There was something oppressive about the inside of the pirate ship. The width of the corridors, the height of the ceilings; all of it had crossed that half inch from “comfortable” to “claustrophobic”. Marissa had frequently brushed her elbows and shoulders against the walls and kept bumping against members of the pirate crew as she tried to pass by them. The same could be said about the hangar, where the triangular fighters stood wing tip to wing tip, meaning even she had to keep her head down when crossing the chamber. Two Valk suits were pressed up against the back wall, open and ready to accept their pilots. The other three were on another ship in order to spread out their forces, and the rest of the mercs were on a third ship in preparation for the infiltration. Marissa knew exactly one person on this ship: the other pilot, Black.
Of the Valk pilots, Black had seemed the least talkative, often responding to Barnes’ orders on test flights without confirming that he’d heard them. He was a textbook example of a merc, with a buzz cut, a grim expression, and eyes like steel. If he hadn’t argued for Marissa to join him here, he still probably wouldn’t have stood out to her. He gave both suits a thorough examination, rapping his fists against the armoured plates on the shoulders and kneeling down to test the stability of the legs. He nodded to himself, then turned to Marissa. “Everything looks in order. Do you want to suit up first, or should I?”
“Right now? Shouldn’t we wait until we’re where we need to be?” They may have changed ships, but the entire ragtag fleet still lingered on the edge of the solar system and out of sensor-range for the time being.
Black shook his head in a slow, almost mechanical way. “Once we make the hop into orbit, we won’t have much time to prepare. The fighters will launch once the target’s been located, and we’ll need to stick close if we don’t want to get picked out of the air by enemy fire. Besides, the hop will probably leave us disoriented, and I’d rather spend the time between arrival and launch getting my bearings instead of fiddling with my suit. Nothing worse than having the thing fall apart on you the moment you take flight because you didn’t properly adjust the wings.”
Marissa couldn’t argue with his logic; she was the amateur here. “You first. I don’t have a clue how I could help you into the suit if I was already wearing one myself.”
Black hoisted himself into the Valk with the strength of his arms alone, his legs sliding into the longer limbs with a fluid ease. He slipped his arms into the shoulder sockets, his bare hands and forearms poking out through the wrist openings. Marissa gave him a questioning look as she helped secure the chest piece in place, pointing out the missing arms to him. He gestured to a black case sitting in the corner on top of a couple of much larger boxes. Marissa retrieved it and, curious, opened it up. Four Valk gauntlets rested snugly in the case’s lining, two for each hand. They were different from the ones she’d used in the test flights; while the portion covering the hands looked the same, the part just past the wrist joint—the vambrace?—was thicker, and she noticed several thin slots in each. She handed two to Black and watched him put them on, waiting for an explanation.
Black gripped each of the wrist parts in turn and twisted them into place. “Right, hand me the other two, then get in your suit. I’ll explain afterwards.”
“What about your helmet?” Marissa asked as she passed him the other gauntlets.
“I’ve never been in a hyperspace hop,” Black said. “If it’s anything like a normal jump, it’s better to keep the helmet off until my stomach settles.”
Marissa went to put on her own suit, trying to recall how to do it. She got in all right, but then there was the matter of the height difference between her and Barnes, the previous pilot, which created a familiar situation to when she’d first gotten in a Valk. Luckily, it was easier without the helmet attached, and Black talked her through the process step by step, until her limbs were where they needed to be and the chest plate dropped into place. Black slid a gauntlet onto each of her arms and did the adjustments for her.
“So, what makes these gauntlets special?” she asked, turning her hands over to get a better look.
“Noticed, did you?” Black asked with a hint of amusement. He held up his left hand, then made a fist. Six large metal hooks sprang from the slots around the wrist; two above the hand, two below, and one on either side of the fist. “We call it a claw,” he explained. “The grapple has a strong grip, but this is like the jaws of a half-starved animal. Once it bites down, it won’t let go until you say so. It’s the best way to get a grip on the hull of a ship.”
Marissa experimented with her own claw, a little horrified at the speed and force with which the hooks shot out. Black talked about getting a hold on ships, but this could easily be used as a deadly weapon as well. “What about the other hand?”
