The first few days of the voyage passed at a slow but uneventful pace. The Valiance jumped in and out of hyperspace, lingering around large areas of traffic to appear normal before moving on. They would dock at a refuelling station to refill a nearly full tank, or fly a circle in orbit around a populated moon, and in this way they avoided notice they would’ve attracted from leaving hyperspace and only waiting around long enough to recharge the drive. They weren’t doing anything illegal while in Kinship space, but it was best to avoid questions while the Valiance carried a bellyful of well-equipped mercenaries on a dubious errand.
Entering hyperspace was a unique sensation, but not one Marissa was fond of, no matter how many times she experienced it. At first she felt stretched, but the next moment she would feel a heavy weight on her chest, forcing her to take sharp, shallow breaths. It was nauseating, and most jumps ended with her either fighting not to faint, or pouring her last meal out into the toilet. Frequent spacefarers were said to eventually adapt to cope with the jumps, but Marissa had happily avoided that lifestyle and was suffering the consequences. She later learned that many of the mercs were taking pills to cope, riding a high through each jump, but Marissa was reluctant to start doing drugs just for that. The only relief she found was lying in bed and hoping for sleep.
In between jumps, if she could manage to crawl out from under the sheets, she paid visits to the cargo hold. The lieutenant-commander had invited her, after all, and she was keen to keep up her exercise routines. She’d pictured merc training as organized and precise, with strict drills to rival military standards. What she discovered was not so different from a gym or the off-season at Paragon Stadium. Mercs came and went, running a few laps around the hold or stopping to do push-ups, sit-ups, and other-ups. An area had even been cleared for sparring and target practice, with someone always doing one or the other.
Marissa was content to watch, at first. The mercs tolerated her presence, but she felt a wall between them. Her attempts to speak with them were met with either polite dodges or uneasy silence, as if they feared to start a conversation with her. Some of that was probably fear of appearing inarticulate, or maybe they thought it was unprofessional for mercs to mingle too much with civilians while on a job. Inferno Company was supposed to be a high-quality group, from what Cassandra had told her, so it made sense that they’d be mindful of their own conduct. So Marissa kept the talk to a minimum, just happy to run a few laps with the mercs. They were all tough-looking men and women, just the kind needed for such an unpredictable voyage.
After one particularly strenuous jog a few days in, she’d sat down to catch her breath on the sidelines of a casual sword duel. With the rise of space travel and the conflicts that always seemed to follow any big development, the logistics of fighting in and around vessels and their cramped corridors had made heavy firearms less viable. An old-fashioned bullet was likely to tear a hole in weaker ships and invite the vacuum inside, and the lack of friction in space meant solid projectiles just kept going until something got in their way, maybe years down the line. Add to that the increasing durability of body armour and the inefficiency of laser weaponry, and you had the resurgence of melee combat. The mercs were fairly good at it, although Marissa spotted many points in the duel which would have left either combatant open to a more experienced fighter.
As she watched, Barnes appeared in the corner of her eye and took a seat beside her. “You know, I never thought you’d be the shy type.”
Marissa tore her eyes away from the duel reluctantly. “What do you mean?”
Barnes gestured to the man and woman clashing blades. “I assumed you’d be throwing yourself into the ring the moment you got down here. Hell, after you shouted down Cass like that, I wasn’t sure if I needed to bother inviting you—I thought you’d show up when you felt like it. But you’ve been quite the wallflower the last few days.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to fight. I’m just worried I might break your mercs.” Marissa smiled, but her heart wasn’t quite in it. “I also get the feeling I’m not wanted.”
Barnes arched his bushy eyebrows. “Did someone say that to you?”
Marissa shook her head firmly, wondering if she’d just made trouble for the others. “Oh, no. It’s nothing hostile. I just feel like they don’t want to be around me.”
Barnes pursed his lips, eyes dancing to follow the two duellists before them. “That’s just how they are, I’m afraid. You saw how Donna—I mean, Commander Fredrichs—is on a good day. When you work under someone like that for long enough, you start to pick up their habits. They’re good people under all that though, and I don’t think any of them would refuse if you asked for a duel.”
Marissa considered Barnes, so at odds with the other, almost unapproachable mercs. That hard expression he’d worn when they’d first met seemed almost like a mistake, a misremembered dream. An idea emerged from uncertainty. “You and me, then. How’s that sound?”
Barnes started upright, a slow grin overtaking his face. “Sounds good. Just don’t do to me what you did to that Westri guy, deal?”
The duel they’d been watching ended with no clear winner, both participants dropping their swords to catch their breath. That seemed to be a theme with the mercs; they saw these fights as exercise, and victory was inconsequential. Back on Aegis, the thinking was that a sparring match was a means of testing oneself. A loss left a combatant with a clear understanding of where they’d gone wrong, while the victor was supposed to note where they could do better. The merc way was probably better to avoid forming grudges, but it might hurt them when a time came where they would have to win. A few of the spectators clapped as the duellists shook hands, but most watched silently; entertainment was secondary.
