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-Plum

18 – A Good Compromise

As the cable-thin limbs of the aura fiend emerged from the corpse, slick with gore and black as midnight, people began to scream again. Gladia took a step back and pointed her arm at the thing, but Lemon could see the charge wasn’t ready. The swirls of yellow, lightning-filled aura were smaller and slower, though they grew even as she watched.

“Where the hell are our security officers?” someone cried.

Lemon barely noticed; her eyes were fixed on the thing as it emerged from the pirate’s corpse. She could see, even as it pulled itself from the torn flesh, its thin limbs thickening and hardening before her eyes. A shell was forming around it in a softly glowing violet haze. Is that aura?

The question was driven from her mind as the monster opened its mouth, revealing rows of needle-like teeth, and shrieked. The sound was mechanical and awful in its harsh volume—a grating, discordant howl that drove Lemon’s hands to her ears in a futile attempt to block it out. Gladia’s arm flashed and a bolt of swirling yellow light rippled through the air, but the creature moved, gliding sideways with a speed that was impossible for Lemon to track.

As the monster spread its long arms, exposing claws longer than Lemon’s fingers, Gladia backpedaled into her, and the two women stumbled back, bumping into one of the crew consoles. “I need a minute,” Gladia started to say, but then the thing lunged forward and a tail Lemon hadn’t noticed speared up over its shoulder and punched through Gladia’s chest.

Lemon stared at the black, blade-like tip as it emerged between Gladia’s shoulder blades. Her eyes widened with horror as she struggled to comprehend what had just happened. She felt warm tickles on her forehead and cheeks. It’s Gladia’s blood. The thought came from a quiet, dispassionate part of her mind. The creature shrieked again and yanked its tail free, whipping it in an arc behind it as it approached, claws up, ready to strike.

Something inside Lemon couldn’t stand there, holding Gladia while the monster ripped her apart. Something spurred her to action, and she pulled hard on the Royal’s shoulders, yanking her to the side and putting herself between Gladia and the monster. It was stupid—suicidal, even—and she knew that even as she did it. Still, that quiet, steady part of her mind had come to a crucial conclusion: if that fiend was going to die, then Gladia had to live. Better to die fighting than screaming and crying.

Everything happened in the span of a few panicked breaths. The creature approached; Lemon jerked Gladia to the side, pivoting between them, and then she felt the blows coming—imagined those long claws ripping her to shreds. Only they didn’t come. She could see the shadows lurching in the flickering light. She could feel the brush of air on her neck and arms…and she could feel the bracelet on her wrist getting warm.

Lemon looked over her shoulder and saw the fiend backing off. Something in its glowing, violet eyes looked confused. It hissed and drove its tail at her, faster than thought—faster than Lemon could blink. It stabbed her right in the face, or it would have, but for some reason it stopped short, hanging in the air before her. Lemon’s bracelet pulsed with heat.

She wanted to look at it, but she was transfixed by the creature before her, by its bladed tail hanging in the air just centimeters from her face. Her eyes focused on its hardened tip, and she saw it slowly fracturing, coming apart in tiny slivers of carapace that floated strangely to the sides. The rift fiend shrieked and jerked its tail back, stalking to the right, staring at Lemon with indisputable malice.

“Lemon—” Gladia started to say, coughing wetly, but then Orin was there, shoving his way through the ruined door and squeezing the trigger on his big machine gun. He’d caught the fiend by surprise, and his initial volley hit home, ripping parts of the fiend’s carapace away and showering the bridge with its dark blood. To Lemon’s horror, she saw the wounds begin to heal immediately, and the monster moved again, faster than she could track—a blur that streaked toward the door.

Orin cursed and fired again; at the same time, his body glowed with a bright orange aura. He might have hit the fiend again, but it didn’t care. It leaped on him, hooking its claws into his armored chest and driving its tail around to the side, punching it into Orin’s stomach. Lemon screamed, desperately wishing she had a weapon.