Black grinned. “I think you’ll like this one.” He made a fist with his right hand, and a triangular blade of about eight inches sprang out from the slot above the wrist and extended past his knuckles.
Marissa squinted at the blade. There was an aura about it, as if it were radiating something. No, it was vibrating, almost too fast to see.
“Be careful where you point it,” Black continued, holding it away from himself. “It’s more like a saw than a sword, and it can cut through damn near anything. Stick this under an enemy turret, and you’d probably be able to sever the whole thing at the base.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Marissa said, blinking hard. The longer she stared at the pulsating blade, the more her eyes hurt. “What about ranged combat?”
Black sheathed the blade and touched the grapple on his hip. “Normally, you want to use this baby to close that distance. Valk suits aren’t made to take that much fire. You should be getting in close and staying out of the open as much as possible.”
He awkwardly shuffled over to the boxes in the corner, balancing precariously on the Valk’s pointed legs. He reached inside and produced a gun, which he held out to Marissa. It had a long barrel, with some kind of connecting peg on the bottom, and a thin arm extending out to one side, ending in a grip with a trigger attached. Black turned it upside down and inserted the peg into a slot on the underside of Marissa’s right gauntlet, the little arm twisting up into her palm with the trigger in reach of her thumb.
“The rounds explode on impact, so don’t fly too close to your target when you shoot,” he said before he turned back to the largest of the boxes.
Marissa carefully mimed hitting the trigger, noting that she could comfortably rest her thumb against the grip without setting it off. When she looked back at Black, her heart nearly stopped. The merc hefted a weapon three times the size of her own gun out of the box, then rested it on his knee. The monstrosity had six barrels, which spun soundlessly as he tested the firing mechanism.
“C-can I have one of those?” Marissa asked.
Black shook his head. “Not today. This is a rotary cannon, and it’s fucking dangerous. The Lieutenant-Commander would kill me from beyond the grave if I let a rookie try this. Besides, I’ve got another job for you.”
The final wondrous toy that Black produced was a set of small discs, each with a black sphere in the centre. He loaded them into the slots of a square handheld carrying case, then showed her that one could be removed with the push of a button on the side.
“Attach the case to your free hip and then listen carefully to what I’ve got to tell you. These are bombs, plain and simple. They magnetically attach to a surface, and the sphere in the middle will glow to tell you it’s armed. You get clear once that happens, understand?”
“Uh, sure, but what am I doing with them?” Marissa took the case and attached it to her hip as Black had told her.
“The Commander doesn’t think we should rely on your mystery friend to open the door for us this time, so we may need to blast our way into the ship. Seeing how eager you are, I think you’re the best candidate to do it. You fly to the Superius as fast you can while I give you cover fire, find the hangar door, and use a few bombs to give our guys a way in. Sound like a plan?”
Marissa nodded, hesitantly. “You’re putting a lot of trust in me.”
Black shrugged; an impressive feat, given the weight of his suit. “The Lieutenant-Commander did too, and he was the best judge of people I’ve ever known. If he believed in you, then the rest of us pilots do too.”
“Thank you.” She would do everything she could to justify that trust.
The two of them spent the next half-hour discussing flight techniques in preparation for the coming battle. They had no room to practice with the fighters in the hangar, so Black proposed various situations they might run into, and they mimed out their theoretical movements with their hands, looking like a pair of kids playing make-believe. It wasn’t nearly as helpful as actual training, but it was the best they could do right now, and Marissa focused more than ever, hammering Black’s advice into her head and playing out each scenario internally. She could do this; she had to.
An alarm sounded across the hangar, and the crew began moving at double-speed. They would be making the hyperspace hop in a matter of minutes, and the pirates hurried to finish their work before strapping themselves in. Marissa and Black couldn’t sit in their suits, so they grabbed hold of the safety railing attached to the back wall and braced themselves. Around them, the hangar became still as everyone went to their positions. As a voice announced that the ship was about to hop, Marissa recalled some advice she’d been given about hyperspace jumps and took a deep breath.