When Barnes stepped into the now empty space to announce his own bout, that seemed to change. His voice carried across the cargo hold, and mercs who had before been occupied in their own drills stopped what they were doing and gathered around. Many eyes turned to Marissa with keen interest, which was the most attention she’d gotten since boarding.
She retrieved her armour from her gym bag and put it on, her limbs fitting smoothly into the familiar coverings, like a turtle and its shell. Barnes donned his own armour, and folding blades with dulled edges were pushed into their hands as they stepped into the makeshift ring. The lieutenant-commander wasn’t Westri-tall, but like most men he was taller than her, and the red-and-white Inferno armour added an imposing layer of bulk to his frame. He gave her a confident smirk before pulling his helmet down over his head, which covered his entire face.
Marissa flicked the catch on the hilt and the blade flipped out like an oversized switchblade. It was lighter than the regulation swords used by gladiators, as this was designed to hang from the belt and be deployed at a moment’s notice. On its own, it wouldn’t pack the punch Marissa was used to, but she could compensate for that. She pressed the tip against her arm guard to test the strength of the metal. It held its shape, refusing to bend; a quality weapon.
Despite her satisfaction with the sword, she was disappointed. “I left my spear upstairs. I haven’t had a chance to use that thing in years.”
“Maybe next time.” Without warning, Barnes twirled his own blade about in a swift, fluid motion, then threw it high into the air. It came back down spinning like a rotary saw, but Barnes lifted a gloved hand and caught it deftly by the hilt. A small round of applause passed through the mercs, and Marissa was left stunned.
“First to disarm wins?” Barnes asked, teasingly.
Marissa narrowed her eyes. “I think I’ve been duped. You led me to believe you were an ordinary mercenary.”
“There’s nothing ordinary about Inferno Company,” Barnes answered, squaring his shoulders for a fight. “We only hire the best, after all.”
Marissa raised her sword cautiously, not wanting any more surprises. Underestimating an opponent was a quick way to lose, no matter how good she thought she was. As one merc called for the fight to start, Marissa shifted into a defensive stance and waited for Barnes to make the first strike. Let him show what he had, and then she could match it.
Barnes seemed to have had the same idea, and he watched Marissa expectantly, sword held out horizontally before him. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and back again, as if preparing for an attack he didn’t follow through with. The helmet was another factor, hiding his face so that Marissa couldn’t even guess at what he was thinking. They stood like that for close to a minute, and Marissa wondered if they’d somehow reached a stalemate before the first move.
“You scared of me, Barnes?” she asked, risking a step to the left.
Barnes moved to match her. “No, just smart. Everyone knows who you are, Rhapsody, and none of us are dumb enough to go charging in against you.”
“Fine,” Marissa sighed, resigning herself to once more ignoring Arc’s advice. She almost skipped across the space between them and swung her sword. Barnes caught it on his arm guard, as she’d expected, and brushed it aside to strike his own blow.
Marissa neatly stepped out of his reach and allowed herself to smile. “I can’t help but notice that you don’t share the same attitudes as your troops.”
Barnes clashed his blade against her own, seemingly just to be polite. “With the commander making everyone grumpy all the time, there has to be someone to lighten the mood.”
Marissa ducked beneath his next few jabs and made a strike at his sword hand. At the last instant, Barnes twisted his wrist at an odd angle to parry her.
“There’s more to it than that, isn’t there?” Marissa asked, moving back to catch a breath.
“It helps to have a second opinion on things, and that can be hard to find if all the troops think like her,” Barnes replied, catching his own breath. “So that’s why I’m here, to consider the things she overlooks, like she did with you.”
Marissa scoffed at that. “It was Cassandra who was trying to get rid of me. Fredrichs hardly seemed to notice I was there.”
“Exactly.” Barnes made another attempt on Marissa’s defences, then backpedalled when that failed. “Her head’s always so full of strategy and logistics that I sometimes question how she remembers to dress herself in the morning. Like I said, it’s my job to catch all the things she misses. Make sense?”
In response, Marissa lunged forward and struck Barnes across the arms with several quick slashes. Most bounced harmlessly off his arm guards, but the last hit hard against the base of his sword and knocked it from his grip. It hit the floor behind him with a light clatter, and Barnes stood frozen, gawking at his newly emptied hand.
Marissa gave her sword a twirl, then folded it up. “Maybe next time we should do less talking. That didn’t seem like your A-game.”
That was the first match. Over the next couple of days, she and Barnes sparred many times, sometimes with swords and sometimes with other weapons. Marissa even brought her spear down to the cargo hold, and Barnes coached her on how she might use it in the cramped corridors of a ship, should it come to that. Before long, the other mercs began to warm up and approach her, and she was happy to oblige when they asked to practice with her. Some played by their rules, fighting for the sake of physical exertion, but many wanted a real duel, hoping to be the one to brag about defeating Marissa Rhapsody. A couple deviously clever mercs came close, but none managed to disarm her. She learned a good deal about the mercs from those fights, and what she saw instilled her with confidence. They were capable warriors, and Marissa would be glad to fight alongside them.
