Here we go! Hope you enjoy the chapter :)

-Plum

23 – All Systems Optimal

Hector made Gladia wait while he found the bullets for Sass’s “new” gun in one of the cabinets; there were four boxes, each containing forty rounds. As he pushed them into Sass’s arms, he said, “Just ask Mori for the specs; I bet we can make these in the ship’s machine shop.”

“We can,” Mori said, his voice following them into the corridor outside Hector’s suite. “We even have the explosive agents aboard, though not everything on the ship was preserved as well as Havish’s belongings.”

“I’ve got crew working on an inventory as we speak,” Gladia said, eyeing Sass, her eyes deftly tracking the boxes of ammunition to the gun on her hip. “That’s quite something, Saskia.”

“Um—” Sass started to reply, but Hector gave her shoulder a gentle push.

“Go ahead, Sass. I have a feeling I’ll be tied up in meetings for a while. Will you see how Lemon and Kit are getting along?”

“Yeah, of course.” Sass smiled at him, and then turned to Gladia and ducked her head, her skull darkening with the movement. “Lady Ventress.”

Gladia just smiled and nodded, then watched as Sass hurried down the corridor, her boots clicking on the polished floor.

Hector stepped back into his suite. “Well,” he said, motioning Gladia forward. “Come in.” He eyed the bottle of brandy on his desk, then thought better of it and walked over to the couch. “I guess we need to talk about what’s next.”

“Forty-two days until the first Game at Heliarch,” Gladia said, following him over to the couch. “If your ship’s fold drive works, we’ll have almost six weeks to finish our preparations.” As they both sat and Hector absorbed her words, she continued, “With regard to that, I was hoping you’d instruct your ship to allow me access to the communication array. I’d like to get in touch with my brother and with Iris’s father. Assuming we were right about Molly and her backers, word is probably already spreading about Maidensong’s demise. I’d like to reassure them.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Hector had been thinking about another complication that Black Wing might present, so he said, “I was hoping we could get a House Ventress identifier for this ship. I’d rather not get swarmed by Imperial interdiction ships when we appear in Mars-space.”

Gladia smiled, nodding as she crossed her legs, leaning back into the couch and shifting to look at him more squarely. “I was going to suggest that. Assuming we get comms established, it won’t be a problem. This ship is a threat made physical, though; even in Mars-space, I think we could persuade Imperial vessels to maintain their distance.”

“Well,” Hector sighed, shaking his head, “a threat, yeah, but it’s a little toothless at the moment. Mori let me know that the railgun is out of ammunition—something else we should arrange to remedy when we get back to Mars.”

“Assuming you intend to remain allied with us, I’m sure I can find a supplier. Funds will be a problem, though—” She chuckled ruefully. “—as I’m currently dead.”

Hector reached into his belt pack and took out the rift pearl, holding it up between his forefinger and thumb so it gleamed like an amber jewel. “This should pay for a pile of tungsten.”

“A rift pearl?” Gladia’s eyebrow arched.

“Yeah, I thought I might need to fuel the ship, but Mori says it has reserves.”

Mori’s voice cut into the conversation: “Black Wing could process that pearl, but she’d prefer to have a full railgun magazine. She already has a decade’s worth of fusion material, and her fold drive and gravity manipulation engine are both powered by nano-veritite batteries, which are, in turn, kept charged by the reactor.”

“Well,” Gladia said, shaking her head. “That’s EE tech for you. I’ll mention it to Iris’s father; he may be able to work out a trade.” Hector knew what she meant by EE tech; batteries that could power that kind of equipment were unheard of in “modern” terms. It made him wonder if that was the trick to the gravity mantle he’d given Lemon—some kind of rift-material battery that modern science had lost the know-how to craft.

Mori took Gladia’s reply as an invitation to keep speaking: “Your technicians have been downloading your old ship’s data libraries. I can confidently say that Black Wing’s fusion reactor and power storage capabilities are vastly superior to those being installed on current-day ships. It’s startling, really, but as I read more and more about the martial history of the Sol System, I find myself less and less surprised. More than anything, I feel fortunate that I missed so many conflicts. I wonder what I’d look like if I’d been—”

“Mori,” Hector interrupted, clearing his throat.