Space seemed to bend and twist, creating that awful sensation she had frequently felt on the voyage into Freespace. Then, just as quickly, the universe realigned. It was like someone had reached inside and grabbed her stomach and pulled it back until her intestines grew taut, only then to release it and send the abused organ hurtling in the other direction. Marissa bent over and let loose; Black’s advice about helmets had been spot on.
Beads of sweat had formed instantaneously on Black’s brow, and he let Marissa’s moment of weakness pass without comment. His hand found her shoulder, holding her up as she retched. The crew sprang back to work and gave the two of them a wide berth. A life on ships had let them adapt to the jolts of hyperspace. Who knew if they felt queasy at all?
Her breakfast safely evacuated, Marissa regained her composure, or at least the appearance of it. She nodded to Black in thanks, at the same time pushing his hand away. She stood under her own power, willing her stomach to be still and obey.
A voice croaked from the speakers overhead. “We’ve entered orbit around Norus II. Sensors are picking up energy readings and are triangulating now.” The speaker’s voice faded away into incoherent mumbling, then burst out in excitement. “We’ve got them! All fighters ready—we’re closing in. Estimated time for engagement is twenty minutes!”
“Just like that?” Marissa asked the universe as a whole.
“These are pirates—they’re used to mobilizing on short notice, before they’re detected.” Black flexed his hands and the wings on his back partially unfolded, prepared for flight. “We should be getting ready as well.”
Marissa grinned. “I’ve been ready for days.”
* * *
The worst part about waiting for take-off wasn’t dread of the coming battle or worrying about flying, as Marissa had expected. She’d already worn those worries down to a vague unease in the back of her mind. The worst part was the heat.
The fighter pilots climbed into the cockpits of the smaller vessels and started up their engines, waves of warmth pouring out behind them. The combined output of six fighters filled the hangar with an atmosphere like the hottest day on a tropical island. The fans in Marissa’s suit struggled valiantly against the sweltering onslaught, but she felt sweat trickling across her skin anyway. She began to fear that the heat might kill her before Shodus’ forces got the chance.
A crack of light appeared at the other end of the hangar, admitting a cool gust of air. The crack grew, yawning wide. There was a pretty picture of blue sky, and just a hint of brown mountains on the distant horizon. Marissa bit her lip impatiently; she wanted to leap out into that sky, to soar over that landscape. Only the fighters were in the way, awaiting the command to launch.
A sudden impact obliterated her excitement, and the view outside seemed to tremble within the frame of the hangar doorway. Everything within the ship remained upright, still held in the grasp of artificial gravity. Marissa turned to Black, and his expression seemed to mirror her own thoughts; the battle had just begun. They lowered their helmets into place, attaching them so that they linked into the Valk’s systems.
The thrusters of the two leading fighters flared to life, a bright orange fire burning in their depths. They rolled towards the exit on their landing gear, then lowered their wings at an angle in preparation for take-off. The engines let out another roar, and then the vehicles shot outside as the landing gear folded beneath them. The second row sparked their engines.
Fleeting shapes shot across the blue sky. It appeared at least some of the other ships had arrived and were unloading their own deadly cargo. That was a relief; whatever firepower the Superius had at its disposal, the pirates had the advantage of numbers at least.
The next two fighters lifted off and cleared about ten metres outside before a hail of glowing red pellets shredded one of them into a plummeting wreck. That same hail struck the main ship and punched holes in the walls around them. The whistle of rushing air filled the hangar.
“Well shit,” Black muttered through his communicator. “We’re in their sights. There’s no way we’re going to make it if we fly into that unprotected.”
“So what do we do?” With the increasing number of holes in the ship, she didn’t think staying on board was the smart option.
The last two ships were undaunted and began to roll towards the exit. Black swore, and then he was bounding after them. Bewildered, Marissa followed.
“What are we doing?” she asked as she juggled the twin tasks of running and keeping her balance.
“The fighters should provide some protection, and their take-off speed is faster than the Valks’,” Black panted into his communicator. “Our best chance is to hitch a ride and hope the fighters can get us close to the Superius.”