* * *
It was almost a week into the voyage when Cassandra announced that their next jump would carry them across the border and into no man’s space. Still woozy from the last jump, Marissa was in bed when the warning came to be on guard. The captain said the likelihood of running into pirates was low, but it was smart to be prepared.
The jump came shortly after, and Marissa prepared for it by cocooning herself in her blanket. The jumps were having less of an effect on her, but that only meant they’d gone from ‘unbearable’ to ‘excruciating but tolerable’. She found it best not to eat too soon before a jump, and keeping her limbs tucked in close to her body helped to prevent that feeling of being stretched in every direction. With these preparations, she came out of the next jump with only a headache and a slight loss of balance. If she’d had a few months of this, she might learn to cope with the jumps entirely. That, or kill herself.
She crawled out of bed about an hour after the milestone jump, feeling all right but ravenously hungry. She had a quick snack before heading down to the hold to see if anything interesting was going on. She was keen for another rematch with Barnes, wanting to see if his quick swordplay could match up to her spear.
The hold was as busy as usual, but a different sort of activity had taken hold of the mercs. The monolithic metal crates that had been loaded onto the Valiance and then forgotten were now being opened, and the mercs worked diligently to extract the contents and spread them across what had just the other day been their exercise space. An assortment of guns had taken over the spot where Marissa had sparred with Barnes and others, scope and stock attachments organized off to one side.
She stepped aside to let a pair of Phal pass by, lugging what looked like some kind of artillery between them. The long grey barrel was carried over to a spot where three identical barrels were being lifted onto large circular bases. Mounted like that, they were imposing weapons, but it was unclear what use they would be out here.
She pulled her attention away from the guns and spotted not just Barnes, but Fredrichs and Cassandra as well, conversing in the shadow of a crate twice their height. She felt a flash of anger; they were leaving her out again. She stormed over, resisting the urge to shout them down again. “What’s going on?”
A pupil slid into the corner of Fredrichs’ eye. “Nothing. We’re just setting up.”
“Now that we’re free of the Kinship, we don’t need to hide our purpose,” Cassandra elaborated. “We’re in pirate space now, so our weapons need to be ready as soon as possible.”
Marissa folded her arms. “No one told me.”
“It’s not really your business,” Fredrichs grunted.
“Now Donna, don’t be rude,” Barnes chided. “Sorry, Ms. Rhapsody—we just assumed you wouldn’t care. It’s all very boring work.”
“You still could have told me it was happening,” Marissa insisted.
“Sorry for not asking your permission, your majesty,” Fredrichs sneered with a mocking salute.
“That’s not what I meant!” Was that how she sounded, like some kind of bossy control freak? “I—I just want to know what’s going on. I want to help if I can.”
“Whatever.” With a shrug, Fredrichs stalked off to the other side of the hold where more crates were being unpacked. Despite the distance, Marissa’s keen ears could still pick out her barked orders to her troops with complete clarity.
“What is her problem?” she asked Barnes.
“She’s got a lot on her mind,” said Barnes, apologetically. “There’s this whole checklist in her head of everything that needs to be done, and we’ve only just started. She should mellow out once everything’s in place.”
Cassandra spread her hands in a surrendering gesture. “It doesn’t help when you—never mind, we’ve already had this talk. You want to help? Then I hope you know something about guns.”
“Not a thing,” Marissa confessed. “I know other weapons, though. If you want me to give the swords a look, sharpen them up or something, I can oblige.”
Cassandra shook her head. “That’s not the priority right now. We’ve got more important things that need doing right now, like putting those turrets in place.”
“You mean those grey things?” Marissa asked, glancing back to the long, mounted barrels.
Barnes nodded. “They’re remote-activated laser weapons, and they’ll be our best defence against hostile ships. Once they’re properly assembled, we’re going to attach them to the outside hull.”
“You mean you’re going to go outside?” Marissa asked with a touch of dread.
“It’s got to be done. It’s a simple procedure—nothing too risky—and it’s a good excuse to air out the Valks, so to speak.”
Marissa’s heart stopped in her chest. “You brought Valks with you?” All her anxiety was forgotten, and she felt a keen desire to see one, to touch one, maybe even—but no, she had no training with that kind of hardware.
Barnes grinned, reading her enthusiasm. “A fan, I take it? What am I saying—who doesn’t want to fly? Yeah, we’ve got five Valk suits with us, all in top condition and with a complete set of combat accessories for completionists like me. Those aren’t attached yet, though.”
Giddiness swept through Marissa. “Can I see them?”
Barnes motioned her and Cassandra to follow him. They walked around the tall crate they’d been standing beside, pushing further into the labyrinth of storage units. Barnes brought them to a particularly large box, where a group of mercs waited with a deck of cards between them.
Barnes gave them a casual salute. “’Bout time we gave the ladies some air, don’t you think? Open the box and give Ms. Rhapsody something to smile about—I’d say she’s earned it.”
The mercs stood to attention, the Phal in the group scooping up the cards before they all went to work. The crate was as large as a truck, and the tool they used to open it was some hybrid of a crowbar and a motorized claw that ripped out the bolts and allowed the mercs to gently lower one side of the box to the floor.
