Rebel World

(The Eternal Frontier, Book 4)

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Anthony J Melchiorri

August, 2017

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Table of Contents

Title Page

Books by Anthony J Melchiorri

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

CHAPTER FORTY

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

Also by Anthony J Melchiorri

About the Author

Books by Anthony J Melchiorri

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The Tide Series

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The Tide (Book 1)

Breakwater (Book 2)

Salvage (Book 3)

Deadrise (Book 4)

Iron Wind (Book 5)

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The Eternal Frontier

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Eternal Frontier (Book 1)

Edge of War (Book 2)

Shattered Dawn (Book 3)

Rebel World (Book 4)

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Black Market DNA

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Enhancement (Book 1)

Malignant (Book 2)

Variant (Book 3)

Fatal Injection

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Other Books

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The God Organ

The Human Forged

Darkness Evolved

Rebel World (The Eternal Frontier, Book 4)

Copyright © 2017 by Anthony J. Melchiorri. All rights reserved.

First Edition: August 2017

http://AnthonyJMelchiorri.com

Cover Design: Illustration © Tom Edwards, TomEdwardsDesign.com

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

CHAPTER ONE

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Captain Tag Brewer traced his fingers over the polyglass of the cylindrical suspension chamber. It was warm to the touch. A throbbing yellow glow emanated from the chamber, like sunlight dancing across his skin. Inside, a human floated, naked and inert. Tubes coiled around the man’s body like overgrown mechanical vines, continuously pumping oxygen and nutrients in while removing carbon dioxide and waste.

“We’ll save you,” Tag said. He pulled his fingers away from the warm polyglass and then began walking down a row of similar chambers. Each was identical in construction, all containing people stolen from their lives and deposited into an alien ship.

“Where did the Collectors get all these people?” Lt. Sofia Vasquez asked, shadowing Tag.

“I’d love to know,” Tag said.

They paused near a woman’s chamber. She had the kind of wrinkles on her face that made it look like she’d spent her whole life smiling. Tag wondered if she would ever smile again. Hundreds of people just like these had been found on Dawn of Glory, the ship that Tag and his crew had stolen from a lone Collector colonizer named Ezekiel. The gigantic ship had been a factory of nanotechnology and murderous bots. They’d barely escaped alive.

The Collectors—or post-humans—were a strange breed. They were descended from humans who had genetically engineered themselves in a series of twisted experiments. These modifications were based on various species they had abducted and then conquered across the known universe.

Ezekiel, the lone Collector Tag had confronted and defeated, had said the post-human mission was to protect the human race by engineering their own superiority. Their appetite for rapid advancement had been sparked by an encounter with a strange and unexplainable alien race that had struck like lightning bolts in a human ship, the UNS Hope. The aliens had vanished along with a good portion of the crew. Nothing in human or other known alien technology could explain the way these aliens appeared out of nowhere and absconded just as quickly with their prey. Ezekiel had seemed to think it was just a matter of time before the strange, lightning-like aliens returned.

Tag didn’t know how much of what the blue-skinned Collector had said was true and how much had been the ravings of an unstable mind. Since Ezekiel had died during the fight against Tag and his crew, there was no one to ask. No one... except the comatose humans they’d rescued.

“To bring just one of them back to consciousness,” Tag said, his palm pressed against another chamber.

Sofia nodded, her brown eyes glinting with sadness. “We could learn so much. Where they came from, why they were taken. Maybe even who the Collectors are collaborating with in the SRE.”

Tag dragged his fingers across the polyglass, leaving faint smears. He was a goddamned medical scientist, a physician. He had created a half-synthetic, half-biological life-form, but he had no idea where to begin to revive these people.

Footsteps, coming swift and light, pattered amid the ranks of chambers in the vast medical ward. Coren jogged toward them with his lanky, extra-jointed limbs bending and flowing with each step. Underneath the black velveteen fur lining his snakelike face, he wore a serious expression.

Seriousness wasn’t unusual for Coren, who rarely laughed except when pointing out some inferiority in human technology, but after having worked alongside the Mechanic for as long as he had, Tag had begun to see the subtler signs of emotion on his face. Judging by the slight downward curl of Coren’s lips and the golden light pulsating out of his working eye, Coren was angry. Even his scarred white eye seemed to throb with a hint of malicious crimson.

“What’s got you so hot and bothered?” Sofia asked.

“No progress,” Coren said. “None of our researchers have discovered anything to revive the Drone-Mechs. Despite all the time we’ve been gone, all the deactivated Drone-Mechs are as unconscious as when we left them.”

A heavy weight settled in Tag’s gut. The Drone-Mechs had nanite antennae embedded within their brains—the tools the Collectors had used to control them from afar. The antennae had been disabled, but so had the Mechanics who’d been taken over by them. Where the Drone-Mechs had been zombies, mere husks of themselves under Collector control, they were now vegetables capable of only the most basic physiological functions. There seemed to be nothing left of the people they’d once been. Sofia stepped back, her eyes surveying the rows of humans they’d taken from the Dawn of Glory. Tag saw the question on her lips before she asked it.

“If they can’t bring back the Mechanics, I guess that means there isn’t much hope for these people, is there?” she asked.

“No, I am afraid not,” Coren said flatly. To the average human listener, the alien would have almost sounded bored. But Tag detected a twinge of regret, even remorse, that the Mechanics had failed to save their own people and those of the Solar Republic of Earth. Coren took a deep breath, his skinny chest expanding within his unisuit. “But I am confident we will solve this problem. This isn’t over yet.”

“We will find a way to bring them back and defeat the Collectors.” Tag wanted to feel as confident as he sounded. In truth, he wasn’t sure. The Collectors had the SRE, the Melarrey, and even the Mechanics beat in terms of technology. Not only had they mastered spreading nanites like a contagion among the Mechanic population, but Tag’s excursion through the Dawn of Glory had revealed their plans to infect humans as well. Not only would these nanites enslave Tag’s people just as they had done with the Mechanics, but they would impart permanent genetic changes to turn ordinary humans into Collectors.

Something churned in Tag’s stomach. It wasn’t just the thought of human-targeting nanites that made him uneasy. It was the knowledge that free humans, members of the SRE, were collaborating with the Collectors. They had seen Starinski Labs’ ships leaving the Dawn, and an earlier mission had nearly ended in disaster because of a double agent.

“We’ll find the collaborators and use them to track down the Collectors,” Tag said. “Maybe if we strike before they do, we can take them.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Sofia said, her brow knitted in worry.

“Whatever it takes, we’ll ensure no other species are reduced to this,” Coren said, waving his skinny fingers at the chambers full of nearly brain-dead people.

“That I can at least agree to,” Sofia said. She shivered. “I can still feel those nanites creeping through my skin...”

She let her words trail off. Tag had understood her completely. He remembered the way the particles swam through his veins like icy water while on the Dawn, making his limbs move of their own volition. His mind and his senses had still worked. He had borne witness as his body reacted at the command of the Collector who had imprisoned him. Every time his limbs had moved, he had felt like he was in a starship falling uncontrollably toward Earth. No matter what controls he hit, it was still going to crash. The dread, the uncanny movement, the helplessness—they still haunted him.

“We won’t let that happen again,” Tag said. Then, with an air of finality, he added, “Ever.”

“I’d rather die than let them control me,” Sofia said.

Coren nodded. “To bear silent witness to the atrocities your body commits with no say in the matter...it’s much better to be dead.”

“It makes me wonder,” Sofia said, staring at a woman in one of the chambers, “if they’re still in there, watching us, begging us to release them.”

“If there is a way to get them out, we’ll find it,” Tag vowed. He looked up. His eyes found the ceiling of the vast Mechanic medical ward, but his thoughts drifted upward beyond that, beyond the Mechanic city of Deep Origin and all the way to the stars. “There are answers up there somewhere.”

Sofia’s gaze followed his but soon returned to the people around them. Her eyebrows drew up in concern. “Are you sure these people will be safe here?”

