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  “And you bet that Armcore has some of the best navigational computers,” El drawled. But at least multiple jumps made the whole process of sifting and calculating the disturbed neutrinos and sub-atomic particles much more difficult.

  “Okay, take us to Gundaba Platform, Engineer,” he called.

  “What? Take a look outside your window, Captain! I thought you said that was where you wanted us to go first?” Irie sounded annoyed.

  Oh, no… Oh, no, don’t tell me you did… El did look out of the console window, and sure enough, he saw that the gas giant they had warped straight into the vicinity of was indeed the Gund System, and there, floating in its upper atmosphere, was a series of dark hexagonal, star-like platforms connected to each other to form something that looked vaguely like a micro-photograph of a snowflake.

  “I wanted to end up here, Irie, not arrive here!” he shouted, but he knew it couldn’t be helped.

  “Hey, if you’re not exact in your orders, Captain…” His engineer sounded like she was gearing up for an epic argument. An argument he didn’t have time for.

  “Okay, look—non-aligned space. Anywhere. Your choice,” El said, checking the scanners again. No Armcore arrivals. We might have time.

  “My choice?” Irie insisted.

  “Yes, your choice. Now please, for the love of all that is holy, just get us out of here…” the captain begged.

  “Fine. Jumping in three…two… Brace!”

  They jumped.

  7

  I Brought My Friends

  Whump. The jump, as always, sent the navigation systems haywire for a short period, with the display lights and signals that projected over the windows glaring and flashing as they sought out their current astronomical fix.

  But El didn’t need to wait for the computers to pick up telemetry from the nearest deep-space satellites. He could see perfectly well where they were, because the dark field of asteroids, dotted with the stars of habitation grids, was clearly visible across the top half of the window.

  Traders’ Belt.

  “Irie!” he bellowed. Of all the places you could have chosen, you chose here?

  “What? The coordinates were already plugged into the system!” she snapped on the other end of the line. “And it’s not like we can’t jump again, when we’ve cycled up, that is…”

  “When we’ve cycled up? Outstanding,” the captain muttered, before hitting the controls for the automatic pilot to take over and turning back to the hold. “Seeing as we’re here, you might as well get that woman off my boat!” he shouted. He was in no mood for passengers at the moment, and all of his previous good will toward this ‘Cassandra Milan’—if that was even her real name—had vanished.

  “She took out two of the Armcore attack-fighters, Captain.” Val’s words were heavy as he unclipped himself from his weapons seat and nodded to the other command chair, where the renegade archaeologist was currently sliding back her targeting visor and sitting up.

  “You were on the guns?” El spluttered, halfway between surprise and outrage.

  “We both were, Captain. Although the rail-guns can be controlled by one master gunner, they are best controlled by two,” the Duergar said. “That way, we can have independent targeting—two targets instead of one.”

  El just stared at him. “You don’t say.”

  “It’s fine.” Cassandra had already unclipped her harness and was standing up from her seat. “I’m good to go at the first opportunity.” She glared at the captain. “Just so long as you don’t intend me to swim over to Charylla, that is…”

  “I’m getting close to it,” El muttered, earning a disapproving glare from Val. “But no, of course not. The Mercury doesn’t have a second escape pod, so we’ll have to make a quick docking…”

  BWARP! Emergency alarms broke out from the cockpit, earning a shouted curse from the captain as he bounded back up the stairs.

  “What is it?” Val asked, lingering around his gun control seat just in case.

  El checked the sensors.

  Weapons lock detected. Multiple systems targeting the Mercury. The screen flared multiple small red circles over the nearest asteroids of the Traders’ Belt. “The traders have activated the defense grid against us!” El shouted. “I bet it was Hogan, that toad!”

  “They won’t fire on you, Captain,” Cassandra called up to him.

  How do you know? El cursed. The trader defense grid wasn’t particularly sophisticated by Armcore standards—it mostly consisted of missile batteries years out of date and the odd orbital laser—but the Trader Council had been adding to it for years and finally managed to link everything up to a centralized firing computer. That meant that it could fire an impressive amount of armaments over a short period of time if it wanted to, effectively creating a wall of fire and fury against any would-be attackers.