Everyone had seen Valk suits before; they were the go-to tool of at least one action movie hero every year, used to escape the villain’s spacecraft as it burned up in the atmosphere, or similar improbable feats. On government holidays, they could be seen wheeling about the skies above Aegis, putting on a show for the people below. They were a symbol of heroism around the Kinship, their pilots the subject of countless war documentaries, yet Marissa had never seen one up close before.
They stood around seven feet tall, held upright inside the crate by metal frames. They were painted in Inferno Company’s red and white, but the armours’ silver colouring showed around the edges. The front of the helmets jutted outward slightly, the sides of the faceplate meeting in a long crease between the dark eye-lenses. Each suit had a pair of metal wings folded behind its back, which spanned more than the suit’s height when spread. Marissa’s breath slipped away; even hung up like this, the Valks carried a certain gravitas.
She stepped up to the nearest suit, her hands reaching out of their own accord to grope the chest plate. She fumbled with one of the gauntlets, noticing how articulate the fingers were. What would it be like to put on this suit, spread those wings, and soar through the sky like a massive bird? That would be an experience, one she could tell Arc and her friends about.
“Careful, don’t want to break it,” Barnes said, mildly.
Marissa pulled her hands away quickly, as if the Valk might crumble between her fingers. She met Barnes’ eyes, saw his grin, and blushed. “They don’t break easily, do they?”
Barnes shook his head. “They’re as sturdy as they come. Valks aren’t made of individual pieces like the armour we wear. Most of it is a single unit of machinery, more like a vehicle.”
“Like one of the Empire’s Hammerfists,” Marissa suggested, recalling the bulbous metal titans that had sometimes marched through the streets of Augerium.
Barnes made a face. “I guess, but that’s like comparing a swan to a vulture. You won’t find any of the Valk’s flexibility or precision riding in a Hammerfist. Have you ever seen one of those hulks turn? It’s like watching a glacier move. The only advantage a Hammerfist has is size and strength, neither of which help in aerial combat.”
“You’re awfully passionate about the subject,” Marissa observed, returning his infectious smile.
“Passionate?” Barnes repeated, bemused. “I guess—I just think of it as knowing the tools I work with. Flying a Valk can be incredibly dangerous, so I need to know everything that can go wrong and how to fix it, mid-flight if I have to.”
“You’re a Valk pilot?”
Barnes gave her a prideful grin. “Yeah, I am. Military certified to boot. I trained all the other Valk pilots in Inferno Company personally. Didn’t I tell you all this?”
“No!” Marissa exclaimed, exasperated. “I mean, you definitely didn’t. That’s not something I’d forget.”
Barnes chuckled, giving her a knowing look. “I can tell you’re pretty keen on the Valks as well.” He cupped a hand to his chin, eyes rolling down to Marissa’s feet and back up again, sizing her up.
Cassandra had been silent for awhile, but she suddenly went rigid and folded her arms. “No, Tim. I know what you’re thinking, and speaking as captain, I say no.”
Barnes turned to Cassandra, his head cocked to one side. “Where’s the harm in it, Cass? Someone needs to go out there anyway, and I’ll be there to keep an eye out for her.”
Marissa listened blankly, before his meaning came to her. “You want me to fly a Valk? Really?”
“No, not really!” Cassandra snapped, her yellow eyes narrowing in on Barnes. “She has absolutely no training—no idea how to handle herself in one of those. Forget the costs of replacing the suit if she breaks it—Eth would skin me alive if she got hurt.”
“That’s why I plan to teach her,” said Barnes. “I show her the ropes, we get the turrets in place, and then we come back with no harm done. Come on, Cass, she’s got the spark in her—I can see it!”
“‘She’ can speak for herself,” Marissa interrupted, folding her arms. She tried to sound stern, but it was hard, given how excited she was. “What’s this about a spark?”
Barnes turned his eyes on her, visibly embarrassed. “Oh, it’s just how I say you have the makings of a Valk pilot. It takes a different skill set than a normal pilot—it’s as much about having control over your own body as controlling the suit itself. I’ve seen you fight, especially the way you pull your punches, and I’d say you have that control. You strike me as a quick learner, too.”
Marissa could have died from joy. In about a minute, she’d gone from idle imaginings to the serious possibility that she might really fly a Valk suit. She tried very hard not to seem like an over-eager child when she turned to Cassandra and asked “Can I? Please?”
Cassandra flared her nostrils. “Do you want to die? The Valk isn’t a sports car you can just jump in and drive—it’s a complex and dangerous device. What is Fredrichs going to say about this?”
“She’s given me final say in regards to the Valk suits,” Barnes replied, smugly. “They are mine to do with as I please, so long as I have your permission, Captain. I think we should at least give Marissa a chance—one flight isn’t going to hurt anyone. It’s just a little fun. I’ll make sure she doesn’t kill herself, I promise.”
Marissa nodded. “I promise, too. I’ll stay out of trouble. If you’re worried about Papos, just remember what I told you.”
