Enjoy the chapter! :)

I know, these last few chapters have had a lot of POV switches, but there are a lot of moving parts. I contemplated sticking close to Hector through this whole thing and then just summarizing what he didn't see when he meets back up with the others, but I thought that would fall flat. Happy to hear your thoughts.

Cheers,

Plum

PS: I changed a little bit of 3.15 to indicate that Iris was on the bridge (forgot to mention it) and also that Orin and Demon were set to guard the bridge.

17 – When the Strong Ones Leave

They’re withdrawing? Hector was subvocalizing in order to keep from being overheard by Molly, who was sitting in a chair nearby. Evie would take his non-verbal words and synthesize his voice to send via a secure comm-link to Gladia. They were still on the bridge, but Molly had issued a stand-down order, and her bridge personnel were preoccupied with the logistics.

Gladia’s response was only slightly delayed; the jammers were offline, but the comms were still spotty. “They are—gathering in the main cargo bay. Flint says there are only thirteen pirates left alive. We were winning.”

Yeah, until more pirates shuttled over from the nearby ships, or until Molly got bored and put a couple of big holes in Maidensong.

Gladia’s voice was clipped with irritation as she replied, “I understand you want all the credit, but I’m just saying—”

That’s not it. I just want you to understand that there wasn’t a scenario where you could win this conflict.

The words gave Gladia pause, and Hector didn’t speak again—didn’t elaborate. He wanted her to get there on her own. After a moment, her voice came through the comm channel: “What do you mean, Hector? We’ve won. You’ve got Molly. She’s pulling her troops out.”

Think, Gladia. Where did the boarding pods come from?

Her silence was brief. “You think they’re still here…watching!”

When they think it’s over, they’ll come in and sweep up whatever’s left—break the pirates, blow up Maidensong, and report it on the Imperial propaganda channels as a heroic rescue attempt. Unfortunately, they couldn’t save Gladia Ventress. Sadly, they were just a little too late.

Another brief silence, and then Gladia said, “So, we kill them! Bastards!”

Hector smiled, turning to walk another few meters from Molly. I like the sound of that, but it’s not realistic. It’s at least one well-maintained warship. I doubt they’re alone. They had Molly fooled; she thinks they left, but I’m sure they circled back. Even so, I’d bet on at least two frigates. Your ship’s already damaged, and this ship is a relic. Half the systems are offline. The other pirate ships aren’t much help, and the mass driver installations—if they really exist—are pointed the wrong way.

“What…” Gladia hesitated for a moment, then said, “What if you were to board them again? Angels, I can’t believe I said that. I’m sorry, Hector.”

It’s a reasonable question. I just don’t think it would work this time. They aren’t going to come in slowly so they can board. They’re going to sweep up the mess and record the aftermath. That’s why I think there’ll be two ships. One will take out Maidensong, and they’ll say the pirates did it.

“Then…then we have to try to run? Can we get Molly to stall them? Can we trick her?”

Hector looked at the pirate captain. She was watching him, and though she didn’t look happy, she didn’t exactly look angry either. When he’d presented his idea to her, he’d seen the greed light up in her eyes. The promise of Maidensong was just shiny enough to distract her from the cold, hard facts. He almost felt guilty, but then, the woman had come with every intention to kill or capture him and everyone he cared about. To hell with her.

That’s the idea, Gladia, but you’ve got to brace yourself for a little personal loss. It’s the only way we walk away from this mess.

###

“…Commander? You good?”

Melanie, brain foggy with the haze of a deep sleep, tried to place the voice and couldn’t. It was familiar, but for some reason, the name escaped her. Still, when she heard it again and someone jostled her shoulder, she almost pictured him—blond hair, a winning smile, effortless good looks…

“Is she hurt?” another voice asked, and for some reason that one drew Melanie back to consciousness. She opened her eyes, blinked against the bright lights, and peered up into the two faces staring down at her—Freddy and the girl with the tattoo. Sassy?

//Finally! We’ve been out for nearly an hour!//

“You too, Roxy?”

“Uh, I’m not…” the girl with the skull on her face said, glancing at the Ventress kid.