  And because I owe Hogan, he’s made us personal non grata over there…

  “You said that you owed them money, right? What sort of businessman kills the people that he wants money from?” Cassandra argued.

  She has a point, El thought grudgingly. Hogan wanted the Mercury, his Mercury. This was a bluff tactic, but even so… “Well, as much as I think you might be right, lady, I don’t think we’re going to be docking at Charylla anytime soon.”

  There was a disgruntled sound behind him from Cassandra, at the same time as an incoming message started bleeping from the console.

  Accept/Reject?

  “Irie? How are we doing on that warp cycling?” he called over the comms.

  “Just a little bit more, Captain…”

  Frack, frack, frack. El really didn’t want to be forced to talk to Trader Hogan right then. He did say that I had better come up with some money the next time he saw us. Which was now, and he still had nothing to show for himself apart from the stolen cargo. El thought about dumping it out of the nearest airlock and jumping anyway, but instantly knew that wouldn’t be a good idea. Not only would it prove to Trader Hogan that he had been lying, but it would also only be half of what he owed the dangerous thug. Hogan wasn’t the sort to compromise, and let bygones be bygones.

  No, Trader Hogan was the sort to make sure that you were hounded until the end of your days.

  Incoming message! Accept/Reject?

  “Oh, crap.” El sighed. “Cassandra? We have a change of plans, I’m afraid. We’re going to have to get out of here, and then you’ll have to hitch a ride and make your own way back to your superior on Charylla, you got that?”

  The woman was uncharacteristically silent for a long pause, until El turned his head for her confirmation. She had paled and looked worried.

  What is going on here? What is she involved in that she doesn’t want anyone else to know about? El thought. He was a career criminal. He could tell when someone was on the run, and he would bet his life that Cassandra was. He just wished that he didn’t have to bet his life right now.

  “It’s the only way, lady.”

  “Cassandra,” she said with a glare. “My name is Cassandra.”

  “Fine. Cassandra then. Now, if you’ll buckle up, then we’ll…”

  BWARP! More alarms from the console rig behind him. “In the star’s name, now what!?”

  Multiple warp jumps detected. Imminent ships arriving in this sector, the computer announced, just as El saw the flashes of warp light and the curious stretching and doubling over of space as one, then two…then many ships warped around Traders’ Belt.

  It was the Armcore Battle Cruiser, and this time, it brought friends.

  BWARP! BWARP! Weapons lock detected. Multiple systems targeting the Mercury.

  The cockpit had flushed a dangerous red with all of the alarm signals that the ship’s computer was giving off. Hanging in front of the Traders’ Belt, half-obscuring Charylla from view, was the upturned bow of the battle cruiser, as well as three Gorgon-class battleships. They were smaller and meaner than the cruiser, looking like a collection of flaring tubes, like some strange insect�
�with each spike ending in a gun port. If the battle cruiser was designed to deploy local attack-fighters against a planetary city, then the Gorgons were designed to conduct the campaigns in space. They were vicious and could move or fire in any direction.

  And why the heck have they brought them here, for me! El thought in alarm as he saw the larger cruiser once again start to release its attack-fighters like a cloud of angry wasps.

  But it wasn’t for him, was it? El turned on his heel and pointed his gloved finger at Cassandra. “You! You tell me just exactly what it is you stole from Armcore, now! Before I do decide to chuck you out of the airlock!”

  “I won’t allow that, Captain,” Val growled. “This human, as small as her physical body is, managed to save our lives twice now.”

  El groaned. When was his gunner going to understand the subtleties of intimidation? “Okay, I don’t mean I’m going to do it now,” he said, changing his statement as he ground his teeth.

  “Or ever, until the blood honor has been paid.” The Duergar nodded heavily.