Gladia staggered off the console behind her, glanced at Lemon with something like surprise in her eyes, and then lifted her arm, once again swirling with bright yellow energy. Maybe she would have shot the fiend and finished it, but they’d never know; Demon came through the door behind Orin, and he held a buzzing, curved sword in his hands.

He moved with perfect grace, sidestepping the two struggling combatants and swinging the sword in several quick, brutal hacks, taking off pieces of the fiend with each attack—an arm, its tail, and one slender leg. Lemon had the wherewithal to recognize how sharp the sword was, to hear its buzzing hum, and to know it was a high-end vibroblade.

As its limbs fell away, Orin roared and threw the monster onto the carpeted decking and trained his gun on it, holding down the trigger. The weapon roared, and the bullets tore the monster apart, tracing a line of destruction from its chest to its head, where Orin kept the gun pointed until it ran out of ammunition. When the gun stopped firing, there was nothing left of the fiend from the neck up—just a black smear and a hole in the decking.

Gladia sagged, throwing her arm over Lemon’s shoulders for support as her weapon-arm’s glow rapidly faded. She looked at Lemon, locked eyes with her, and whispered, “Thank you.”

###

Hector stood beside Molly on the bridge of a pirate cargo ship called Elephant as it carefully approached the large commercial airlock attached to the main loading bay of Maidensong. It had been several hours since the ceasefire, and he was feeling the pressure of an invisible ticking clock; Molly hadn’t yet messaged her employers about her “victory,” but if Hector was right, they already knew the fight had at least begun.

Beyond their need to hurry, he was agitated about everything that had gone down on Maidensong while he’d been capturing and babysitting Molly. Gladia was injured, people were dead, Mathews’s fiend had gotten loose, and he’d missed it all. He’d been in constant contact with people over there, though, and he was relieved, at least, that his people were okay.

Orin was in surgery due to perforations in his bowel and liver, but he’d be fine. Sass had gathered enough potentia to—according to her AI—gain two levels. Lemon…Lemon had saved Gladia, and the Royal wasn’t exactly sure how. Hector smiled. The fates guided my hand when I gave her that gravity mantle.

//We’re believing in fate again?//

Hush.

//Did you see the report from Mae? About Mathews?//

Yeah. So the fiend fed on her, but her nanites closed the wound and helped her regenerate enough blood to recover.

//Yes, and they found another victim—an engineering tech.//

So that’s how it was able to physically manifest? It only took three feedings?

//Apparently, which is probably valuable information if you wanted to sell it.//

Hector snorted. I’ll leave that to Mathews. She earned it.

“Something funny?” Molly asked.

“Lots.”

“Well, I’m not laughing.”

Hector glanced at the pirate boss, scowling where she leaned against the beat-up old command console. He didn’t elaborate; just because they were using each other didn’t mean he liked the pirate. It wasn’t hard to recall that she’d tried to kill him and that her pirates had killed some of the crew members on Maidensong—not that they hadn’t gotten the worst of it by a wide margin. He looked around the ancient bridge, at the missing wall panels, the missing light bulbs, and the dozens of critical alerts being thrown by the ship’s operating system—no fancy AI.

She was an old ship, Elephant, and she hadn’t been much to look at when she’d been new. The hull had been repaired so many times that it looked like a massive, metallic patchwork quilt. The bulk of the ship was made up of eight cargo bays, all interconnected by a central corridor that was wide enough to drive a truck through. Three of those bays weren’t pressurized because of unrepaired hull breaches. It didn’t matter, though; the remaining bays were plenty adequate for their needs.

Even without the cargo bays, the ship had enough crew space—all housed in a building-sized stack at the aft end of the vessel. Gladia had wanted something big, and Elephant fit the bill. Besides, it hadn’t been hard to talk Molly out of it.

As he had the thought, the pirate captain looked at him and said, “Still not thrilled about you stripping that pretty Imperial ship before we swap.”