Both fighters were already nearing take-off, rolling towards the lip of the open hangar. Marissa pushed herself harder, throwing the weight of her suit behind every step until she was moving in a sort of leaping stumble. Black reached his fighter first, and the jets in the centre of his wings gave a short burst of force to propel him into the air. He landed on the fighter’s wing and jammed his claw into its surface. The fighter rose off the floor a moment later, unhindered by the additional burden, and soared free of the ship. Another red, glowing projectile clipped its free wing as it turned, but it continued on out of sight with Black in tow.
Marissa began to panic; the other fighter, her only chance, angled its wings, the jets roaring to full power. In the same instant the wheels of the landing gear left the floor, and Marissa pushed her own jets hard. She flew forward, closing the distance between her and the fighter, but the small ship was already in the air. She reached out her left arm and clenched her fist to release her claw. Her body hit the side of the wing and began sliding down its length, the tips of her claw scraping across the surface. She screamed as the fighter carried her into open air, desperately grasping for a solid hold. Her legs were dangling over the wing’s tip when she felt a jolt pass through her arm as the claw dug in and she came to a stop. She pressed herself up against the surface, holding on for dear life as the fighter spun.
Now she heard the sound of battle: the roar of fighter engines as they shot by, the crack and boom of explosive weaponry all around her. She raised her head and looked back the way she’d come; the boxy pirate ship left behind was dwindling away, spouting smoke and fire in multiple places. It remained airborne, but any more punishment and Marissa could see it plummeting towards the rocky plateau below.
Another fighter flew by overhead, and she ducked reflexively. She watched its trajectory, then looked ahead and finally laid eyes on the target. The Superius loomed high above the plateaus, a dark shadow against the sun. It was a large ship, the length of at least three Paragon Stadiums. It had a rectangular shape, and its flat face rested its chin on a long laser barrel. Two ‘wings’ curved upwards from the back, large and horn-like. The entire ship was coloured the same murk-green as the Zulkar’s armour had been, but she hardly noticed. She’d already spotted the red snake shape slithering across its side, and the sight of the same sigil that had been seared into Arc’s flesh stoked her anger.
“Black, where are you?”
“Did you catch a ship? We should be flying in a loose formation.” Black paused. “Look to your right, and a little up.”
She followed his directions and her eyes fell on another fighter flying close enough to make out the small flaws in its paint job. A winged figure clung to the nearer wing and raised his free hand to wave. Marissa waved back.
“What the hell are they shooting us with?” she blurted out.
“No clue. Probably not standard Empire artillery,” Black replied. “I see cannons on either side of the ship.”
Marissa could see them too, a pair of barrels sprouting from bulbous bases. As she watched, they swivelled in opposite directions, the far cannon directing its barrel towards another of Corda’s ships, which was unleashing a barrage of energy blasts upon the Superius. A glowing red orb emerged from the barrel to a sound like thunder, flying straight for the pirate ship. Halfway there, it exploded and split into hundreds of pieces of glowing shrapnel. Many of the pieces missed, but a few punched right through the ship’s hull, leaving holes that glowed bright enough for Marissa to see from miles away.
“Shit!” Black barked suddenly.
Marissa looked back to the Superius and immediately understood. The near cannon was pointed in their direction, and Marissa could see a red glow forming as she stared down the wide barrel.
“Shit!” she echoed.
The metallic sphere was dislodged with another thunderclap and came flying towards them like a blazing sun. Marissa felt a sudden shift as her fighter began to pull up, jets firing at full power. She pressed herself against the wing and braced herself. She heard the crack of the sphere splitting, followed by a torrent of impacts as shrapnel struck the fighter. A piece punctured the wing only a few inches from her head, and she stared at the singed hole in mute surprise. More impacts followed, the vibrations travelling through the suit and rattling her teeth. Then, all of a sudden, she felt a drop.
She risked looking up and saw the world spinning around her. She was still attached to the wing, but when Marissa looked left, it appeared that the wing was no longer attached to the fighter. There was a jagged severed edge where the body of the ship had once been, and then empty air. She was plummeting now, spinning wildly in the clutches of gravity. Marissa didn’t know where she should be going, but it certainly wasn’t down. She unhooked the claw and struggled against gravity’s weight to separate herself from the wing. She pushed hard with both her hands and feet to get a few inches of breathing room, then quickly unfolded her wings. She fired the thrusters, but it wasn’t enough. The plateau directly below her seemed to be growing wider with every passing second, and the force of the thrusters was not enough to slow her fall. There needed to be something else; momentum.