  “Fine. Whatever you say, Val. I just need to know what it is that causes an entire Armcore battle group to violate the Traders’ non-aligned treaty!” El snapped.

  Cassandra had again grown as pale as a dust moon. “What do you mean? I haven’t stolen anything. I told you that I just saved my own academic work from Armcore’s hands…”

  “That’s a load of swamp-gas, and you know it,” El snapped. “I want to know, now.”

  BWARP! The alarms rang louder.

  “Well…” Cassandra took a deep breath, just as the first explosion rocked the Armcore battle group. The Traders’ Belt defense grid had been tripped, and as El turned back in horror, he saw that there were multiple flares of light and flames coming from the far side of the Armcore vessels. Several of the barely-emerged attack-fighters vanished in flames or broke off wings and body parts that spiraled into their neighbors, causing a chain-reaction of destruction.

  “You fools,” El breathed. It was fine for someone like him to fire back on Armcore, to defend themselves. We only have our own lives on the line, after all, he knew. But the Traders’ Belt? Now that they had killed even one Armcore officer, the entire territory would be considered an enemy, and the might of the Armcore military machine would bear down on them.

  Already, the battle cruiser was retaliating in kind, even as it started to turn with the shakes of the missiles pulverizing its sides. El saw a spear of boiling light leap from the snubbed ‘nose’ of the cruiser, concentrating on one of the nearest asteroid habitats for a long moment, before lines of red lava spread over the rock and the entire thing blew. A shockwave of plasma and gas swept back over them all, making the Armcore battle group bob in its swell and the Mercury to sway wildly. Clouds of molten rock, debris, and dust were thrown against their fellow asteroid worlds.

  Holy crap, El thought. He had never seen an orbital weapon at close range. He had never even been in a battle before, despite his training for it. He wasn’t ready for this level of extreme malice.

  “I’m getting us out of here.” He was already pulling the Mercury back and allowing the shockwave to carry them further away from the mess.

  But not fast enough.

  Incoming!

  The ship shuddered and shook once more as missiles impacted its hull.

  Defense analysis: class 3 intercept missile. Low payload. Damage? External.

  Defense analysis: class 2 intercept missile. Medium payload. Damage? Calculating...

  Most of the attack-fighters were now engaged in protecting the battle cruiser from the Traders’ Belt defense grid—not that it needed much protection, El thought—and also from the rising tide of trader ships. The non-aligned traders might not have dedicated warships, but there were plenty of mercenaries who called this place their home, the captain knew, and each and every one of them would have retro-fitted and hacked the most dangerous weapons they could afford into their crafts.

  The captain winced as he saw the expanding blue balloon of energy as some strange missile or bomb was fired at the Armcore cruiser, further rocking it on its side. A dozen more flashes of light and fire along its engines.

  But the Traders’ Belt versus an Armcore battle group? El didn’t know. He wouldn’t like to bet either way on it. Besides, he still had too much on his hands to think about, namely the three Gorgons racing toward him.

  “Hey,” El shouted, punching the boosters and swerving away from another small flock of intercept missiles. “What you said earlier… If Armcore wants whatever you got, then they won’t kill us until they got it, right?” He threw the Mercury into another barrel-roll.

  “Maybe.” Cassandra had already clipped herself back into the weapons’ control seat and was raising the joystick. “But they don’t need me for it. They can pick it up out of the debris of our blasted-apart ship.”

  Great. What a way to raise the spirits, El snarled inwardly. “Irie?”

  “It’s coming, Cap! All this booster use is draining the engine!” she said.

  “Well, I’m not about to sit here and wait!” El shouted. “New co-ordinates: 32Alpha, G-slash-Kappa 73.”

  “Where’s that?”

  “Just do it!” El reached for the boosters one more time, but his hand wavered over the lever. “Now, let’s see what I can do au naturalle…” he hissed, spinning the wheel before stopping it with machine precision.

  “Get some!” he heard the Duergar roar behind him and felt the reverberation through his feet as both Val and Cassandra’s rail-guns bombarded the nearest Gorgon with photon fire.