Freddy shook his head; he didn’t know who Roxy was. “You good, Commander? There’s blood on the wall here, but you don’t seem to be injured.”

//Yes, I was cut off too. You were fully unconscious, and I was relegated to the neurodeck’s processor environment.//

“Help me up, kid,” Melanie said, holding out a hand. As he pulled her to her feet, she added, “I feel okay, but I’m kind of surprised I’m not dead—felt like I blew a major gasket upstairs.” She rubbed her temples, then remembered her fight and glanced at the dead—or maybe unconscious—pirate. He wasn’t there.

“You moved him? The pirate?”

The girl looked at the blood-smeared wall, then back to Melanie. “There wasn’t anyone here. It was Freddy’s idea to check on you when the sweep order came down.”

“Was he dead?” Freddy asked, growling in frustration as he reached up to adjust his helmet visor, which was slowly descending over his eyes.

The girl, whose visor was also up, reached over and twisted a knob near the base of his helmet. “You have to tighten this thing.”

Melanie, still feeling woozy, shook her head and said, “I thought he was dead. Maybe not. Even weirder that I’m alive, then; the creepy little asshole wouldn’t have been happy with me.”

Freddy took her arm and guided her toward the cot. At the same time, he said, “Mae? Can you review the footage from this cell? What happened to the pirate that Commander Mathews fought?”

“I’m sorry, Frederick, but that was during the data spike that interfered with our comms. All the security cam footage was corrupted. I’m working to clean up what I can, but it’ll be spotty.”

Melanie sat down, shaking her head. There was something not right—something she was missing.

“Should I call someone about the door?” the girl asked.

That was when it hit her like a jolt of electricity. Melanie shot to her feet and grabbed Freddy’s armored vest, shaking him. “It’s gone!”

He blinked, startled by her vehemence. “Huh?”

“The thing in my head! The goddamn fiend!”

“You—you’re sure?” He pushed against her shoulders, stepping back until she released his vest.

“Yes! That’s what happened to the pirate! I think it jumped!”

“Excuse me, Melanie,” Mae interjected, her voice coming through the speaker slightly amplified, “would you please describe the pirate in question? If you’re correct, we need to locate him with all possible haste.”

###

Lemon scooted closer to Iris. “Do you think it’s really over?”

“Well…” Iris tilted her head, clearly trying to listen to Gladia, who was pacing back and forth at the other end of the bridge. “She’s talking to Hector, but I don’t think she would have told all the, um, fighters to go out and sweep the ship if the pirates weren’t supposed to be gone.” She looked at Lemon, narrowing her eyes. “Why don’t you go and ask her? You seem to be on her good side.”

Lemon didn’t miss the snark in the tone, but she didn’t bite. Instead, she pulled her knees to her chest—they were sitting on cushions that Gladia had brought in—and shook her head. “She sounds angry.”

“Yeah, she does, doesn’t she? I wonder what’s going on.”

Before Lemon could venture a guess, the ship’s AI spoke through the PA system, “Gladia? You’ve made your comms private, but there’s an urgent matter.”

Gladia held up a finger, and Lemon was just able to hear her say, “Hang on, Hector. What, Mae?” Then, she turned toward the viewscreen, and her words grew hushed.

“What on Mars is going on?” Iris whispered. She stood and walked toward the two security officers by the door. While the rest of the non-combat personnel began speculating and, in some cases, panicking, Lemon also clambered to her feet. With a quick glance to ensure that Kit was still passed out with his headphones on in the corner, she followed Iris.

“…something about a pirate we need to get eyes on,” Vicki was saying to Iris.

“Aren’t they all leaving?” Iris asked.

Before either guard could respond, Gladia stormed over. “Open the door, Gil.” The guard jumped to comply, and Gladia continued, “I have to continue my conversation with Hector—Fates damn it—but I need you and the other two—”

The door swished open, revealing Orin and Demon leaning against the corridor walls on either side of the door, looking bored. Gladia pointed. “Those two. Listen to Mae and sweep this level. If you don’t find the pirate she’s looking for, then work your way down, level by level, to see if the other teams missed him. Look everywhere—in cupboards, under beds, everywhere!” She glanced at Vicki. “You stay here.”