“I couldn’t stop you.” A sharp hiss slipped from Cassandra’s mouth, and she dug her claws into her own shoulders anxiously. “Keep close to the ship. I said that the chances of meeting pirates are minimal, but I can’t guarantee it will be safe out there. We’re currently sitting in a debris field—nothing too big, but you should be careful anyway.”
Marissa would’ve hugged the Zulkar if she hadn’t seemed so standoffish. She settled for a salute, instead. “As you say, Captain.”
“I’ll go ask which of my pilots is willing to bow out for this flight,” Barnes said, walking off.
The next hour seemed to stretch across a whole day, the minutes ticking by at an agonizingly slow pace. The turrets had to be assembled, the Valks needed to be inspected, and the pilots had to finish with the tasks they’d already been assigned. Marissa sat by the open crate, fearing that if she tried to do anything, it would be time to fly before she was finished. Her eyes wandered almost lustfully over the metallic curves of the Valk suits as she imagined donning one. The red paint was practical, making the suits easy to locate when in the air, but she wondered if they came in blue, like her gladiator armour. That sparked another idea; aerial gladiator fights, the combatants wheeling through the sky above the audience’s heads. It sounded both amazingly entertaining and completely impractical, not to mention astoundingly dangerous. Still, she could dream.
At last, Barnes returned with three mercs, and Marissa jumped to her feet to greet them. The pilots were cautiously friendly, but they were more focused on their work. They wasted no time in donning their suits, slipping into them like a second skin. Marissa had considerably more trouble. The front of the upper torso swung up to allow entry into the suit, but she encountered her first stumbling block when she found she needed a stepladder to reach the opening. She carefully lowered herself into the suit, gripping the waist as she fit a foot into each leg. The Valk’s feet ended in two sharp talons, which made it feel like she was walking on stilts. Barnes stood beside her, leaning against the suit to keep it upright as Marissa stuck her hands into the gauntlets.
“How do I do this?” she asked, not quite sure herself what she meant.
“Close both your hands into fists and hold for a full second,” Barnes commanded.
Marissa complied, balling her hands into fists. With a click and a whir, the front of the suit lowered back into place, trapping her in darkness. Small lights flickered across the Valk’s inner workings, and the air inside the suit began to cool. She could see readouts just above eye level telling her the suit’s systems were fully operational, but she still couldn’t see outside. She glanced up, spotting a glimmer of light above her, coming in through the helmet’s lenses. She was too short.
“Is there some way to adjust the height?” she called, hoping her voice would carry through the layer of machinery.
“There is,” came Barnes’ muffled reply. “This is going to take some fiddling, so be patient.”
It took about a minute of adjusting the platforms beneath her feet to get the height right. Every hand motion was an input into the Valk suit’s controls, a reaction to pressure applied to sensor pads built into the palms and fingers of the gauntlets. It was hard to hear Barnes’ commands through the suit, and harder to wrap her head around them without a visual aid, but gradually she was raised to eye level with the helmet’s lenses and could see the outside world. The neck was a little stiff, though, and she had to tilt her entire body forwards to look down.
Barnes took hold of her helmet, brow furrowed, and adjusted it. “How’s that fit? Too snug?”
Marissa tried to shake her head, but realized it wasn’t going to work. “It fits fine, but is the neck supposed to be so stiff?”
“It’s actually pretty flexible once you get used to how it works,” said Barnes. “Don’t worry about that right now—why don’t you try walking?”
Marissa took a few wobbly steps forward, not at all confident in herself. If standing was like being on stilts, then walking was like trying to balance on a pair of chairs with only two legs between them. The weight of the wings on her back was an extra burden, throwing off her sense of balance and adding momentum where it wasn’t wanted. There was always that push from behind, so that when she lifted a foot, she was committed to taking that step and maybe a few after that. She didn’t walk far, just from one crate to another, which she leaned against to stay upright. She looked to Barnes, expecting him to be unhappy with her efforts, but he was beaming.
“A little shaky, but a good start. I can already see you’re learning.”
“You can?”
“The purpose of a Valk is to fly,” said Barnes. “Pilots don’t need to do much walking to begin with, so just being able to stay on your feet between point A and B will do.”
Marissa tried a few more practice steps while Barnes went about getting into his own suit. Was this what it was like to be tall like Arlen or Cassandra, forever struggling to stay upright? Neither showed any sign of such, but then again, she’d never seen either wearing heels. That was the closest comparison she could make, only the heels were a foot high.
Barnes entered his Valk without assistance, and strode unfalteringly across the hold. The other three were almost as graceful, falling in line behind him as he made his way out of the labyrinth of crates. Marissa felt a little embarrassed bringing up the rear, a stumbling newbie among professionals. There were eyes on them the whole way, mercs momentarily dropping their work to watch the Valks march by. Was there laughter behind those stern expressions? Why did that bother Marissa so much? She’d had far worse audiences in her time; she should be able to handle a few smirks.
The Phal mercs appeared with a grunt of exertion, hefting the heavy turrets, yet walking fast enough to overtake and pass by Marissa and the other Valks. They followed behind, moving up onto the upper deck of the ship and into the airlock.