“Of course,” Coren said. “Grand Elector L’ndrant said the medical attendants would maintain them just as they would any Mechanic.”

“It isn’t too much of a burden for them?” Tag asked.

Coren huffed. A slight Mechanic laugh. “No, not at all. Not compared to the burden of keeping alive all the Drone-Mechs we recovered. The humans are barely, to borrow one of your expressions, a drop in the bucket.”

The Mechanics’ word was as good as any legal contract. They would honor their promises to their own detriment.

They walked out of the medical ward and onto the street. It was filled with transport pods and pedestrian traffic flowing in a frenetic dance. Although it appeared to be midday, almost all the light bathing the vast city was artificial. Deep Origin was far enough underwater that little sunlight pierced the massive polyglass dome that protected the city from the crushing pressure of the ocean around it.

A shudder passed through Tag’s spine. “I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to walking around with an ocean a few cracks away from crushing me.”

“Yet you apparently have no problem sending us hurtling through space to fight aliens with god complexes,” Sofia said with a smirk.

Coren pretended to be outraged. “You don’t trust Mechanic engineering? It is, after all, far advanced—”

“—Compared to philistine human technology,” Sofia said. “You all are amazing gods of machines and computers.”

“Thank you for admitting it,” Coren said.

Tag grinned as they made their way toward the Mechanic Enclave’s government buildings complex. Even when faced with odds that would make a gambling addict think twice, his team shared a camaraderie that would make the coach of any professional Turbo team jealous. A warmth spread through his chest as he took the stairs up to the main hall of the Meck’ara National Gathering building. Soon he would have another meeting with the leader of the Mechanic Enclave—a one-on-one meeting, casual by Mechanic standards. He was going to beseech Grand Elector L’ndrant once more for aid to the SRE. Humans and Mechanics needed to stand united.

It was the only way they would survive against the Collectors.

The clatter of metal against stone drew his attention. Alpha was sprinting down the stairs toward them. Her countenance was as stoic as ever, given her droid chassis, but her words carried the weight of her worry.

“Captain,” she said, “the Mechanic Enclave council has just begun. They request your presence.”

Tag frowned. That wasn’t in the plans. L’ndrant had promised him a closed meeting without the council or their military advisors.

“When do they need me?” Tag asked.

“Immediately,” Alpha said.

CHAPTER TWO

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Tag jogged up the stairs to the Mechanic Enclave council’s meeting chamber, his crew following. The Mechanic soldiers on guard outside the chamber opened the anteroom doors. He walked through, but the soldiers blocked the rest of his crew, including Coren, from entering.

Tag looked at the Mechanic guard staring down at him. “My crew has every right to be here with me.”

“The council requests only your presence,” the Mechanic replied, his grip tightening around his pulse rifle. “No one else.”

“That’s fine,” Sofia said, stepping back. “We’ll wait out here. I’m sure you’ll do great.”

Tag looked at her. She nodded, but her eyes were troubled. Already, things weren’t going according to plan. His clacking footsteps echoed off the walls of the empty anteroom. Pillars carved to represent molecules integral to the Mechanics’ cellular structure, such as their helical version of genetic code, lined the path. Obsidian walls loomed over him as the thrum of voices beckoned him toward the council chamber.

Whatever meeting he’d been called to, it wasn’t the one L’ndrant had promised. Maybe the council wanted to know more about the Dawn of Glory. Or maybe, he thought hopefully, the Enclave had preemptively decided to offer aid to the SRE in tracking down the Collectors and their human collaborators.

He knocked on the door, and it opened automatically. Harsh light, riding on a wave of impassioned voices, spilled from the chamber. For the Mechanics, this signified something truly contentious was being discussed. Tag didn’t like it at all. The only thing he liked less was when the chamber went silent at his arrival and all faces turned toward him.

Accusatory stares lanced at him like a burst of pulsefire. It was as if he were a child who had just walked into an argument between his parents—and he was the cause. He searched for a familiar face. Grand Elector L’ndrant motioned at an empty seat, but she looked neither pleased nor angry to see him. The chair was built for a Mechanic’s physiology, so his feet were left to dangle centimeters from the ground, only emphasizing his feeling of being a kid who was about to be scolded.

“You all are familiar with Commander Tag Brewer, a member of the SRE navy and the captain of the SRES Argo,” L’ndrant said.

A chorus of mumbled assent tickled the air. L’ndrant waved her hand toward the ceiling. An image appeared of the sky—something piped in from a cam view above the water’s surface. Behind the scattering of white clouds, the gray face of a moon stared down at them. Beside it, nearly dwarfing the celestial body, was the Dawn of Glory in geosynchronous orbit, visible even with only the slight magnification provided by the cam on the surface of Meck’ara.

“We doubted you,” L’ndrant said, her eyes locking with Tag’s even as he felt others turn away, refusing to meet his gaze. “We underestimated the intelligence you gathered, but machines be damned, you turned out to be right. You found a post-human, and you took his ship. We owe you and your crew for everything we’ve learned about the post-humans and the nanites. While my colleagues may disagree, I am confident enough to say we wouldn’t be here without you.”

Her gaze fell harshly on the other Mechanics as she continued. “You’ve been open and honest with me and my people. You’ve brought us a tremendous gift. We will study the Dawn of Glory using every method at our disposal. If there is any intel that has been missed, anything you and your crew did not uncover, we will be sure to find it. And as per our agreement, we will share it with you. That much the Enclave has agreed to.”

“I take it you didn’t bring me here to confirm our agreement,” Tag said.

“Of course not,” L’ndrant said with an air of exasperation. “Apparently these walls are thinner than I remembered, and someone heard about our arranged meeting. The council was offended that we would choose to meet alone.”

Mechanics didn’t roll their eyes, but Tag almost expected L’ndrant to do so at that moment. Several of the representatives stood, their voices rising.

“Humans shouldn’t be trusted under these circumstances!”

“Any business of the Grand Elector is business of ours!”

“This is a matter in the interest of all Mechanics!”

Other such objections filled the air until L’ndrant raised a fist to silence them. “Your objections have already been heard and answered, so there is no need to act like a petulant swarm of Dreg in here.”

One of the representatives remained standing, and L’ndrant motioned for her to speak. She had streaks of fur missing, revealing scars left by grazing pulsefire. “Given the post-human and SRE’s shared origins, along with the knowledge that an unknown number of human collaborators are working with the post-humans, I move to eject all humans and human ships from Meck’ara effective immediately.”

Other Mechanics stood, seconding the motion.

The scarred Mechanic continued. “I am thankful for what this human has done for us, but for all we know, after coming in contact with the post-humans, he may be compromised as well.”

“I assure you I am not!” Tag said.

“I wouldn’t expect any other response,” the Mechanic said. “We saw what the nanites did to our people and how long it took us to find the cause of the Drone-Mechs. There’s no telling how the post-humans might have adapted the technology. Even if you’re acting of your own volition now, you might be a remote bomb, waiting to go off. You might not even know you have been compromised.”

“Agreed,” another Mechanic said as he stood. “As thankful as we are for his help, we cannot risk allowing a Drone-Human to exist on our planet. It is with my deepest regret that I recommend Tag Brewer and his crew be banished from Meck’ara space immediately.”

An elderly gray-furred Mechanic proved less kind, speaking out of turn and waving a finger at Tag. “Humans were the root cause of the Drone-Mechs. Humans are the enemy.”

L’ndrant’s golden eyes seemed to turn a shade of crimson. Now Tag could see why he had been brought to the council. For all intents and purposes, he was on trial. A ball of fire began burning in his chest, and he felt its heat spread to his cheeks. After everything he had done for the Mechanics, these vocal few wanted to banish him.

Another Mechanic stood. Tag recognized him as one of the soldiers from Bracken’s ship, the Stalwart. He had seen everything, from the Dawn to Ezekiel’s colonization engines, firsthand. “I have helped Captain Brewer fight the Drone-Mechs, Dreg, and post-humans alike. On my honor, I would stand beside him until the machines’ end.”