###

“Do you feel it?” the Voice asked, and Knife didn’t have to ask it what; the hunger was enough to make his throat constrict. “Did you hear?”

He nodded, licking his lips. They’re looking for me. Guess I can’t just sneak down to the cargo bay and join the others.

//Then let’s kill all these bitches!// Bruja didn’t know he was talking to the Voice, but it didn’t matter; she was crazy enough on a good day; he didn’t need to tell her she wasn’t alone in his head.

“Wait,” said the Voice. “Wait for the strong ones to leave, and then we’ll have a feast. Slay enough, and plans can change—your faction won’t know why they were looking for you.”

Knife inhaled shakily. The Voice was right. When their captain’s dead, then Molly will have to stop talking. She’ll get the others to jump back into the fight. I can kill them all, can’t I? I can take my time and pick them off one by one.

“Yes!” hissed the Voice. “You did well to feed me twice already. Even the strong ones will fall if you’re clever and swift.”

Knife closed his eyes, visualizing the kills. He’d leap from the shadows, his blades slashing left and right; blood would splash warm and wet on his face. His breathing quickened, and he had to swallow the saliva that built up in his mouth.

//I love it! At last! Back to the good old days! Remember Carson Station? We took their skins!//

Knife whispered a soft chuckle. He had no idea what Bruja was talking about; whatever she’d done on Carson Station—wherever that was—had been with a previous host. He shifted in the access conduit, careful to avoid making any noise, though there was a valve pressing right against his kidney and it was beginning to really hurt.

He could hear the security team that had come out of the bridge opening doors, pushing furniture around, and calling out, “Clear!” as they passed through each of the offices on the Bridge Deck. He was surprised the ship’s AI hadn’t directed them to the access conduit, but maybe it didn’t think a person could traverse it. It certainly hadn’t been easy.

“Patience…just a few minutes more,” cautioned the Voice, and Knife nodded, closing his eyes and letting his fantasies play out again.

###

Several minutes after Gil left with Orin and Demon, Lemon finally built up the nerve to approach Gladia. She didn’t know why she wanted to interrupt her conversation with Hector; maybe she didn’t—maybe she just wanted to find out why Gladia sounded so distraught. Things were going well, weren’t they? There had to be something wrong, and Lemon reasoned maybe it was a problem she could help with. If not, maybe she could at least commiserate with the Royal.

“…but it’s everything of mine, Hector. Everything I own is tied to it. It’s an heirloom. Mae is family!” That threw Lemon for a loop. Wasn’t Mae the ship’s AI? “…yes, of course. I know. I know. It doesn’t make it easier.” By then, Gladia saw that Lemon had approached, and when she turned to look at her, there were tears in her eyes. To Lemon’s surprise, she smiled wanly, shaking her head. “Fine…fine. Make the arrangements. Something large enough, though—not a pair of damned shuttles!”

When Gladia stopped talking and closed her eyes, slumping down into her captain’s chair, Lemon stepped a little closer. “Anything I can help with, Gladia?”

“Do you have a spare fifty-billion-bit starship?” She sniffed, and in the most unladylike gesture Lemon had seen her perform, wiped her nose on her silk sleeve.

“I, um…” Lemon looked around the bridge at the many staring faces. Had they heard that? Had the ship’s AI?

“That wasn’t very nice of me. Besides, I doubt even that would be enough. Maidensong is one of a kind—” Gladia’s voice hitched as an involuntary sob escaped her.

“Gladia!” the ship’s AI broke in, speaking sharply from the overhead speaker.

“I’m sorry, Mae. We’re going to figure something out for you. I—”

“No! It’s not that—the pirate, the one. He’s here!”

The AI wasn’t quiet about her warning, and everyone on the bridge heard the announcement. Some gasped; some cried out. Most looked at the door where Vicki stood with a mean-looking black rifle in her hands. Gladia grabbed Lemon’s arm and hauled herself to her feet. “Where?”