Hesitation seized Marissa. This was really it, then; she was really going outside, into space, with only the suit to protect her. Her legs felt heavier, making it that much harder to walk. Could she do this? She’d known what she had agreed to by donning the suit, but only on the edge did it sink in that she could really be in danger out there. A faulty air supply could have her suffocating, or a piece of debris might pierce her suit and give her a messier death. Worse was her nightmare scenario: losing control of the suit and shooting away into the void, until her thrusters eventually gave out and she was left stranded, drifting helplessly into the darkness. That was the loneliest way to go she could think of, and worse than any fate she’d ever imagined as a gladiator.
The other pilots filed into the airlock, but a chill down the spine brought Marissa to a jerking halt on the threshold. Maybe she should decline, just take the suit off and find something else to do. Barnes might say she had potential, but her part in this operation would only slow the others down. She thought about voicing this opinion, but that initial excitement she’d felt when she’d been offered this opportunity remained, and she couldn’t quite muster the strength to say no.
A Valk stepped up to her, and Barnes’ voice buzzed from the communicator built into her helmet. “You coming?”
Marissa swallowed. “Yeah, sorry—just a little nervous.”
“I understand,” said Barnes. “My first time was pretty scary, too. Trust me, though—space is the best place to start flying. There’s no gravity to worry about on top of everything else.” He offered a hand, the white-painted palm opened up to her.
Something about Barnes’ encouraging tone tugged a familiar string in Marissa’s heart. He reminded her of Coach, someone who believed in people, encouraged them to push themselves. If someone like that said she could do this, then couldn’t she? She’d survived Augerium and already proven to herself and most of Aegis that she was one of the toughest fighters alive, so why was this shaking her up so much?
She gently pushed Barnes’ hand aside. She could do this alone, at least. They stepped into the airlock to join the other Valks, lined up against one wall. The turrets took up most of the space, and the unsuited mercs quickly tethered the weapons together before vacating the airlock. Barnes walked from gun to gun, inspecting the strength of each tether before moving on. When he was done, he took his place by the exit hatch.
“All right, everything’s secure,” he announced over the communicator. “Before we get these set up, I want all you kids to take five minutes and have a fly-around. Most of you remember how to fly, but I want you to stretch those muscles anyway and get back into the groove. If you find any kinks in the thrusters or anything else, you report back to me immediately, got it?”
The mercs went down the line with their “affirmatives,” until they reached Marissa. “G-got it,” she stuttered hurriedly.
“Communicators are working, at least,” Barnes said, a hint of a chuckle in his voice. “Cass, you there? Everything’s a-go. Open the airlock at your leisure.”
The door they’d come in through slammed shut behind them, and the lock secured itself with a loud clang; no turning back now. Marissa held the railing beside her in an iron grip as the air was filtered out of the chamber over the next minute, feeling a faint pull from multiple directions. Once the airlock had finished depressurizing, the exit hatch split down the middle and began to slide open gradually, like a large alien mouth opening to swallow her. Marissa clamped her eyes shut and waited for it to be over, nearly crushing the railing in her grasp.
When Marissa opened her eyes, there was a great stretch of stars yawning before her. The infinitely deep black seemed paradoxically close, like a dark curtain she could reach out and pluck the tiny glowing lights from the fabric of. While she intellectually understood what she was looking at, the primal part of her mind that governed her senses received the conflicting information and sent her stomach churning.
Barnes let go of the railing first, pushing himself off the wall. “All right, it’s playtime, kids. Five minutes, like I said, and remember that you keep your wings folded in zero-G.”
“Yes, mom,” one of the mercs deadpanned. Marissa chuckled along with the others, but the breath left her lungs when the first of the mercs pushed off and plunged into space. The merc kept his arms at his sides and his legs tight together, slowly spinning like a corkscrew through the threshold. Then the thrusters at the base of his folded wings flashed and he shot out of sight. Another followed close behind, and then the other shortly after that, leaving only Marissa still clinging to the railing.
Barnes had been slowly drifting towards the exit this entire time, and he grabbed the side of the door to stop and look at her. He didn’t say anything, only watched, waiting for her to take the leap. That was it, really; just a single, simple action to get her going. It shouldn’t have been this hard, but it was, and Barnes’ silence seemed to say that he knew there was nothing he could do to make it easier. Marissa had to do this on her own.
She took the deepest, longest breath of her life, and let go. She breathed out; she wasn’t dead. In fact, she was almost stationary, floating beside the railing. She did as the others had done and kicked off the wall, but without the expected lurch of gravity, what happened next left her disoriented. She was suddenly outside the ship, saw it spin up over her head, and then the stars streaked by around her as she tried not to scream.
Just as she thought her nightmare scenario had come true and she was hurtling into space, the large bulk of the Valiance swung back into view, right in front of her. The next instant, she felt an impact on her shoulder and was pulled back towards the ship. A small metal claw attached to a tether had seized her shoulder, and her eyes followed the line back to Barnes, clinging to the edge of the airlock. The tether was retracting into a device on the lieutenant-commander’s hip, pulling her towards the ship. She reached out to him, and he grabbed hold of her shoulders, bringing her spinning to a stop.