“Then so it shall be,” the wizened old Mechanic said. “Go, and leave this planet with him. Die when he betrays you.”

Tag stood. He was barely taller than the seated Mechanics. His fingers curled into fists, and his right arm trembled slightly. Taking a deep breath, he willed himself to sound calmer than he felt. “Whatever you want me to do to prove I am not—and never was—compromised by the Collectors, I’ll do it. I’ve brought you the Dawn. I helped you get this planet back from the Drone-Mechs. All I want is to stop the Collectors and their conquest over your people and mine.”

The elderly Mechanic huffed. Murmurs and whispers flitted through the council chamber.

“Look,” Tag said. “The Collectors will continue colonizing the galaxy. Meck’ara will not be spared when they return.”

More murmurs as L’ndrant held up a fist to maintain a semblance of control.

“I don’t care how good you think your technology is or how much new intel you might get from the Collectors,” Tag continued. “They’re a step ahead of us. A step ahead of you. Soon they’ll unleash everything they have on the SRE. I ask you, who is going to stop them? Do any of your trade partners have the military might to deal with a race who can build ships like the Dawn? Do any of the races who have fled Mechanic space have the technological acumen to combat the nanites alone?”

Tag let his words ride on the air for several moments, looking meaningfully at the Mechanics.

“My guess is the answer is no, or the Collectors wouldn’t still be out there,” Tag said. “The only chance we have is if we share information, if we work together and combine our research and military efforts to stop them. There can be no compromise in that regard, or there will be no victory. We might as well resign ourselves to the fact that we’ll all end up Drone-Mechs and Drone-Humans if we don’t start cooperating.”

A few Mechanics nodded along with Tag’s speech. Most appeared unaffected by it. Tag had to remind himself that was the way of Mechanics, and he shouldn’t expect them to show any outward signs of being swayed.

“I would side with the human,” L’ndrant said as Tag took his seat. “I think it would be prudent to do all we can to help the SRE root out any collaborators within their ranks. I am pained to admit that we desperately need assistance to bring back the former Drone-Mechs to full consciousness. Our brothers and sisters are lying dormant. Dead, as far as we know. It’s time for us to put arrogance aside and accept help from the SRE. We need theirs as much as they need ours.”

There was more rustling about and a fair share of discontented whispers among the Mechanics. To Tag’s surprise, no one else stood to speak. Maybe they had already argued themselves breathless before his arrival.

The elderly Mechanic stood. “I motion that we remove Captain Tag Brewer, his crew and ship, from Meck’ara space immediately. They are no longer to be provided protection on our planet or our space.” Others stood silent and tall at that, some glaring at Tag.

“The motion to end Captain Tag Brewer and his crew’s tenure on Meck’ara has been proposed and received standing support. A vote in the affirmative means we banish Captain Brewer and his vessels from our territory. A vote in the negative means we allow Captain Brewer to remain within our planet to continue diplomatic talks. Please, vote now.” The Mechanics buried their faces in their wrist terminals as each cast their vote. Most seemed to avoid Tag’s eyes as he searched the room, hoping for some clue to predict the outcome of the vote. Even if they did allow him to stay, after witnessing their animosity toward him, he wondered if he could actually get the Mechanics to agree to a full-fledged alliance with the SRE.

All the Mechanics turned from their wrist terminals to face L’ndrant as she walked to the front of the chamber.

L’ndrant looked directly at him as she announced, “With a vote of 26-24, the motion fails. Captain Tag Brewer and the SRES Argo are allowed safe haven in Meck’ara space.”

CHAPTER THREE

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The sound of mechanical grinding and screeching metal filled the cantina. A voice emitted a sound that gave Tag the distinct impression that someone was being tortured. Between the percussive beat of metal scraping against concrete, the faintest hint of a rhythm might have been discernible, if it weren’t for the pain thumping in Tag’s eardrums.

“You call this music?” Tag shouted, gesturing at the group of Mechanics on the stage.

“It’s a new wave movement,” Coren said, looking not the least bit unsettled by the unholy auditory assault. “It’s not exactly my preferred flavor, but this particular song is what you might call catchy.”

Alpha’s silver head bobbed along with the thumping and wailing. “I admit to finding this acoustic stimulation peculiar, but it does evoke a certain pleasantness. Coren, do you think the performers would mind if I record a sample of their music to play back later?”

“They might not mind,” Sofia said. “But I will. I’ll throw you off the damn ship if you start playing this shit on the Argo.”

“That makes two of us,” Sergeant Ryan “Bull” Buhlman said.

“If you think this is music, Alpha,” Tag said, “then all my synth-bio intelligence research was for nothing. Clearly I have failed.”

“I don’t know. I could get used to it,” Rebecca “Lonestar” Hudson said in her affected old-fashioned Texas accent. Beside her sat Marvin “Gorenado” Goreham and Fatima “Sumo” Kajimi. The marines had proposed going out for a drink in a local Mechanic establishment to simultaneously celebrate the fact that they and the rest of the Argo’s crew were still allowed on the planet—and to lament the equally true fact that they all felt more alone than ever after the contentious vote.

The odor of old-fashioned engine oil wafted all around Tag from cups that Coren insisted were filled with a Mechanic drink akin to beer. Tag was half-contemplating disciplining the marines simply for suggesting they try a place like this, but to his amazement, Lonestar knocked back her drink and then motioned the bartender bot for a refill.

“I’m quite impressed,” Coren said to her. “Based on all the—what do you call it?—bitching from the others, you seem to be taken with the C’reen Dahl. This is a locally synthesized brew, too, so you know it’s fresh.”

“Ah, yeah, you can just taste the freshness between the coughing and the urge to vomit,” Sofia said.

Lonestar chugged another glass with a wicked grin. “Please, my grandpop’s moonshine was stronger than this. He used to give me a taste of that when I was a baby. Got me to go to sleep like that.” She snapped a finger. “If I could grow up on that rocket fuel, I can handle a swig or two of this stuff. It’s as sweet as sweet tea.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say the captain somehow removed your taste buds during your stay in the regen chamber,” Sumo said. “Is she one of your experiments, Cap?”

“I take no responsibility,” Tag said, raising both hands in defense.

“I can vouch for the Captain,” Alpha said matter-of-factly. “He did not conduct any experiments when ensuring Lonestar’s healthy recovery in the regen chamber.” She sipped the C’reen Dahl drink. “Besides, I do find the flavor of this drink, though unusual, intriguing. It tickles the taste sensors.”

Gorenado’s brow folded into a gorge of wrinkles. “I thought you said Alpha was half human neuro cells and half computer. You sure you didn’t add any Mechanic cells by mistake?”

“I wish he had,” Coren said. “We could use some more intellectual talent around here.”

The crew traded jibes and jokes for a while. It was a distraction from the tasks ahead, between reconnecting with the SRES Montenegro strike group and attempting some kind of diplomatic resolution with the Mechanics, all while trying to figure out when the Collectors planned to launch an attack on Earth and how they managed to vacuum up so many human test subjects. When the Mechanic music finally stopped, Sofia lifted her hands in the air, thanking the gods. The banter of other bar patrons filled the void left by the purported musicians, and with no other alcoholic beverages available, the crew’s tentative sips of the C’reen Dahl turned into enthusiastic swigs.

Each drop on Tag’s tongue seemed to numb his senses to the point where he almost found the drink something slightly less than revolting. His mind simultaneously swam and sparked. He wasn’t drunk; that much he was sure of. But he also wasn’t sober. Instead the world seemed brighter. The obsidian walls of the Mechanics’ bar were lit up in an array of colors, as if every shade of black and gray had suddenly adopted its own unique and boisterous personality. A litany of voices arose, almost as if at once, in Tag’s mind. Most spoke of neuro-computational interfaces and the unexplored paradigms of stem cell differentiation under the direction of a pre-existing artificial intelligence-managed environment.

Sofia suddenly turned to him, her eyes dancing. “I feel like if I went back to Eta-Five, I could speak the Forinth language fluently. I’ve just thought of the perfect algorithm to determine the proper Forinth and native species population within the Forest of Light to maximize resource utilization while minimizing overall depletion.”