“Apologies. I didn’t intend to take over your conversation. I’ll continue speaking with the technicians on the bridge. Call if you need me.”

In the silence that followed, Gladia looked at Hector with an amused half-smile, exposing a dimple in her cheek that he hadn’t noticed before. “He’s a character. Do you think we should connect Mae to his network? She could bring him up to speed better than reading some libraries.”

“Yeah, probably,” Hector replied, nodding. “Let me talk to him about it first—alone.”

Gladia inclined her head. “Wouldn’t want to put him on the spot.”

“So?” Hector asked, changing the topic. “What’s the plan when we get to Mars? How are you going to capitalize on being dead?”

Gladia didn’t respond immediately. She looked around, taking in the books on the table, the papers on the desk, and the artwork that Hector had barely registered. She stared at a painting of a bull running down a street in some old-Earth town. People wearing white and red, their faces masks of panic mixed with excitement, ran before the furious animal. “An ancient custom,” she said. “I wonder how old that painting is.”

Surprisingly, Mori didn’t chime in; apparently he’d meant it when he’d said they’d have to call him if they needed him. Hector shrugged and said, “At least a thousand years would be my bet.”

Gladia nodded slightly, studying the painting for another minute. “Well, to answer your question: I’ll get in touch with Sparling—or I’ll have Iris do it. She says he has a training facility in the countryside. We’ll take one of the shuttles down—I’ll be sure to have my techs change the registration details.”

“I wonder if Black Wing has any shuttles,” Hector mused, stroking the stubble on his jawline.

“Either way, we’ll get new registrations from Sparling or my brother—probably my brother, considering he’ll be giving us one for this ship.” Gladia cleared her throat. “Anything to drink?”

Hector stood and walked over to his desk, picking up the bottle of brandy and his glass. He retrieved another glass from the cabinet, then sat down again, pouring them each a finger of the dark liquid. “This ought to soothe your throat.”

Gladia watched him with her golden eyes, tracking the glass as he put it into her ivory hand. When she took a sip, her eyes widened. “Gracious! That’s delightful.”

Hector nodded, once again changing the subject. “If the fold drive works, we’ll be in Mars-space in two days. I’d like to take another level, but I’m short potentia.”

“I have another six hundred I was going to give you. I don’t see why I’d withhold it now. It’s likely the last I’ll be able to procure, so keep that in mind.”

Hector nodded. “That’s fine. Burton says I’ll be able to earn during the Games. I’ll pick up some sponsors in Heliarch, and there’ll be time between each event for me to apply the potentia.”

“So,” Gladia said, swirling the bit of amber liquid around the bottom of her tumbler, “you’re feeling confident about what you need to do?”

“I’m doing it, whether I’m ready or not. It’ll either be smooth or ugly, but I’ll do it.”

Gladia stared at him for several seconds, then clicked her tongue. “Angels—you really mean it. I don’t know where you get such confidence, but I’m glad for it. I mean, of course you’re capable, but I saw what Lux did to you. Governor Drusus has at least two men of that caliber.”

“One—” Hector held up a finger. “—I’m already stronger than I was when Lux…happened.” He held up another finger. “Two: I’ll be stronger still by the time the Games are over.” He unfolded a third finger. “And three: I’ll have the element of surprise.” Hector drained his brandy, annoyed that whatever buzz he’d gotten while sitting with Sass was long gone; his reaper constitution didn’t seem to tolerate poisons, even when he wanted to be poisoned.

“I’m sorry if I’m irritating you,” Gladia said, setting her glass on the coffee table. “I’ll leave you alone. In any case,” she said with a sigh, “I should try to make contact with Loyal and Grover Sparling.”

“Just don’t tell them more than you have to and make sure the comms are encrypted. Tell Mori not to give away our position.” Hector didn’t move as Gladia stood. He might want to deny it, but something about her questions had provoked some irritation in him, and he didn’t mind that she was leaving. “As soon as Mori gives me the word, I’ll let you know the fold drive is ready.”

Gladia looked at him for a moment, maybe wondering if he’d walk her to the door. When he stayed on the couch, staring, she said, “I’ll send you that potentia. Can we meet again later? I’ll schedule something with Iris and Burton so I can fill you in once I’ve spoken to my contacts.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Hector watched her go to the door, and when she turned and waved, he felt a little guilty for being short with her and said, “Thanks, Gladia.”