She took a deep breath to calm herself, then shut off the jets and refolded her wings. Moving in to the downward pull, she turned into a nosedive towards the ground. What she did next would either save her life, or kill her even sooner. Hopefully she’d be dead before she felt anything break.
With a simple movement of her hands, the jets roared to life again and she picked up speed. The ground drew closer, like it was eager to break her fall, but Marissa had other plans. She unfolded her wings, then put all her strength into jerking her body upwards. With the assistance of the jets, she swooped up in an arc, shooting high into the air.
She let out a shout of excitement and relief. Now that she had the momentum, it took her only a moment to get the hang of flying, weaving up and down through the air. The Superius loomed overhead, casting a long shadow across the land. Pirate fighters circled around it like birds of prey, pecking at its hide with their comparatively tiny weapons. It was hard to tell from this angle if they were having any effect. Any ship was weakest from the inside, and it was Marissa’s job to open a path.
She checked her communicator. “Black, you still there?”
Static fizzled into her ear in response, but Marissa thought she heard something beneath it. She made the call again, desperate for some kind of guidance.
“Rhapsody?” Black’s voice pierced the static at last. “Thank god you’re alive! I saw your fighter fall apart and thought you’d gone with it.”
“Nope, still here. Where are the others?”
“The Valks? They’re working on dismantling one of those cannons,” Black answered. “We should leave them to it—no transport’s going to get through with those things active.”
Every second counted, so Marissa thought quickly. “Then we should make that entrance.”
“Right, be with you in a minute.”
Black’s red-white Valk suit dropped into view in half that time, matching her movements from about thirty feet away. The rotary cannon stuck to his hip like it was part of the suit, and didn’t seem to hinder his movements. “We’re lucky. I just saw a couple of enemy fighters emerge from the closer side of the ship, so I know where the hangar doors are.”
Marissa tried to give him a thumbs-up, but had to frantically realign herself. Hand controls were not the best for non-verbal communication. “All right, point the way and I’ll do my job. You still going to give me covering fire?”
“I’ll try,” Black replied. “There are automated turrets all along the side of the ship, so watch yourself.”
They rose towards the Superius together. The fighters drew off most of the enemy fire, and Marissa noticed a couple engaged in dogfights with the Zulkar ships, all of which bore that ugly shade of green that Shodus seemed to like so much. The Valks were able to clear the distance with only a few evasive twists, and the Superius grew to take up the entirety of Marissa’s vision.
Black slowed down, his wings turning sideways to allow him to hover. “Good luck, Rhapsody.” He grabbed the rotary cannon and rotated it in its socket on his hip to face the ship. He gave Marissa a salute, then gestured for her to go.
Marissa swooped close to the side of the ship, pushing her thrusters to their limits. The turrets Black had mentioned, like smaller versions of the ones she’d installed with him and Barnes on the Valiance, were slow to react as they swivelled around to fire at her back. They never got a chance; Black unleashed a barrage of explosive rounds into the hull of the ship, sweeping destruction across the guns. Marissa’s flight was more about staying ahead of that than avoiding turret fire.
The hangar doors came into view as she soared on, semi-camouflaged in the Superius’ side. Marissa slowed and dove towards them to find where the two large doors met. She located the crease between them and latched onto one side with her claw.
“Attention all personnel,” a voice said over the communicator—probably one of Corda’s people. “The second wave has arrived in orbit and is descending now. We need a path cleared for them as quickly as possible.”
The second wave; Arc and the others were on one of those ships. She didn’t even to have a second to catch her breath. She pulled one of the discs from the pack on her hip and smacked it against the crease. It magnetized to the metal surface and she armed the device, then detached her claw and flew clear.
A familiar voice spoke into her ear, this one exuberant. “This is Deltis. We’ve destroyed the barrel of the first cannon, and are moving on to the next.”
That was some good news at least; the second wave wouldn’t have to deal with as much firepower when they arrived. Marissa ducked beneath a passing fighter on her way out of the bomb’s blast radius. When she was clear, she flew a slow loop back around to watch, just in time to catch the fireworks.