“Hey,” Lonestar said. “Y’all ever considered that there might be a more optimal way of charging the pulse rifles to increase their batteries’ lifespan?”

Now Tag could see why the Mechanics loved this drink. Whether their minds were really working in intellectual overdrive or not, it certainly felt that way. Leave it to the Mechanics to devise a drug that made you feel smarter.

Coren snorted with laughter.

“What’s so funny?” Tag asked.

“Whatever ideas you come up with, whatever formulas you invent,” he replied, “you should look at them tomorrow when you’re sober. I guarantee they aren’t half as ingenious as you think they are now. You’re all feeling the first-time C’reen Dahl high. Nothing more.”

Tag felt a hint of disappointment somewhere beyond the bright colors and brilliant ideas flowing through him. “Damn. Thought I really had a breakthrough. I can see why your people like this stuff so much.”

But as Tag surveyed the crew, he saw one member who didn’t seem so enlightened by the experience. Bull’s face was wrought in a grim scowl. The marine always seemed to be straddling some fine line between anger and no-bullshit seriousness, but now that look was coupled with one that looked to Tag something like existential angst.

Three hells, that was probably just the C’reen Dahl talking. Still...

Tag leaned in next to Bull. “Something on your mind?”

Bull shrugged noncommittally.

“Seriously, I’m all ears.”

Bull’s jaw worked for a second, like he was chewing on the words before he spoke. “I can’t help wondering if the goddamned xenos are right.”

Tag waited a moment for Bull to continue. When he didn’t, Tag said, “You’re going to have to explain.”

Lowering his voice, Bull continued. “Look, what if we were supposed to die? What if Admiral Doran knew about the collaborators? What if she helped dupe Lonestar and get that transponder planted on the Argo?”

“I can’t believe that,” Tag said. “The admiral seemed as shocked as everybody else by the Drone-Mech attack. If the whole fleet was working with the Collectors, why would they send those Drone-Mech ships to obliterate the Montenegro?”

“I don’t know,” Bull said. “Then again, I can’t explain half the things that have happened to us. Shit’s fucked, Captain. Shit’s fucked.” The marine looked up at Tag. Dark bags hung under his bloodshot eyes. “I can’t shake the feeling that me and the marines were thrown out like trash to die. We’re cannon fodder. Dispensable. Talentless.”

“Why do you say that?” Tag asked. “I’ve seen what you and your squad have done—fighting the Collectors’ regenerating bots and dealing with hordes of Drone-Mechs. Dispensable and talentless are not the words I’d use to describe any of you.”

Bull shook his head. “I sometimes forget you spent your career on a science vessel before all of this.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Tag said hesitantly. “But I don’t follow.”

“The marines you worked with were all on glorified guard duty. They had what we call the daisy patrol. Their jobs weren’t any more difficult or dangerous than walking through a park and picking flowers.” Bull held a hand to his chest. “Those of us in the defense and attack strike groups were trained and primed for combat. We’re supposed to be the most battle-hardened of the marines.”

“Supposed to be?”

“I’d never admit it to these guys, but we weren’t exactly the cream of the crop.”

“How do you figure?” Tag asked.

Bull hesitated, staring down into his mostly empty cup before signaling for another. “My next assignment was at the Fortico Marine Training Base on Luna.”

“From what I remember, only the best teach there. Sounds like an honor.”

“Yeah,” Bull said. “That might be true. But I wasn’t going to teach. I was going to be a goddamned admin somewhere. A wrist terminal button puncher. That’s where they shove those of us who can’t make it out here any longer. They can’t force us to retire, but they can bore us out of our minds until we quit.”

Tag was silent for a beat. “So you think the admiral believed you’d fail to protect us and was purposefully sabotaging our mission.”

“That about sums it up.”

“I can’t believe Admiral Doran would just set you or us up like that,” Tag said. “It’s crazy.”

“Think about it. Even after the Drone-Mech attack, she sent the Argo out alone.”

“Because every other ship in the strike group was barely operable. And besides, the Argo was sent out on its own originally. Captain Weber was supposed to complete his attack by himself. It was a covert op. That’s how these things work.”

Bull gave Tag a rueful look. Tag could see the argument behind the marine’s gaze. Neither had been involved in intel gathering or covert ops missions—at least not knowingly—before this. They were both in way over their heads. Tag wondered whether he was trying to convince Bull or himself as he pressed on.

“For the record, I don’t think Admiral Doran was lying or sending you all out as a sacrificial offering,” Tag said. “All the same, I don’t know who else we can trust in the SRE. We’re running low on allies, but we can’t just let humanity twist in the wind. We need to get out information to the right people.”

At first, Tag expected Bull to disagree. Instead, he said, “You’re right. I doubted you in the beginning, but you’re okay, Cap. Even when you don’t know what you’re doing, you damn well try to do the right thing. For all we know, the SRE is full of collaborators. But we do owe humanity the favor of knowing there’s a bunch of freaks out there looking to enslave ‘em all with nanites.”

Tag imagined his father in an Earth nursing home, completely unaware of everything that had transpired while his son had been traveling among the stars. How many other people would be unaware of the threat the Collectors posed until the day the post-humans decided Earth was finally ripe for the taking?

“Whatever the SRE decides to do, we owe it to humanity to do whatever we can to stop the Collectors,” Tag said.

“I’ll drink to that.”

Bull raised his glass, and Tag tapped it with his own. He gagged down another mouthful of the bitter concoction before setting the glass down. The screech of instruments warming up told him the Mechanic band was about to perform again. Soon their conversation would be lost in the mating calls of air cars and the pained screams of battlecruisers that passed for Mechanic music.

“Just got one more question for you, Cap,” Bull said. “Say the SRE is corrupt past the point of redemption. We’ll pretty well be screwed. Only allies we got are a few Melarrey ships and the Mechanics. But after almost being kicked off Meck’ara, you think we really stand a chance of getting their help?”

Tag took another sip of the C’reen Dahl. “I won’t take no for an answer.”

Bull smiled. It was almost unnerving on the marine’s usually grim face. “That’s what I like to hear.”

Tag opened his mouth to respond, but his words were lost in a storm of ear-grating, screeching metal. At first, he assumed the band had launched into the opening song of their next set. But a Mechanic near him jumped, her eyes wide and searching the room. Others threw themselves under tables and yelled in alarm. Coren knocked his stool back as his hand shot toward his holstered pulse pistol. Before Tag could ask Coren what was going on, the roar of alarms blasted through the city.

CHAPTER FOUR

––––––––

“Get to the Argo!” Tag bellowed.

He had no idea what was going on, but he’d rather face it in the ship than on foot. The crew joined him as he charged out of the bar. Transport pods whooshed around them, but soon even the pods’ automated paths were blocked by the roadways clotted by Mechanics rushing for safety. The undersea cities of the mechanics had been built with a network of shelters. They were designed to protect citizens in case the multi-layered polyglass bubbles keeping the water out became compromised.

Never in Mechanic history had a single bubble city failed.

Tag prayed to the gods that record would remain untarnished. He dodged a Mechanic running with two children under his arms, and another helping along one hobbled by age. With his wrist terminal, he called up his closest ally in the Mechanic Enclave outside Coren.

“Bracken,” Tag said. “What’s going on?”

Her face appeared on his screen. Behind her he saw a scene no less chaotic than the one he was experiencing. “We’ve got Drone-Mech ships incoming,” the captain said.

The grav wave generator at the Lacklon Institute was supposed to protect Meck’ara and its entire solar system from Drone-Mechs by blocking all signals to their nanite antennae. They shouldn’t have been able to so much as walk, much less launch an attack on the planet.

“What? How?”

“We aren’t sure yet. The Grand Elector has ordered all ships to report in. I’m taking the Stalwart up.”

“Count us in,” Tag said, before signing off.