She stood there for a moment, and he could see she was debating with herself. Her mouth opened and closed twice before she said, “I know you won’t admit it, but I’m sure you’re feeling an enormous amount of pressure. I’m grateful to you.” With that, she slipped out, and Hector was left sitting alone, feeling like an asshole.

###

Hector spent the next couple of hours exploring the ship. He saw plenty of people as he walked around, but he was craving solitude, so he didn’t call out to anyone, and when they called his name or greeted him, he simply waved or nodded and kept moving. Of course, that only worked so long; when Kristy and Paige saw him walking down the long, gray corridor toward the engineering bays, they just walked right up to him.

“This ship is amazing,” Paige said.

“We were just checking out the medical bay,” Kristy added. “Now Paige wants to see what kind of fabrication equipment is in the machine shop.”

“I was just…walking,” Hector replied.

“You know what?” Paige asked. “I was talking to the ship’s AI. He has files on rifts—details about things that might have helped us with Mathews.”

“Yeah?” Hector had been so focused on getting Mori caught up on current events that he’d failed to stop and consider what kinds of things the ancient AI might know that were lost or hoarded as secrets by the elite. His earlier thoughts about Lemon’s gravity mantle came to mind. Maybe Mori knows what makes it tick!

“Yes! He’s the one who thought I’d find some interesting stuff in the machine shop. He says there’s a fabricator, some extrusion printers…” She trailed off, her eyes unfocusing. “Well, he mentioned a bunch of stuff.”

“Let me know what you find,” Hector said, trying to push his way past the two.

“When are we leaving?” Kristy asked. “I was talking to Burton, and he said everything’s transferred from the cargo ship.”

“Soon, I hope,” Hector replied. “You’ll want to be in a seat or your bunk when we jump to fold-space.”

“Is it as weird as they say?” Paige asked.

Hector shook his head. “No. You’ll get dizzy for a few seconds, and you might see something—one time I thought I was about a mile underwater, swimming with glowing cephalopods.”

“Seriously?” Kristy cried, shoving his shoulder.

“He’s not teasing,” Paige said. “There are a lot of theories about the visions. Some say it’s just like dreaming, our subconscious slipping into conscious thought. Others theorize that the fold in space-time creates thin spots that allow electromagnetic signals to drift through and influence our visual cortex. I mean, really, there are a million papers on it. I’ve only read a couple.”

“Sir!” a man called out from behind, and Hector turned to see one of Gladia’s crew members jogging toward him. “I have something for you from Lady Ventress.”

Hector turned to wait, but not before saying, “Anyway, listen for the announcement.”

“Come on, Paige,” Kristy said, tugging the other woman’s wrist. “Shop’s this way.”

“Bye, Hector,” Paige said, hurrying after her.

He grunted, still preoccupied with his thoughts, and soon the crew member was there, holding out a small envelope. Hector took it. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, sir.” He turned and hurried off, and it occurred to Hector that he ought to have asked the man his name. Frowning more than ever, he ripped the envelope open and dropped the small metallic disc into his palm—another potentia-storage device.

Standing there alone, in the bowels of an ancient ship, he drained the six hundred aura potentia from the device, closing his eyes against the buzz of euphoria. He put one hand on the alloy paneling, focusing on the soft thrum of distant machines vibrating the bones of the ship. When the rush faded, he said, “I’m good to take that level now, right?”

//Correct. With that infusion, you have 947 potentia, and the level will cost 380. You could purchase other upgrades, too, or—//

I’ll save the leftovers for the next level. Somewhere along the way, Hector had decided that he had enough tools for the moment; he needed durability, speed, and a larger aura pool. Levels did all that more efficiently than individual abilities or boosts.

//Shall I start the process?//

“Confirmed, Evie. Buy the level.”

//380 potentia applied. Corpus vivum conditioning has begun. Approximately 32 hours to complete level advancement. Disorientation, weakness, and even fleeting incapacitation may occur. Extra caloric intake is recommended.

567 aura potentia remaining.//

“I’ll be up to seventeen. Damn. This archetype is something else. I feel as strong as I was at level thirty or more in my old life.”