A burst of hearty laughter exploded over the communicator. “I’ll give you a 10 for that somersault, but your recovery could use some work.” He hit a button on the hip-device, and the claw released Marissa’s suit before the tether coiled it back to his side. “These grapples are really handy if you want to anchor yourself to something. The lines are pretty strong, too, so don’t worry about snapping them.”
Marissa glanced down to her own hip and found a similar device built into the suit. She ran her fingers along it until she found a switch and the claw folded up at one end. Given how small it was, no bigger than her fist, it was no wonder she’d missed it before. Using Barnes’ arm as an anchor, she reached over and grabbed the side of the airlock, wanting a more secure handhold.
“Thanks for the help,” she said once she’d caught her breath. “Now, how do I fly this thing?”
Barnes let go and began to drift away, flattening his arms and legs into a straight line. He lifted his head up, or what was up relative to Marissa, and then his thrusters kicked in and he went zooming up over the top of the ship. Marissa leaned out to watch him go, speechless.
“Once you’ve got your arms and legs in position, just look where you want to go,” Barnes’ voice said, as if he was standing right next to her. “Braking is as simple as lifting your arms.”
“That’s it?” Somehow Marissa thought it must be more difficult than that, otherwise why didn’t everyone fly Valk suits?
“Well, no, that’s not it,” Barnes admitted. “That’s just the basic flight mode. It’s a hell of a lot more complicated if you want to use your arms for anything. Don’t worry about that right now—your first flight should be a fun one.”
Fun, right. Marissa had more than a few doubts, but she knew she couldn’t stop now. She pushed herself out into the open, and was pleased to find she didn’t immediately start spinning again. The other mercs zipped by overhead, caught up in what looked a lot like a game of tag. Flying into their midst with only an inkling of what to do sounded like a good way to get someone killed, so instead she focused on a large piece of debris floating in the distance. Now that she was looking, there were actually quite a few of the floating rocks, clustered close enough to give the Valiance some cover, but without posing a threat to the hull. Marissa picked the nearest one, about the size of a bus, judging the distance to be only a mile. She copied the position Barnes had used, arms at her sides and legs together like a tail.
There was a sudden push from behind, and then the debris was flying towards her at breathtaking speed. At that velocity, it would almost certainly kill her if it hit. Some might have frozen up, consumed by fear, but Coach had always said that standing still in a fight was a good way to lose, and that was applicable here as well. She gathered her thoughts, realized that the debris wasn’t coming towards her—she was flying at it—and everything clicked into place. She turned her head to one side as far as the suit would allow, and felt a subtle shift as the thrusters on her back adjusted, propelling her on an altered course. She just barely avoided clipping the rock, so close that she could see the grainy texture of the stone beneath a layer of ice as she passed it by.
She continued to crane her neck around, adjusting her trajectory to fly in a wide arc until she had the Valiance back in her sights. With a jolt, she realized that she’d crossed the distance from the ship to the debris without really noticing, and would probably slam into the hull if she didn’t slow down. She pulled her arms about half an inch from her body, which seemed to do the job of lowering her speed. The other mercs flew by her, handling their suits with far more grace than she had, almost as if they were showing off. Marissa ignored them and continued flying towards the top of the ship where Barnes had perched. As she came in for the landing, Marissa spread her arms, the thrusters firing in competing directions to arrest her momentum. She drifted down beside the lieutenant-commander and grabbed hold of the communications antenna, the only outcropping on an otherwise smooth surface.
“Nice flying,” Barnes said, voice dripping with sarcasm.
“It could have gone worse,” said Marissa, picturing the near-scrape she’d had with that rock. “It almost did, actually. Everyone needs practice, right?”
“That’s true, but that course-adjustment was pretty good for a first-timer. I think you’ll learn quickly. Want another try?” He took flight without waiting for an answer, leaving Marissa scrabbling to catch up.
They put some distance between themselves and the Valiance, then Barnes rose and fell in a series of loops, which Marissa quickly bungled in imitation. He flew in close, slowing to a crawl just long enough to lay a teasing hand between the bulky shoulders of Marissa’s Valk suit before zipping away again. Tag, you’re it.
“I’m starting to think you’re not a very serious person,” Marissa said as she planned her trajectory to catch him.
“You’d be surprised what people will accept if you play it as a joke.” Barnes added a few loops to his course that made Marissa’s pursuit more difficult. “Kids play games to learn skills, so why shouldn’t adults? You’re an athlete—you understand.”
Marissa adjusted her course again, shooting past Barnes and angling herself to tag him from below. “I do, but I figured mercenary work was too grim for fun and games.” She slowed, then raised a hand to touch Barnes’ arm as he tried to pass overhead.
With a sudden jerk, Barnes’ thrusters reversed, lifting him out of reach at the last second. Laughter blasted over the communicator as he saluted.