The darkness of simulated night in the city had already been broken by the glare of emergency lights, but something from above glared even brighter. A flash of blood red, followed by a streak of orange and brilliant blue. Tag’s heart beat faster than a ship booming into hyperspace. He recognized those lights.

“A ship’s just been destroyed!” Sumo cried out.

Drone-Mech or free Mechanic, Tag couldn’t say. The explosion had been much too close to Deep Origin for Tag’s comfort. The resulting shockwaves tore through the surrounding water, marked by a plume of white bubbles that slammed against the outer dome. The whole city shook. Glass shattered somewhere near them, raining down like miniature knives. Screams filled the artificial night.

“Come on,” he yelled. “We’ve got to help!”

They ran for the Argo, churned on by the panic of the crowd and another booming explosion overhead. The ground trembled, knocking Tag off his feet. He stumbled, catching himself with his hands, and pain radiated through his bones before the surging adrenaline masked it. He heard more shrieks and the boom of another smaller explosion bursting from a building nearby. Smoke and debris filled the air in a rolling cloud that rumbled toward Tag and his crew.

As the dust settled, Tag looked up to see the first spiderweb of cracks spreading across the outer layer of the polyglass dome.

“No,” Coren said. “By the machines, no.”

More brilliant flashes of orange and blue and red streaked through the water. Soon those were lost as the crew barreled into the ship bay. Nearby, Mechanic crewmen streamed to their own ships, and the steady blast of impellers warmed the air around the bay as ship after ship took off to join the ongoing battle.

The gleaming curves of the Argo appeared before them, and Tag’s vision became tunneled as he focused on the ship. He sprinted into the waiting maw of the cargo bay. His crew didn’t need any commands to know exactly what to do. While the marines split off to their crash couches below deck, Tag led the bridge crew up the ladders and to their positions. He jumped into the captain’s station.

There was a yowl, and a sudden, sharp pain in his backside.

“Damn it, Lucky!” Tag yelled at the six-legged, catlike creature in his crash couch, her favorite resting spot when he wasn’t around. “Go to your cage.”

The Rizzar looked up at him with green eyes, round and wide like she was begging to stay and help them.

“Go on!”

She slunk away, smart enough to understand he meant business, and Tag settled into his seat. His fingers danced across his terminal as Sofia engaged manual control of the Argo and Alpha initiated power flow to the engines. Coren had all the weapons charging and ready to go before Tag even gave the command for them to lift off.

“Energy shields are at one hundred percent, and all impellers are online,” Alpha said.

“Sofia, take her up!” Tag commanded.

The roar of the impellers shook through the bulkhead as the Argo rocketed up toward the first open port. An enormous crash sounded behind them as the first lock closed. Water filled the massive chamber, equalizing the pressure. Another hatch released them into the ocean.

“All shields up!” Tag roared. “Contacts?”

“Searching, Captain,” Alpha reported.

A holomap appeared in the middle of the bridge as she scanned the waters around them. Tag didn’t need the Argo’s computer system or the holo to know they had just injected themselves into the middle of a chaotic battle. Husks of broken Mechanic ships drifted toward the seafloor, joining those already resting amid the sand and rock like long-abandoned shipwrecks. Bubbles streamed from some, and jets of plasma glowed from others. Tag’s stomach lurched as he recognized debris floating through carnage that didn’t belong to the ships: Mechanic bodies.

“Any survivors?” Tag asked.

Several other Mechanic ships popped out of the Deep Origin seaport, joining the Argo amid the wreckage.

“I am not able to detect any viable signals,” Alpha said.

Something stabbed deep within Tag’s gut, twisting painfully. So many lives lost in such a short time. How had this happened?

“Are these Drone-Mechs or free Mechanics?” Tag asked as Sofia took the Argo around a battlecruiser that had been split open like a skull broken by a club.

“All signs point toward free Mechanics,” Alpha replied. “The insignia match those of free Mechanic ships docked within Deep Origin.”

“Then where are the Drone-Mechs?” Tag asked. “Patch me through to Bracken.”

A moment later, Bracken appeared on his holoscreen. “We need you at the surface,” she said without preamble.

“You got contacts there?”

“You could say that,” Bracken said.

Tag looked at Sofia. “Let’s get up there.”

Sofia pulled the controls back, and inertia tugged at Tag’s body as the Argo rocketed upward until the dampeners kicked in. The deep indigo and black of the oceanic depths gave way to a cerulean glow as they neared the surface. Then, with a cascading explosion of frothy water, they burst into the air. Amid a swarm of green specks on their holomap representing the free Mechanic ships, a storm of crimson dots was moving at speeds much faster than what Tag would have expected for an invasion of warships.

“We’ve got incoming missiles,” Bracken reported over the comms. “We’re getting reports that this is happening all over the planet. Someone is going after all the surviving free Mechanic cities. Target and destroy whatever you can.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Tag said. “Coren?”

Coren fired off a screen of chaff. The point defense cannons boomed to life in a staccato rhythm, sending ropes of pearly orange fire into the air to meet the incoming ordnance. Pulsefire lanced from the Mechanic ships all around them, surging up in relentless volleys. A few sites along the planet’s surface launched counter-missiles. The plume of smoke and the glare of missiles and torpedoes might have been mistaken for a meteor shower.

Somewhere above them, Tag saw the blink of lights from the defensive satellites orbiting the planet. Just as quickly, several of the corresponding dots on the holomap winked out, disappearing as if they’d never existed.

This wasn’t an attack. It was a massacre.

A host of Mechanic ships floated above a coastal city, forming a wall of alloy and guns. Though dozens of missiles and torpedoes disappeared into a black mist above them, many still plunged through the hail of defensive fire.

“Oh no,” Sofia murmured, even as she maneuvered the Argo.

One of the Mechanic corvettes blasted toward an incoming missile, all guns blazing. But though its weapons never hit the missile, the ship itself did. Chunks of melted alloy and tendrils of smoke exploded from the resulting ball of fire like shrapnel from a grenade. The concussive force of the blast buffeted the Argo, and Tag saw Sofia visibly struggle to keep their ship righted. Now Tag understood why he had seen all that wreckage in the sea. While the Mechanics were doing everything in their power to stop the attack before it reached cities full of hapless civilians, sometimes even their technology couldn’t compete against the onslaught. The best they could do was throw their own ships against the incoming ordnance in a suicidal last-ditch effort. “The machine remembers,” Coren said as what was left of the brave crew disappeared into the sea.

Once again, Mechanic pragmatism prevailed. Better to sacrifice one ship with a crew of dozens then let an entire city perish, especially as the civilization was struggling to rebuild itself from the ashes of what the Drone-Mechs had left behind. But Tag’s thoughts couldn’t linger long on the Mechanics who had just sacrificed their lives. Above him and his crew came a dark shroud of incoming missiles. Desperate Mechanic ships raced underneath the volley, firing back in bursts.

Morbid thoughts flashed through Tag’s mind as Coren fired the PDC cannons. How long could the Mechanics hold this defense? If they failed, if Meck’ara was destroyed, then one of his only allies would be lost forever. Without the Mechanics, Tag feared the fight against the Collectors would be lost before it began.

He tried to push those thoughts out of his mind. The smoke trails of the incoming missiles expanded in the viewscreen. A layer of sweat formed along Tag’s back as he watched the Mechanic gunner at work. There had to be something more he could do to help.

“Alpha, activate all shields,” Tag said.

“Aye, Captain,” Alpha said coolly.

She primed the energy shields. A haze of green crackled over the viewscreen before turning invisible as the shields stabilized. Tag prayed to all the gods that they wouldn’t need the shields. He didn’t want the Argo to end up just another wreck on the ocean floor. Despite their best efforts and those of their Mechanic compatriots, the rain of missiles was still falling. It seemed for every missile or torpedo they eliminated, another two entered the atmosphere.

“Whoever planned this attack has done so with mathematical precision,” Alpha remarked. “The missiles are spaced almost perfectly. Dense enough to overwhelm, but at the same time far enough apart to avoid collateral explosions when one is knocked out.”