“Well, we’re not thrilled about giving you the ship. You know what they say about a good compromise, right?”

Molly shook her head, frowning.

“It’s a good compromise if neither party is happy.”

“Huh.” Before she could say more, some LEDs lit up green, and the ship shuddered as the autopilot completed the docking maneuver. “Guess it’s time for me to meet the fancy lady.”

“Guess so.” Hector turned and started for the exit. “Come on. Let’s get this deal over with before someone gets trigger-happy and your pirates end up dead.”

As they walked to the elevator, Molly asked, “You really think we should just bolt?”

Hector shrugged. “It’s what I’d do. You can’t know where the Imperials are coming from, so you can’t get your mass drivers aligned. Meanwhile, you’re right here, on the edge of a vast asteroid and debris field. If your ships run in different directions, there’s no way they’ll get you all—might not get any of you.”

“Meanwhile, you and the lady are long gone.”

Hector scowled at her. “Just personal stuff and consumables—and you get a multi-billion-bit ship.”

“Right.” Molly didn’t smile, but Hector knew the hook was good enough; she was greedy, and her only other option was to go back to fighting, which was a losing proposition. They rode the elevator to the aft cargo bay and then walked over to the vehicle-sized airlock. He’d convinced Molly to get her crew off the hauler when it retrieved them from the Grendel, so they were the only ones there. Molly would have to use the captured pirates on Maidensong to crew that ship after Hector and the others departed on Elephant.

“Send me the command codes,” Hector said, approaching the airlock panel. “I’ll confirm that they work.”

“And me? When do I get the pretty ship’s command codes?”

“When we’re all loaded up, and the Elephant is out of Maidensong’s PDC range.”

“And if—”

“You’ll just have to trust me, Molly. It’s better for us if the Imperials don’t get ahold of this ship.”

Molly looked ready to cuss him out again, but she just scowled and waved a hand.

A moment later, Evie reported: //Codes received, and I’ve already changed them.// She displayed the digits for him, and Hector punched them in, opening the airlock and connecting the two ships.

After that, things got hectic. Molly never really got a chance to chat with Gladia—Flint took her at gunpoint to stand with the other captured pirates, and then Maidensong’s crew got to work, hauling pallets of already gathered equipment and belongings into the cargo bays of Elephant.

Hector watched for a while, mentally taking stock. He saw pallets of food, water, fuel, solvents, munitions, medical equipment—it seemed they’d stripped down the clinic—and even several vehicles. It wasn’t long before Lemon and Sass found him, and they had Freddy, Kristy, and Mathews in tow.

“Why are you hiding down here!” Sass cried as she ran in front of a forklift, close enough that the operator had to slam on the brakes.

Hector shrugged. “Not hiding. I figured everyone would come through here eventually.”

“And your things?” Sass asked.

Lemon was quick to say, “I packed his room; he asked me to.”

“Oh.” Sass frowned, but she put her fists on her hips. “Aren’t you glad to see us?”

Hector turned his full attention to her and forced a smile. The truth was that he was desperately glad that they were all okay, especially Sass and Lemon, but he didn’t know how to act—it was easier for him to look busy than to express such things. “Yeah, of course I am. I…” He shook his head. “I just have a lot on my mind. We’re not out of the woods yet.”

“Not with the out of the woods stuff again!” Kristy cried.

Mathews snorted and stepped up beside Sass. “He’s just not good at showing affection. I get it.”

Hector stepped closer to Mathews and put his hand on her shoulder, looking into her bright green eyes with their strange dual pupils. “I’m glad you got that bastard out of you.”

She smiled, nodding. “You and me both. Paige thinks it never got a full hold on me because I—and these are her words—came back to life as it was infecting me.”

“Her nanites,” Freddy added.

Hector shook his head. “That might be, but you fought it, Commander. Give yourself some credit.” He squeezed her shoulder, then turned to Lemon. “You’re awfully quiet.”