The question was made redundant as a smoking pale-green blade stabbed through the bridge door in a shower of sparks. The panel beeped, and a high-pitched, wailing alarm sounded, and then a black-gloved hand gripped the door and ripped it wide. Vicki started shooting, and half the people on the bridge started screaming.

Everything happened quickly after that, so quickly that Lemon had a hard time keeping it all straight in her head. She saw holes appear in the door; she heard the gun—surprisingly quiet—making brrt, brrt, brrt sounds. Then, she saw the man in the black bodysuit, almost too thin to believe, as he ducked low and swooped in under Vicki’s fire.

He held two knives that smoked like chem-sticks, and when he lifted them up, parts of Vicki fell to the burgundy industrial carpeting—several fingers and an entire arm. Then, he was behind her, and his teeth were in her neck as he dragged her back through the door into the hall.

“What the fuck?” someone screamed, and then Lemon forgot everything else because Kit began to cry. She turned toward her little brother, and relief washed over her when she saw Iris hugging him close, his face pressed down into her shoulder.

“Thank you,” she mouthed, and Iris nodded.

“Watch out,” Gladia said, moving to stand in front of her. She lifted her right arm, crackling with yellow energy. It shifted and clicked, her fingers sliding away into an ivory housing as a gleaming barrel appeared. “Come back in here, fiend, and see what happens,” Gladia yelled, her voice strident and clear, not an ounce of fear tinting the tone.

The people on the bridge were up, panicking, moving toward the viewscreen, which was the furthest point from the door. Some were crying, some were cursing. Iris, still holding Kit, who wasn’t all that much smaller than she was, moved with them. Lemon wasn’t sure why she didn’t go with them, why she didn’t put the consoles and crew stations between herself and the door. Maybe it was because Gladia hadn’t moved; the truth was, she couldn’t take her eyes off the woman.

All her life, Lemon had heard about how despotic the Royals were—how greedy and cruel. She’d heard it from her father when she was young; she’d heard it from Grando and the men in his club. She’d heard it from clients and friends. If she were honest, she’d admit that she’d said the same things. Maybe it was true of most Royals, but there was one thing she knew: Gladia Ventress was someone to be admired.

She stood tall and straight-backed. Her eyes were fierce, and her breathing was steady as could be. Her aura crackled, glowing brightly around her arm, but it also limned her whole figure; she was like an angel standing there, putting herself between a walking nightmare and the people who were supposed to be working for her.

Lemon couldn’t leave her, not because she was paralyzed with fear or transfixed with awe, but because, in that moment, she wanted to be like Gladia Ventress, and there was no way in hell she’d leave her to stand alone against the thing that had come through that door and taken poor Vicki.

All of those thoughts passed through Lemon’s mind in a handful of seconds. Meanwhile, the door stood half open, and Vicki’s strangled gurgles could be heard from just beyond. Gladia took a step forward, and Lemon knew what she was thinking: maybe she could save Vicki. One step was all she took, though, before the sound of a body hitting the decking reverberated, and then the monster reappeared.

Just as before, things happened almost too fast to register. The fiend dove through the door, hit the carpeted deck in a somersault, and then sprang to his feet, twin smoking blades held upright as he leaped at Gladia’s side. Gladia was fast, though, and she’d tracked him with her gun-arm.

As soon as he was in the air, the weapon made a whistling zwap sound. Gladia stumbled back into Lemon, and a bolt of yellow lightning blinded everyone who didn’t have flare-dampening optical implants. Lemon squeezed her eyes shut against the bloom of light, grabbing onto Gladia’s shoulder and waist to steady her—and herself—as she waited for the afterimage to fade.

The lights on the deck were flickering; some had burst at the discharge of Gladia’s powerful weapon. Shadows lurched in the uneven flashes, people cried out, and Lemon felt like she’d suddenly been thrust into a horror story. Even so, she felt a surge of hope; Gladia had struck her mark. The fiend was down, his body charred black where it twitched on the carpet.

Others took note, and someone yelled, “Yes! You got him, Lady Ventress!”

That was when the blackened body split open and the true nightmare clawed its way out of the corpse.