“Thanks,” Sofia said. “That makes me feel much better.”

Alpha shot Tag a bemused expression, clearly confused by Sofia’s sarcasm.

Tag shook his head. “I’ll explain the concept of a smartass later, Alpha. Just focus on keeping our shields hot.”

“Yes sir, Captain.”

“Cap, anything we can do?” Bull asked over the comms. “We’re getting a little tired of watching the fireworks.”

“Pray, if you believe any of the gods are listening, or call in some reinforcements I don’t know about.”

“Afraid I can’t do much about either,” Bull said.

Tag eyed the incoming missiles. PDC fire sprayed upward along with the spreadshots from the pulse cannon. A curtain of chaff glittered, reflecting both the sunlight and the explosions as missiles connected with their targets. More puffs of smoke and fire bloomed in the distance. Tag barely had time to watch the Mechanic ships flanking the Argo adjust their own defensive measures in response to the incoming salvo.

“Come on, come on,” Coren said, hunching over his terminal. His fingers continued their swift dance, every move calculated within milliseconds, far faster than any human could react.

And still it wasn’t enough. Some of the red dots on the holomap vanished, but others continued their approach, closing the distance between themselves and Deep Origin. If just one of those missiles scored a direct hit, the entirety of the free Mechanics’ freshly reorganized government would vanish. All Tag’s closest Mechanic allies would disappear in a violent blast of plasma and radiation before being swallowed by the waiting ocean.

I can’t let that happen, he thought. Regardless of what the Mechanics thought of him and his crew, regardless of how many members of the council had voted to exile him just hours before, humanity desperately needed an ally in the war with the Collectors, and the Mechanics might be the only goddamned civilization with the capability to fulfill that role.

And of course, there was the matter of species-wide genocide on his mind. He couldn’t bear to see the Mechanics wiped out like this, whether they believed he was on their side or not.

Alarms suddenly blared across the deck, and crimson emergency lights flashed their violent glare. One of the missiles had separated from the pack. Coren readjusted his fire to target it, then launched a bevy of the Argo’s own torpedoes in a desperate effort to intercept. The missile had plummeted past several of the Mechanic ships, narrowly missing one and skimming the energy shields of another. Now the only thing standing between it and the dome protecting Deep Origin was the Argo.

Tag took a precious second to consider the irony. If a handful of the council had voted differently that morning, Tag wouldn’t be here to issue the order that would doom his crew but save Deep Origin. The ultimate sacrifice to protect the future of Meck’ara.

The future of mankind.

“Sofia,” Tag said. “Whatever happens, do not let that missile hit Deep Origin.”

CHAPTER FIVE

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“There are some kind of jamming signals preventing the computer from auto-locking onto the target,” Coren said as he tried to take out the missile with more PDC fire.

“Alpha, can you work around it?” Tag asked.

“I will make an attempt,” she said.

The column of black smoke trailing the missile drew a straight line toward the Argo.

“I am finding it difficult to decode the interfering signals,” Alpha said in her usual droid-calm tone despite the imminent danger they faced. “However, they do appear similar to signals previously intercepted from the Drone-Mechs.”

“Damn it,” Tag said.

So far, they hadn’t actually seen any Drone-Mech ships, but Tag guessed the enslaved fleets were probing the boundaries created by the grav-wave generator on Meck’ara. The sheer number of warheads careening toward the planet made Tag wonder just how many Drone-Mechs still lurked out there, doing the Collectors’ bidding. Certainly, it was no trivial number.

A violent flash of light interrupted Tag’s thoughts, followed by a resounding boom. The groans of bulkheads resonated throughout the bridge, and for a moment, the viewscreen gave way to a blizzard of static. As soon as the viewscreen recovered, it showed a cloud of spreading smoke and vapor from the rapid expansion of heated gases. Coren actually hooted in triumph. “Little close for comfort,” Sofia said. “With your Mechanic prowess, shouldn’t you have been able to take out the missiles faster than that?”

“If someone could hold the ship steady for a bit, maybe I could,” he said.

“Everyone okay down there?” Tag called over the comms to the marines.

“Might need some fresh pants,” Lonestar drawled.

“We’re still in the air, right?” Sumo asked.

“Still flying and”—Tag looked at Alpha giving him a metallic thumbs-up—“and all systems are functional. Hold tight.”

Another missile was headed toward the Argo. It was just a few hundred klicks away.

“Take it out,” Tag commanded.

Both Coren and the Mechanic ship fired on the missile, but they were either too late or their aim was off. For a moment, nothing changed as the missile stabbed into the ship. Then both disappeared in a spray of slagged alloy and rolling fire. The concussive force of the blast slammed the Argo, once again knocking out the viewscreen. Tag could practically feel the heat wave roll over them until the Argo settled.

Once it did, alarms bleated. At first Tag feared something—the shields, the weapons systems, the T-drive—had been knocked out by the explosion. Blinking out of his disorientation, he saw it was a proximity warning. Focused on helping the Mechanic ship, they had missed a new threat coming straight for them.

“Coren!” Tag yelled.

The Mechanic immediately swiveled his aim, nearly standing from his crash couch as he sought to bring down the missile spiraling erratically toward them. It was too close. Even if Coren managed to hit it, the ship would still be caught in the blast. But if they dropped too low before taking out the threat, they’d run the risk of fracturing Deep Origin’s dome. There would be no escaping damage now—it was just a matter of minimizing it.

“Sofia, keep us under that missile. But, you know, not too close,” Tag said.

“Yeah, I got it,” she replied. “Suicide mission is a go.”

“Alpha, calculate how long we have until that missile is in range of the city,” Tag said.

“We have approximately twenty seconds,” was her prompt, dispassionate reply.

They plummeted faster, now accelerating at a stomach-flipping pace. Coren’s countermeasures lit up the sky. It reminded Tag of one of the first times he had engaged in direct combat with Drone-Mechs. Back then his crew had been able to knock out a bevy of incoming torpedoes. It hadn’t been easy, but they’d countered dozens of warheads in the time that it was taking to eliminate just one now.

With a jab of his fingers, Coren launched several counter-missiles from the Argo. They barreled away from the ship in a direct-intercept trajectory with the offending ordnance. One went wide as their target adjusted its own course. Another two were shredded by some kind of chaff hurled from the incoming Drone-Mech weapon.

“By the Machines,” Coren said. “These aren’t anything like normal Mechanic warheads. It’s fighting back!”

Tag knew he was right. Before, when they had faced Drone-Mechs, the enslaved aliens had been equipped only with weapons and ships developed by the Mechanics. But Tag feared the Collectors were behind these latest developments. Undoubtedly, they had merged weapons tech from one of the other species they had enslaved or destroyed. He would bet his life that this explanation accounted for the jamming signals, countermeasures, and apparent AI capabilities of the incoming missiles.

In fact, it seemed like betting his life was exactly what he had to do.

The last counter-missile launched from the Argo detonated harmlessly far from the Drone-Mech warhead. Then water exploded upward around the ship. There was no sky left; only ocean. Spirals of bubbles careened past them, and the Argo shuddered as it slammed against the drifting wreckage of downed ships.

“Captain, we’re seconds from reaching critical distance to Deep Origin,” Alpha said.

Once before, when they had encountered a stubborn batch of missiles and their weapon systems had failed, they had flashed the energy shields to simultaneously destroy the warhead and absorb the explosive aftermath. They hadn’t come away from the encounter unscathed, but at least they had come away alive.

“Alpha, remember how we escaped that attack on Eta-Five?” Tag asked.

“Yes, Captain.”

“Do that. Now.”

The major difference between then and now was the missile coming at them was far stronger than the one they had faced before. There wasn’t enough time to calculate whether he’d just saved or damned his crew. A blinding flash of green light burst around them as Alpha overloaded the energy shields. The resulting heat and noise of the exploding warhead hit Tag like a physical blow. Everything seemed to go red, then black. There was no time for pain or worry.

All Tag felt was an intense and relentless nothingness.