The tiny disc made an impressive explosion. Orange fire bloomed from its centre, erupting out in all directions. Even at a safe distance, Marissa felt a push from that blast, nearly knocking her out of the uneasy equilibrium she’d found as she flew. She made another circle, waiting for the smoke to clear, only to have her excitement vanish. A black mark had been scorched across the doors, but they were still intact and still closed. She risked a closer look and returned to her landing spot on the doors. There was damage where she had planted the bomb, but it was only a wide dent in the tough metal. One bomb wasn’t enough, but maybe two would be? Was there any time to test that?
There were four bombs left in the holster. Marisa removed one and attached it to the single dent in the Superius’ armour, right where she’d put the first. Then, with quick mechanical movements, she placed the other three around the crater. Moving to each spot wasn’t easy; she had to quickly detach the claw, use the thrusters to boost a short distance, then catch the claw on the door again to plant a bomb. Detach, boost, catch, plant—it became a sort of chant in the back of her head. Soon the dent was at the centre of three blinking points.
“The second wave is estimated to join the battle in two minutes!” someone barked in her ear.
Black’s voice cut in immediately afterward. “Rhapsody, what the hell are you doing? All those bombs at once—there’s no way you can clear the combined blast radius in time!”
“You heard the announcement—we don’t have time to play it safe.” Marissa kicked off against the door and boosted away. She could make it, she told herself, squeezing her fists into tight little balls. She pushed the thrusters as hard as they would go and shot across the sky like a streaking comet. One of the pirate carriers went up in flames in the distance, its four wings crumbling to pieces as it fell. She held her breath, praying she wasn’t going to share that fate.
When it happened, it made a sound that couldn’t be described—a roar of fire and metal that penetrated the barrier of her helmet even more than the thunderclap of the Superius’ cannons. She didn’t look back, just pushed on, eyes fixed on the clear blue sky ahead. It couldn’t possibly help, but Marissa instinctively threw her weight forward anyway, willing herself to speed up. She couldn’t be sure if it was a shockwave or the blast itself that hit her, but she was hit by a powerful force from behind seconds after the roar. The heat was brief but intense, making her sweat even more despite the air-conditioned suit. She shouted in surprise, then felt her entire body pushed forward and begin to spin.
Head-over-heels and upside-down, she twisted through the air, struggling to keep a hold on her wits and her flight path. Then, finally, she remembered to tuck in her arms, stopping the thrusters. Gravity’s pull told her which way was down, and she dove into it, re-orienting herself before activating the thrusters again and flying up.
She scanned the battlefield. Enemy fighters had engaged Corda’s forces in earnest, locked in aerial struggles around the vicinity of the Superius. Corda’s battleships, if the large non-military vessels could be called that, weren’t doing so well under the onslaught of the enemy’s firepower. The ship that had gone down in flames lay in a wreck on the thin edge of a deep canyon, with any crew that hadn’t reached the escape vessels definitely dead. Meanwhile, the remaining ships had taken a beating, and each bore laser scars and broken hulls. The second wave couldn’t come soon enough.
The Superius, meanwhile, was somehow still holding its own against greater numbers. The other Valk pilots had done a number on one of the cannons and some turrets, but the hull itself bore only scratch marks. What was the thing made of? This ship seemed more like a fortress than a war machine. As her eyes travelled across its length, she stopped and grinned. The hangar doors had been obliterated, leaving a gaping hole in their place. More fighters were pouring out, perhaps realizing they had nothing to lose now.
“Rhapsody!” Black swooped over to hover beside her. “That was the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Your point?” Marissa asked, indicating the opening.
“Still, the Commander would give me a thrashing for doing something so dangerous,” Black chided. “Though I think the Lieutenant-Commander would’ve been proud, so, good job.”
That compliment meant more to her than she’d expected. “Good to know. Now, how about we clear a landing zone for the rest of Inferno Company?” She checked under her arm to make sure the gun was still attached, then grabbed hold of its trigger.
Black lifted his own gun into firing position. “Sounds good to me.”
They spread their wings wide and shot towards the exposed hangar like a pair of torpedoes.