She looked down and smiled almost shyly. “I can’t believe you took over an entire pirate ship by yourself.”

“Oh my gosh!” Sass cried. “Listen to her! Lemon, you fought an aura fiend!”

Everyone turned to regard the former doll, and she blushed, staring down at her feet. “I did not. I just stood there.”

“Not what I heard,” Freddy said. “My mom wouldn’t stop talking about you. She was not happy that all the crew sheltering on the bridge basically ran away.”

Lemon shook her head. “You can’t blame them, Freddy. That thing was horrible. Poor Vicki…”

At the mention of the dead security officer, everyone got quiet for a moment, then Mathews cleared her throat and said, “Well, Gladia says you saved her ass—pulled her aside and put yourself between her and the monster. Damn good instincts, if you ask me. Remind me to get you a proper sidearm.” She hesitated for a second, then added, “By the way, thanks for helping to take that fucker down. I don’t think I’ve said that yet.”

Lemon shrugged. “It was mostly Orin and Demon.”

“Where are they?” Hector asked. “Still—”

“In recovery,” Kristy said. “Demon’s sitting with Orin.”

Hector nodded. “Good.”

//Hector, Gladia would like you to come to the bridge.//

“Well,” he said with a sigh, “I guess I’ve got to head up to the bridge.” He gestured to the far end of the bay where Flint was still watching over the pirates. “Some of you mind helping Flint out? Maybe get him some food?”

“I will!” Sass said.

“I’m with her,” Freddy replied.

“Hector, do you mind if I walk with you?” Lemon asked.

“Come on,” Mathews said, grabbing Kristy’s arm. “I could use some food, too.”

Hector nodded to Lemon. “Let’s go.” As they started toward the central corridor which would take them to the main elevator, he asked, “How’s the kid?”

“A little freaked out, but he’s taken to Iris of all people. He’s with her right now, but she just messaged me that he’s napping.”

“Well, that’s good, right?”

She shrugged. “I hope so. I’m not a mom, you know? I’m sure I’m screwing up with him, but I’m just, well, doing my best.”

“You’re doing fine, and he’s better off with this crew, despite all this pirate business, than being turned into a corporate factory drone.”

Lemon looked over her shoulder, then said, “Hector, what is this thing?” She held up her wrist, and Hector got a good look at the silvery bracelet. “I should be dead right now. That fiend tried to tear me apart, but it—”

“That’s a gravity mantle, Lemon, but don’t tell anyone that. I hope you didn’t tell Gladia—”

“Tell her what? That the monster decided against ripping my arms off? That its claws just stopped right before they cut into me? That my bracelet got warm for some reason?” She shook her head. “I just played dumb and said I had my eyes squeezed shut.” When Hector smiled in what he thought was a reassuring way, she asked, “What’s a gravity mantle?”

“It’s kind of an artifact. They don’t make them anymore—can’t.”

“Can’t? Hector! How much is this thing—”

He ushered her into the elevator and held a finger to his lips. “Hush now. Gladia told me Mae’s all packed up, but you have to be careful about stuff like that.” He nodded to the security array in the elevator ceiling.

As the elevator doors closed, Lemon stared at him, but her gray eyes weren’t angry; they were searching. After a moment she just leaned against him, resting her cheek against his arm, and said, “Thank you.”

The words carried a lot of meaning—acknowledgement that he’d chosen her to wear the mantle, for one, and also the gentle assurance that she appreciated it. Hector put his arm over her shoulders and leaned down, pressing his cheek to the top of her head. Even after everything she’d been through, her hair still smelled good—like strawberries.

The elevator stopped, chimed, and opened its doors. Hector and Lemon stepped off and walked together to the bridge. Hector wasn’t exactly sure what to expect, but he knew Gladia wouldn’t be happy. After all, she was making her final preparations before abandoning Maidensong.