CHAPTER SIX

––––––––

Tag wondered if this was what death was like. No touch or sight or sound. He felt as though he had been imprisoned in his mind with no idea how much time was passing, whether it had been milliseconds or hours since he and the Argo had succumbed to that blast.

A coppery taste danced across his tongue. Blood.

The odor of burning plastic wafted through his nostrils, and he could feel a strange coolness pooling around him. Slowly his senses seemed to be coming online, like a computer rebooting itself after a long slumber. He forced his eyes open. Red lights flashed across the deck, and the piercing wail of klaxons stabbed into his eardrums. He slammed a fist onto his terminal to silence them. The motion left his arm feeling like a hundred needles were stabbing his flesh until his EVA suit’s painkillers kicked in.

A pool of water was forming at the bases of his crews’ crash couches. There had been a hull breach. Undoubtedly a massive one.

“Coren! Sofia! Alpha!” he called. “Are you okay?”

“Gods be damned,” Sofia managed to say as she sat up from her station. “My head.”

“We...we’re alive,” Coren murmured. “That is unexpected.”

“The ship’s systems have detected a hull breach, Captain,” Alpha reported. “Previously repaired sites of damage have been compromised.”

“Bull,” Tag called. “Are you all okay down there?”

“Okay? Maybe not. But we’re alive.”

The viewscreen at the front of the bridge was shattered. The panels that still worked showed the darkness of oceanic water around them, no sea creatures in sight. For their sake, Tag hoped they had been too frightened by the commotion to investigate. Wreckage drifted past. At first Tag feared those were pieces of the Argo’s innards until he saw a Mechanic corvette sinking past them.

“Can we rejoin the fight?” Tag asked.

“My arms still work, and all but one of the impellers seems okay,” Sofia said.

“Pulse cannon is down,” Coren said. “PDCs are stable.”

“Energy shields will need time to recharge,” Alpha said.

“Then let’s get back to it,” Tag said.

They rose from the ocean, lurching slightly without the aid of the nonfunctional impeller. All across the sky, the fireworks of incoming missiles and countermeasures continued, maintaining a heated rhythm of explosions both near and distant. And though the battle against their unseen foes still raged, he saw fewer contacts on the holomap. Maybe, just maybe, the salvos of missiles and torpedoes were dwindling. Maybe an end was in sight.

Something burned into the atmosphere. This time Tag could clearly see it was too large to be another missile. It fractured, leaving a wake of smaller pieces careening toward the planet’s surface. Another space station had been wrecked and was breaking apart as it tore through Meck’ara’s atmosphere.

Most of Meck’ara’s planetary defenses had been shredded, but when Tag looked up, he saw one object still in orbit. The Dawn of Glory was unharmed, hanging in the sky like a second moon above Meck’ara.

Tag realized what had sparked the violent attack on the planet. It wasn’t the fact that Meck’ara had been retaken by the free Mechanics. The Collectors likely couldn’t care less about them as long as they weren’t causing trouble.

No, they wanted their ship back.

By the gods, what have I done?

He had thought he had been handing the Mechanics a tremendous victory by bringing the Dawn back to Meck’ara. He may have unwittingly led to their destruction by drawing the Collectors there instead.

“Sofia, we need to get to the Dawn,” Tag said.

“Captain?” she asked.

“Now.”

They blasted past the ranks of Mechanics still desperately fending off the missile salvos. Pulsefire and other countermeasures seared the air around them. The soft blue of the sky gave way to the darkness of star-studded space. More crimson specks sparked across their holomap, indicating another wave of long-range missiles.

It was all a distraction.

At least, that’s what Tag hoped. Otherwise he would look like the worst of deserters, abandoning the Mechanics in this crucial moment.

“Everyone down there keep your EVA suits on,” Tag said. “We’re leaving the atmosphere.”

With the hull breached, the water still sloshing around the deck began boiling away in the vacuum of space. Autonomous repair bots had begun repairs, but the damage they had sustained still meant the ship couldn’t maintain proper atmospheric controls. A few of the viewscreen panels still fizzled on and off, crackling in black and white static. The others showed the expanse of space opening before them. At the center was the hulking mass of the Dawn of Glory.

Earlier that day, it had been surrounded by a host of Mechanic repair and science ships, along with several battlecruisers. Now only a few green dots showing friendly, viable vessels appeared on the holomap. The vessels those dots belonged to were streaming plasma and venting gases into space. Remnants of other ships floated around the Dawn like so much space-bound flotsam. “Mechanic Enclave Dawn Escort group, this is Captain Tag Brewer of the SRES Argo. Do you read?”

Tag waited several silent moments.

“Dawn Escort group, Captain Tag Brewer,” he tried again. “Do you read?”

Again, they were met with nothing but silence.

“Maybe they were all destroyed by the incoming missiles,” Sofia offered. She sounded like she didn’t believe it.

“I calculate the probability of the escort group being destroyed while the Dawn remained undamaged to be exceedingly low,” Alpha said.

“There must be another explanation,” Tag said. “No hostile contacts?”

“That is correct, Captain.”

“This isn’t right,” Coren said. “This isn’t right at all. Those missiles are clearly beyond Mechanic technology, but I doubt they could take out the entire escort without leaving a scratch on the Dawn.”

“I agree with Coren’s assessment,” Alpha said.

“Then let’s bring her in closer,” Tag said, gesturing to Sofia.

Sofia pushed the controls so they drifted nearer to the Dawn. Tag scanned the vessel, looking for any sign of something odd. All the heightened senses he had developed as a medical doctor to search for subtle clues of what might be wrong with a patient went into overdrive. In medicine, the first, simplest explanation was often the right one.

“The Drone-Mechs—three hells, maybe the Collectors—sent in a ship,” Tag said. “They want the Dawn back.”

“I’m not seeing anything on the holomap or the viewscreen,” Sofia said.

“They must still be here,” Tag replied. “They wouldn’t leave without the Dawn.”

His mind whirred back to when the Argo had first been attacked. Their aggressors had come out of nowhere, slipping past all of their sensors. It had taken them completely unaware.

“A stealth ship,” Tag said. “We’re looking for a stealth ship.”

“So we’re looking for something that can’t be seen,” Sofia said. “Great. That’ll be easy.”

“I am heightening the sensitivity of all our lidar and radar sensors,” Alpha said, “but I am still not detecting any new hostiles.”

“Knowing how advanced the Collectors are, I doubt we will detect them,” Coren said. “Not until they knock us out of the sky.”

Tag knew he was right. And it might be only a matter of time before whatever ship destroyed the Mechanics would reveal itself, blasting the already-injured Argo back into Meck’ara’s atmosphere. He peered into the darkness, searching for something he knew his eyes would never be able to see.

But it had to be here.

Had to.

The Collectors wouldn’t abandon the Dawn now. They wanted the ship back, and the best way to steal it would be to board the damn thing and fly the Dawn straight out of here. That was what he had done to get the Dawn here in the first place.

“Remember where the ship bay is on this thing?” Tag asked Sofia.

She nodded and pushed the controls forward, launching the Argo around the Dawn. They soon found themselves in the shadow of the giant ship.

“Still not reading anything?” Tag asked Alpha.

“Negative, Captain,” she said.

Tag searched the damaged viewscreens for any sign of movement near the ship bay.

“Maintain energy shields,” he said. “I don’t want to go down like those Mechanics.”

Surely if there was a stealth ship here, they had already noticed the Argo. With hull breaches leaking heat, they would be easily identified on all spectrums of lidar and radar. Maybe the stealth ship didn’t judge them to be much of a threat, or the infiltration crew figured they were about to succeed anyway and weren’t bothering to fire.

Tag would prove them wrong on both counts.

“Captain!” Alpha said, her eyes on a magnified view of the ship bay. “I’ve identified movement.”

The ship bay hatch began shuddering open, dilating to allow something in. Then he saw it.

“There!” Tag said, pointing at the viewscreen. A slight shimmer in the darkness. “That’s got to be our target.”

“Open fire?” Coren asked.