“Nice try,” he said, spinning around to flee. “You’re right, though. It is too grim for fun and games, which is why moments like this are all the more important. Trust me—it won’t always be like this, so we need to have a few laughs while we can. Now how about you shape up and actually try to catch me, Rhapsody?”
The chase was short and within the time Barnes had allotted, but in that time the lieutenant-commander employed a whole arsenal of tricks that Marissa was eager to learn. Several times he faked her out, suddenly reversing with only the smallest motion of his arms. He used the pieces of debris to his advantage, weaving in between them and kicking off their surfaces to change course. How he managed to do it all so quickly completely escaped Marissa, and in the end, she couldn’t catch him.
They reconvened at the airlock, where the mercs were waiting, all neatly lined up in a row. Marissa tried to join them, but overshot and settled for latching onto the door again. The turrets, no longer held down by their weight, floated inside and gently jostled against each other.
“I take it none of you ran into any problems,” Barnes said, running his gaze down the line. “So then, let’s get these turrets attached. Orson, Deltis—I want you two to attach a pair to this side of the ship. That’s one at a time, mind you—don’t try to be show-offs and do one each. Securing these things is a two-person job. Black, you and I are going to take the remaining turrets to the far side, with help from our guest.”
Marissa stood by and let the mercs handle the first leg of the job: removing the turrets from the airlock. They untied the tethers from the railings and wrapped them around the turrets, dividing them into two pairs. Once that was done, Orson and Deltis, indistinguishable from each other with the Valk suits on, pushed their pair outside and rose to the top of the ship. Barnes and Black gave the two a minute to clear out before following, doing the same. Marissa flew after them, unsure how she could help.
Barnes motioned her towards the turrets. “Grab hold of the tether. It’ll be easier to steer this with you pulling up top and us pushing from the bottom.”
Marissa did as she was asked, wrapping her hands tightly around the tether. It was strong, constructed from some kind of synthetic cord that held firmly against a forceful tug, maybe the same stuff as the grapple’s tether. She positioned herself above the turret, then felt a sudden lift as the other two activated their thrusters.
She added her own suit’s propulsion to the mix and they shot upwards. They passed Orson and Deltis, already working to attach the first turret, and Marissa waved. Both looked up, briefly, and one even lifted a hand before returning to their work. A dutiful bunch, these mercs, but not the friendliest. She adjusted her trajectory without needing to be told, carrying the turrets and the two hanging below over the Valiance’s hull around to the other side. She let Barnes and his partner take it from there, pulling the turrets, and by extension her, down to the hull. They took one of the turrets, while Marissa held the other so it wouldn’t drift away.
“So, where does this go?” she asked. There didn’t seem to be any ports to connect the turrets’ wide bases to the hull.
“We just stick it on top here,” said Barnes, lowering the turret into place. “The base is magnetic and will hold on without us needing to fiddle with any connecting parts.”
“How does it get power then?” As far as Marissa knew, most combat capable ships had weaponry built into them and drew their power from the main generator.
“Each turret has a pretty large battery in it,” explained Barnes, releasing the turret. It remained stationary, stuck to the hull as if it had always been a part of it. “There’s enough juice for, oh, three good shots each, and we’ve got spares back in the hold. That’s not a lot, but this is a cargo ship, not a battle cruiser.”
“Let’s hope that’s enough,” said Marissa, doubtfully.
“It’s not the power of the laser cannon, it’s what you shoot with it,” Barnes said. “Sorry. You want to help with this one?”
Marissa pushed the second turret along the hull, following Barnes’ directions. He stopped her near the front end of the ship, and Marissa carefully set the turret down, actually feeling the moment the magnet took hold of the hull. She backed up as Barnes calibrated the weapon.
“Right, everything’s set up,” Barnes buzzed over the communicator. “You listening, Cass? Why don’t you give these things a whirl?”
A moment later, the barrels of the turrets lifted into position, then spun a full circle before coming to a stop.
“Looks good on my end,” Cassandra’s voice proclaimed.
“Same here,” Barnes replied. “Orson, how are you and Deltis?”
“Guns’re working,” one of the two responded.
“Then we’re good to go!” Barnes exclaimed. “How you holding up, Ms. Rhapsody?”
“Better than I was,” Marissa said. “I could do with some more practice, I think.”
Barnes nodded within the limits of his suit’s stiff neck. “You’ll get it, but not today. OK kids, it’s time to put our toys away! I want everyone inside and cleaned up for dinner!”
Black saluted and rocketed across the hull to join the other two mercs on the opposite side. Barnes turned to Marissa, as if asking if she needed assistance, but she waved him off and he followed after Black.
Marissa took one last look around her, at the inconceivable number of stars in the sky. She was still nervous, but space didn’t seem so intimidating now that she was out here. It was limitless, yes, but she was pretty sure she wouldn’t get lost in it. Hopefully, Barnes wasn’t bullshitting when he said she’d get another chance to try on a Valk.
As she craned her neck to look over her head, she spotted a golden shape. She blinked in surprise and looked again, but all she saw were more stars. Must’ve been a reflection on the suit’s lenses. She shrugged it off and put her legs together, flying the way Barnes had gone.