  The Mercury was flipping in a slow-motion curve as the two massive guns extended and retracted, belching white-gold, burning plasma through space. El saw the haze and crackle of fire as the photons exploded around the Gorgon in a shell of fire.

  “That thing must have an energy shield, frack!” El swore. Only a few ships could afford permanent energy shields—and only the bravest, too, as a permanent energy shield, whilst disrupting incoming laser fire, was like running a localized warp field at all times around your ship. There were stories of these ‘protected ships’ suddenly disappearing and parts of it reappearing in different parts of the galaxy, or of all internal computer systems going down.

  But even energy shields could be broken, if the barrage was strong enough. As the Mercury swung in an improbable arc around its nearest foe, he started to see the photon blasts burst over its spikes and struts, bending and breaking them with bursts of electricity and escaping gas. The Gorgon shook and tumbled, spinning away in retreat.

  “Did you see that! Did you see that!” El was whooping with joy. That was incredible. Whoever heard of an ex-racing vessel making a Gorgon-class Armcore battle ship turn tail and run?

  “Lead gun out!” Val called. “Manual reload!” The Duergar threw himself out of the chair and rolled across the hold, seizing the boxes of condensed plasma that he would have to load into the weapon port to get it juiced up again.

  “Second gun taking over,” Cassandra called, and continued to fire at the next Gorgon—but it was only barrage fire, designed to annoy and blind.

  “Captain! Jumping in three…two… Brace!”

  The world turned white and El swayed, feeling dizzy and nauseous all of a sudden, but also very, very happy.

  8

  The Merriman

  Whump.

  “Damage report!” El was shouting, even before his brain and his eyes had started to link up and believe that they were in normal space again. Behind him, he heard an accompanying groan from Cassandra, as the sudden jump took its toll on her psyche too.

  It’s not that jumping sends you mad, the captain groggily thought. But there was something intrinsically wrong about the whole process, and the mind could feel it. He had been forced to read a bunch of reports on it back at the academy. How it was unwise to jump too many times too quickly, how longer jumps increased the side effects, etc. The best explanation that he had read of the phenomena was that the
human body—any terrestrial body, in fact—knows. It is designed for regular three-dimensional space, regular relative time way below the speed of light. If you unexpectedly pick it up, ask it to break the laws of physics, and throw it across the galaxy, then it knows that it shouldn’t be there, and so it rebels.

  Well, it can rebel later, when I know that we’re alive. The captain shook his head. Behind him, there was a wearied thunk as Val kicked the last casket into the weapons loader. Even the massive Duergar looked groggy.

  “Hopefully, we won’t need that,” El called.

  “Is this just like the fact that the moon of Tritho Prime was supposed to be a simple mission?” Val gave the cannister another kick for good measure. The loading mechanism caught it and the mechanical doors whined shut. Further sounds of the clunk and grate of the rail-gun underneath being primed could be heard.

  “Where are we?” Cassandra asked, warily getting out of the weapons harness. “Aren’t you afraid of Armcore tracking our warp signature?”

  “Not here.” El nodded out the cockpit window, and Cassandra wobbled to the nearest porthole in the hull. Outside the ship was a sea of orange, greens, purples, and red clouds billowing up into constantly swirling forms.

  “Whoa,” Cassandra said.

  “The Bruno Nebula,” El said. “It’s small, but pretty volatile, chucking out lots of quantum signatures.”

  “Why didn’t you jump us here in the first place, then?” Cassandra said dryly, turning to give the captain her disconcerting stare.

  “Because it’s also the home of another person that our good captain has managed to annoy,” Val grumbled, coming to stare out of the porthole beside Cassandra.

  “Hey, it wasn’t my fault that Maximillus got the wrong end of the stick about that rose wine,” El pointed out quite emphatically.

  “Rose wine?” Cassandra frowned. “You mean the stuff they serve the Coalition Emperor? The stuff that is supposedly never allowed out of the council chambers of the noble houses?”