain danger.

Freddy’s voice came to her: “Two down here! One of them is tied into a service panel. He’s got a neural jack!”

“Down where?”

“Engineering! Check your map. I’m going to engage!”

“Freddy, wait!” Sass cried. She liked Freddy a lot, but she really didn’t think she was the right partner for him. It seemed to her that Burton should have gone with the Royal. Heck, Kristy would have been better with him; he joked around with Sass, but he definitely didn’t listen to her. She glanced at her mini-map and all she saw was the stairwell.

“Merlin!”

//Updating. Go down two more levels. Use the only door. Here, your map is now showing Deck Two.//

Sass looked again and saw Freddy’s blue dot and the map of corridors leading from the stairwell to him. “Good,” she huffed, leaping another flight. “Gosh! How did he even stop on Deck Two instead of falling all the way down? Did he catch the rail?”

//Unknown.//

The ship shuddered for what seemed like the hundredth time, and she almost fell, but she caught herself on her shoulder, slamming into the wall by the Deck Three door. Gunfire sounded from down below, but it seemed distant. Before he’d sent them off, Burton had said something about boarding pods aiming for large “voids”—cargo bays, machine rooms, and the like.

Flint was down on Deck One, where the biggest bays were. He’d always been there, even before they knew about the pods, because Gladia and Burton had thought the main shuttle assault would be at that level. I hope he can hold the line.

Merlin didn’t respond, and Sass was already moving, jumping down the last two flights until she stood before the partially open Deck Two door. She barreled through and, after glancing at her map, charged down the corridor. Freddy’s locator said he was ahead and to the right, but then, when she was about twenty meters from the junction, he came charging into view, eyes wide, face a mask of panic.

“Freddy!” Sass called, and then a thought flickered through her mind: where was his helmet?

He ignored her and turned to keep sprinting, directly away from her down the long central corridor. Sass started to run after him, but then another figure came into view—a tall, looming man with black combat armor decorated with chrome spikes and white-painted X marks. He carried a short-barreled blaster with a heavy battery pack, and when he came around the corner, he pointed it at Freddy’s retreating back and fired off a ball of orange, crackling plasma.

Sass reacted out of pure reflex, lifting her electro-shotgun and pinning the trigger down. It whined for half a second, and then the magnetic coils lining the barrel sizzled with electricity, and it bucked, sending a dozen dense ferrous pellets rocketing down the corridor. They slammed into the pirate’s back, and he stumbled forward. He started to turn, but Sass didn’t let go of the trigger, and the shotgun whined and bucked again.

Another round of high-velocity missiles slammed into the man’s side, ripping through his armor. Still, he didn’t go down, but as he tried to line his blaster up on Sass, her shotgun bucked again, and a third volley of pellets pounded into his chest. He collapsed, and Sass watched as a crimson pool spread around him.

She stood there, stunned by the suddenness of it all. Drifting purple mist finally caught her attention, and she dragged her eyes away from the corpse to watch as Freddy’s body…dissolved. “What the—”

Her words were cut short as Freddy appeared again, coming around the corner. This time he was wearing his helmet. “Sass! You got him!”

###

Neven, or, as everyone but his mother would know him, Knife, wormed his way up the conduit shaft, pulling himself hand-over-hand away from the Engineering Bay toward the next level. He’d seen Rudyard chase after the guy in the shiny battle armor, and then, a minute later, after some gunfire, seen Rudyard’s vitals go flat. “I ain’t no dummy,” he muttered, using a gas line to haul himself up another meter. He grunted and cursed softly as his wrist bent; the damn shaft was narrow.

The ship shuddered, and he almost lost his grip. “Dammit!” He didn’t have a direct line back to Grendel—not with all the active jammers the Royal’s ship was employing—but it looked like things were going to change soon; his connection to his data-jacking deck, tucked into an engineering console, was showing some good progress. “Ought to,” he grunted, tugging again, digging his toes into a bracket for added leverage.

He’d already had some damn pricey attack daemons, but the stuff the Imperials had given Molly was something on a whole other level. It was like the programs had been tailored to work against this pretty ship… He chuckled at the thought. ’Course they were. Royals killing Royals. Someone in this lady’s family wants her to suffer.

“When the daemons get through and turn off the cannons and jammers, tell Molly to quit shooting at this damn ship! It’s damaged enough!”

//Will do. If she doesn’t stop, we’ll use her entrails to—//

Knife choked out a mean laugh. “Damn, Bruja! Don’t put that in the message.”

//Not those words, but the bitch should know we don’t play.//

Smiling, Knife shook his head, tuning out the psychotic AI; he liked her just fine, and most of the time he agreed with her, but she had a tendency to bite off more than she could chew. He pulled on the conduit again, squeezing himself further up the shaft. A sigh of relief escaped his lips when he came face to face with the inside of an access panel—BRIG CONDUIT ACCESS 1A.

###

//5 potentia gathered. Potentia available: 328.//

Hector grabbed the corpse by the wrist and dragged it up the steps to the door, glancing almost guiltily toward the broken camera housing. It looked broken, and Evie thought it was, but he was taking a gamble; what if the LEDs just didn’t work?

He’d tried to avoid killing pirates where he could, sticking to his policy of not leaving behind evidence of his presence, but there’d been a few doors that were locked and a few that were too closely guarded. Even after taking out a handful, though, he still seemed to be undiscovered. The ship’s intrusion alarms weren’t going off, and the pirates he snuck past were oblivious.

//We’re getting close.//

Yeah, but that final approach looks bad.

He was referring to the length of corridor leading to the bridge—a five-meter-wide, fifty-meter-long gauntlet, inside which there were three different bulkheads. Hector didn’t doubt that Molly would have defenders at each door.