//Honestly? With your phase abilities, you’re on track to build something far more dangerous than ever.//

“Hector?” As always, Mori sounded like he was right beside him, and Hector grunted a soft curse as he turned, looking down the long, empty corridor.

“Yeah?”

“Reactor output is optimal, fold coils are primed, and batteries are fully charged. We’re ready to jump.”

“Good.” Hector turned and, with purposeful strides, started for the elevator, some forty meters ahead. “Make the announcement; we’ll depart in ten minutes.”

As Mori’s voice, louder and more businesslike, echoed from hidden speakers up and down the corridor, Hector did what he always ended up doing: he pushed his unnamed dissatisfaction, his unwarranted irritation, and his many lingering doubts to the back of his mind, and focused on what was ahead. It was time to return to Mars—time to get serious about training and to learn everything he could about the first Game at Heliarch.

Time to get my head straight. It’s going to be one battle after another that I’m not ready for.

//If you’re not ready, then—//

If I can’t be more ready to fight than the people I’m up against, then I have to be more ready to suffer, more ready to kill—more ready to die. I have to turn off the part of me that doubts, that hesitates, that questions.

//I’ll be there when you come through the other side.//

Hector smiled as he stepped into the elevator. “I know you will, Evie.”

A few minutes later, Hector was sitting on the bridge, watching the massive viewscreen from his captain’s chair. The screen showed the side of Black Wing that was moored to the asteroid, and even as he watched, tiny, silent explosions erupted along the rock face, and the mooring rods slipped free, loosening their ancient grip as they slid into their housings in the ship’s hull.

“We’re loose, sir,” Mr. Lewis said. He’d made the transition from Maidensong to Black Wing nicely.

“Move us away from the rock, then,” Hector said. He only knew to say that much because Mori had told him it wouldn’t be safe to fold space so close to a massive object. The view changed to make it seem like they were watching from just above the ship’s prow. Silently, without the hint of a lurch in his stomach, the ship began to move, rapidly picking up speed, leaving the canyon-like fissure in the giant asteroid.

“Damn, she’s smooth,” Gladia said from off to his left.

Hector couldn’t help the smile that split his lips as he looked at her. “They don’t make gravity tech like this anymore, do they?”

She chuckled. “I’d say not.”

“Sir,” Rudolph, the helm operator, said, “we’re at a safe distance—according to Mori.”

“One more warning, Lewis,” Hector said.

“Roger.” The PA chimed, and Lewis spoke to the crew. “Attention! Attention! Fold-space jump imminent. Brace for disorientation!”

“All right,” Hector said. “Let’s go.”

Rudolph said, “Yes, sir. Engaging fold drive in three…two…one…engaging.”

Hector squeezed his eyes shut as a wave of vertigo washed over him. He’d seen vids of ships entering fold-space, so he knew what was happening outside the ship; Black Wing’s fold drive, mounted behind the prow, was focusing a tremendous amount of energy at a point just before them. Somehow, it was manipulating dark matter, bending space and time, shortening the distance they’d have to travel by a factor of ten or so.

Hector was foggy about how it all worked; the multiplier would change based on distance, ship’s speed, and the quality of the fold drive—maybe other things, too. The important thing was that their trip back to Mars was going to take less than two days instead of two weeks. The vertigo passed, and he opened his eyes, relieved to see the ship’s bridge and not a nest of monsters or a kaleidoscope of color. Got off easy that time.

He looked around the bridge. Most of the people up there were still reeling from the vertigo; some were blinking, shaking their heads, or even groaning softly. Lewis was retching into a puke bag—something they all had handy. Gladia leaned back in her seat, eyes closed, murmuring to herself.

Suddenly, Hector felt very much like seeing Lemon. He stood, and it occurred to him that he felt fine—good, even. Has to be my Vitality.

//Or your Environmental Adaptability.//

“Mori,” Hector said, striding up the ramp to the elevator.

“Yes?”

“The jump went fine?”

“All systems optimal. ETA to Mars-space: thirty-nine hours.”

“Good work, Mori. You did a great job taking care of Black Wing.” As Mori silently accepted the praise, Hector typed in the address for the officers’ deck, and the elevator surged into motion, taking him away from the bridge.