//Unless they’ve modified that section. It’s possible they’re using that corridor for something else.//

We’ll see.

Hector took the pirate’s palm and slammed it against the bio-lock. The panel beeped, and the metal doors slid open, revealing a short length of corridor leading to a small elevator. Hector pulled the dead pirate through and then closed the doors. As he straightened, he reactivated his Shadow Stalk ability, striding forward as his aura cloaked and hid him from sight.

Now to deal with this elevator.

It opened when he touched the button, but when he stepped inside, the console was locked, and it required a code—not a handprint. Frowning, Hector looked up and nodded. He was tall, thanks to his investments in potentia, and didn’t have any trouble reaching the well-stained, ancient sound-dampening panels on the ceiling. He dug his fingers behind one and ripped it away, revealing the plasteel ceiling.

//Pull off another. There should be a hatch.//

Hector grunted, already working on the next. The material had once been springy and maybe cloth-like. It crumbled and tore under his fingers, though, made brittle by age. He got the edge peeled away and drew his hand along it, tugging the little clips free and exposing what he’d been hoping to find: a hatch. It was locked, but his Aura Blade slid through the plasteel like it was foil, and he pushed it open, revealing the narrow shaft.

He pulled himself through. Think they noticed?

//I’m not sure; we’ve seen no evidence of the ship’s AI, and half the internal cameras have been damaged or removed.//

Hector leaped up, grabbing hold of the cables and pulling himself to the top of the little shaft in a few smooth movements. There was only one level above the one where he’d boarded the elevator, and he knew that the closed doors would reveal the corridor he was dreading—the path to the bridge. He jumped to the side of the shaft, grabbing hold of a support strut above the doors.

From inside the shaft, he could see the door’s internal mechanism, and he summoned his blade again, severing the ancient hydraulic pistons that held them closed. The doors shook as the pressure holding them shut fell away, but they stayed closed. Hector let his blade fade, then wormed his fingers between the doors and pushed; they slid open.

He knew that anyone watching the elevator would see the doors open, but he wasn’t certain they’d see him. His Shadow Stalk ability was good, and if he were quick, he still might take any security personnel by surprise. With that in mind, he swung through the doors, landing on the grime-stained, scratched-up floor.

By design, the corridor would have been bright and clear—well-lit and open. Half the recessed lights were dead, though, and the ones that remained were dimmer than they ought to be. The floor was littered with…junk. He saw boxes and crates, strangely out-of-place mechanical devices—a coffee machine?—and trash. Hector had seen similar throughout the entire ship; the pirates weren’t worried about neatness, or if they were, they didn’t want to lose standing by being the one to clean up.

Regardless of those factors in Hector’s favor, at least one of the guards on duty at the next door noticed something amiss, and his SMG buzzed to life. As bullets pinged off the floor and elevator doors and slammed into the walls, Hector sprinted forward. He focused on the guard with the blazing gun, tracking the barrel’s aim as he ran.

He could have used Ghost Leap, but it seemed a waste; ten meters was nothing for him, even unboosted. Hector was two or three lunging steps from the shooter when the first bullets hit him, and the second guard finally lifted the barrel of his big blaster rifle, its coils already whining. Hector didn’t let himself feel the bullets, and he certainly didn’t slow. Adrenaline propelled him into a faux boost, and his crimson aura flared as his blade reappeared in his hand, already descending toward the rifle.

He cleaved the gun in half, slicing through the plasma-charging coils, resulting in a flare of red-tinted liquid electricity that crackled and arced around the bulkhead door. Some of it hit Hector—fire that he felt all the way to the bone. He dove for the ground, shielding his face, but the two guards were hit worse. One of them screamed and fell, thrashing, and the other just fell—killed instantly.

As globules of plasma sizzled and spat, melting into the plasteel decking, Hector threw his palm over the thrashing guard’s chest and let his aura system pull. The man’s flailing settled, his ragged breathing grew faint and labored, and Hector took in a small rush of potentia.

//4 potentia gathered. Potentia available: 332.//

The plasma that had melted half the guard’s neck had done enough damage; Hector didn’t think the guy would live. He moved to the other guard and repeated the process.

//6 potentia gathered. Potentia available: 338.//

Hector crouched there for a second, forcing his mind blank as his body’s regeneration worked. He glanced at his right arm; his sleeve was shredded and his flesh was red and puckered, like it had melted down to the bone. Even as he watched, though, the redness faded, the swelling went down, and his tissue smoothed out and filled in—the angry red sores utterly gone. He heard a click and a rattle and looked down to see four bullets on the decking at his feet. His healing had pushed them out.

There was a camera by the door, and he very much doubted that he hadn’t been noticed, so he gave up the pretense of stealth, dropping Shadow Stalk and standing. After a moment’s thought, he summoned his blade again. His aura pool was almost full, and he only had to get through the door in front of him and two more before he came face to face with his quarry.

He drove the blade between the heavy bulkhead door and the wall, then jerked it down. He felt the weapon catch, stopped briefly by the forged alloy bolt that secured the portal. Gritting his teeth, Hector put his other hand on the weapon’s hilt and felt it elongate, making room for his two-handed grip. His muscles bunched as he bore down on the blade, and then, with a hissing slow-motion snap, the blade severed the bolt.

Hector let his weapon fade, then stood there, heaving for breath as he relaxed, letting his similite-enhanced aura recovery do its work. He wanted to enter the next section of the corridor with a full pool. He counted to twenty or so before he was done, and then, when he was ready, he stretched out his foot, ready to kick the door open.

That was when a speaker crackled to life and Molly’s voice came through: “Time to give it up, hero. Open that door and my boys are going to start killing hostages over on that pretty ship you’re trying to protect.”