Thinking better of it, Tag held up a hand. “Hold on. Maybe I’ve got this wrong. This might be one of L’ndrant’s covert groups protecting the Dawn.”

“Doubtful,” Sofia said.

“I know,” Tag replied. “But we’re already in hot water with the Mechanics. Imagine if we opened fire on one of their ships.”

“Unknown ship boarding the Dawn, please identify yourselves.” Tag sent the message over all communication bands. When, as expected, he received no response, he tried again.

This time, he got an answer. Lancing blasts of pulsefire shredded the space between the stealth ship and the Argo, crackling against their energy shields.

“Shields are at six percent, Captain!” Alpha declared.

“Evasive maneuvers!” Tag yelled.

Sofia pulled the Argo away as another volley of fire careened toward them, nearly finishing the job. The ship was still invisible, their cloaks holding even under the intense energy output of their cannons.

But merely firing was enough to confirm their position.

“Coren,” Tag said. “Return fire!”

The Argo lashed out with Gauss and pulse cannons, following the time-honored strategy of spraying and praying. Tag didn’t worry too much about stray rounds cutting into the Dawn. It would be like a handful of pebbles being thrown at a boulder. A few lucky shots slammed into the stealth ship’s energy shields. The shields sparked with green lightning, outlining the shape of the ship, and Coren intensified his fire.

A charged pulse shot from the stealth ship exploded toward the Argo. Judging by the brilliant intensity of the blast, it would take the whole damn ship out, shields and all, leaving nothing but slag. Sofia reacted in time so the shot grazed the energy shields, but the impact was enough to send the Argo careening sideways.

“Shields are gone, Captain,” Alpha said.

Through the viewscreen, Tag saw the glow of another charging pulse cannon as it readied itself to unleash a follow-up attack.

“It’s up to you now, Sofia,” Tag said. “Remind me why you’re the best pilot in the galaxy.”

Coren battered the stealth ship with kinetic slugs. If the ship was taking damage, it was impossible to tell. The damn cloaking technology was near perfect, undoubtedly another piece of tech the Collectors had stolen.

“Incoming!” Alpha said, her robotic voice rising in pitch.

The stealth ship unleashed its devastating pulseshot. It exploded with a ferocity that would make a supernova jealous.

CHAPTER SEVEN

––––––––

The Argo jerked right, and Tag thrashed in his crash couch. One of the repair bots that had been working on the hull was flung away, spinning into space. The beam of pulsefire burned through the viewscreen and tried to scorch Tag’s retinas.

But it didn’t hit the ship.

“Come on, Coren,” Sofia said. “I can’t do this all day!”

“It’s not exactly easy to hit an invisible ship, but you’re welcome to give it a try,” he snapped back.

Sweat slicked Tag’s palms inside his gloves. Sofia jockeyed the Argo, dodging the stealth ship’s blasts, and Alpha toiled over her terminal to bring the energy shields back online. They continued to trade volleys with the stealth ship. At least, Tag figured, as long as the ship was engaged with them, it couldn’t unload its crew into the Dawn to retake the Collector ship.

Tag gestured over his terminal to bring up a channel. “Bracken, do you read?”

Bracken’s helmeted visage appeared on his holoscreen. “Yes, I’m here. We’ve got reports that at least ten cities have been destroyed. The fleet’s taking heavy losses. Where are you?”

“At the Dawn,” Tag said. “The Collectors are trying to get the Dawn back. We’re engaged with a stealth ship right now. Could use some help.”

“Machines be damned,” Bracken said. “Things are still tense down here. I’m not sure we’ve ships to spare, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“Copy,” Tag said. He tapped on his terminal once again, calling Jaroon. The bulbous jellyfish-like alien replied promptly.

“Hello, Captain Brewer,” he said cheerfully.

“The Melarrey are always up for a fight, right? We could use some help up here.”

“I’m afraid my crew is defending one of the continental Mechanic cities,” Jaroon said. “The remaining Mechanic defensive forces have been wiped out. We’re all that’s left.”

“Damn.” Tag gritted his teeth as Sofia took the Argo into a wild dive to avoid the stealth ship’s fire. “If it lets up, you know where to find me.”

“Understood,” Jaroon said. The channel went dark.

“We’re on our own,” Tag said.

“Fine,” Sofia said, jerking the controls left, then right. “I think I’m getting better at this dance.”

A sudden hiss of blue plasma jetted from the stealth ship, marking its position clearly. Coren took advantage of the moment and blasted away at the spot. Emerald lightning coursed around the silhouette of the ship and then flickered out. Coren didn’t let up, firing more kinetic slugs at the enemy ship, and the cloaking abilities abruptly failed. The ship stood in stark nakedness before them. It was riddled with holes, and a few singe marks now showed where pulsefire had scorched its hull.

But underneath the scars of the ongoing battle, Tag recognized the ship. He had seen it before when they had first discovered the Dawn. This particular ship, despite the hundreds of other ships that had been there that day, was forever ingrained in his memory.

It was human.

“Shit,” Sofia said.

“Yeah,” Tag said. “That’s the Starinski prototype ship Sumo identified. The New Blood.”

“Didn’t know the human collaborators were that involved with the Collectors’ mission,” Coren said, still firing. “To come out here in our space and try to take this thing...awfully brazen.”

“Sofia, take us in closer,” Tag said. “Let’s finish them off.”

“You got it,” she said, leaning forward in her crash couch.

The Argo lurched toward the Starinski ship with cannons blazing. Round after round punched into the stealth ship’s hull.

“What are they doing?” Sofia asked. “Why are they just sitting there?”

More plasma jetted from a wound in the New Blood’s starboard side. A few of its cannons were out of commission, melted by Coren’s fire. “Probably deciding whether to continue their mission,” Tag said.

As he spoke, the ship lunged toward them. It rocketed away from the Dawn before disappearing in a flash of light as it jumped into hyperspace.

“Alpha, make sure we have full records of this encounter,” Tag said. “We’re going to need to share this with the Mechanics and the SRE.” Then he had another thought. “We still have our data connection to the Dawn, right?”

“Affirmative, Captain,” Alpha said.

“Any life-forms detected aboard?”

“Yes,” Alpha said. “But all contacts are accounted for. I am tracking the survivors of the Mechanics’ research team and Dawn marine garrison.”

“Good,” Tag said. “Send them the footage of what just happened along with a warning to be on the lookout. Still need to confirm the New Blood didn’t leave anyone behind.”

“Captain,” Alpha said. “It appears that they did leave something behind.” She motioned over her terminal, and an image on the viewscreen expanded.

“Oh gods,” Sofia said. “Please don’t tell me that is what I think it is.”

“Sensors detect gamma ray emission suggesting a nuclear explosive,” Alpha said. “There appears to be a timing device on it.”

“Tell the Mechanics aboard the Dawn to evacuate,” Tag said. He debated whether they should board the Dawn themselves. How long did they have before the bomb exploded? Minutes? Seconds? With a heavy weight filling his stomach, he looked at Sofia. “Take us away.”

He watched the Dawn grow smaller in the viewscreen. Every second they spent running away from it could’ve been a second they used to disable the bomb or help the crew. Had he misjudged the timing? Would they have been able to help?

A blast of blinding light answered his question. When the brilliance had faded, the Dawn was listing to one side. The wreckage of the ship bay appeared onscreen when Tag waved a hand over his terminal. Chunks of scaffolding stuck out like the ribs of a dead leviathan. Tag wondered if the self-repairing nanomaterial could repair the damage the New Blood had inflicted. It was bad, but not unsalvageable. They could still recover the Dawn and the skeleton crew aboard her.

A second explosion rocked the Dawn. Long fingers of blue plasma pierced the hull like the rays of a rising sun. Then a blinding white burst encompassed the massive vessel. In the vacuum of space, no sound or concussive force followed, but Tag could’ve sworn he felt the resulting blast.

“Sofia, get us out of here!” Tag yelled. “Coren, watch for shrapnel!”

Fragments of the destroyed ship blasted past them. Alpha had managed to get the shields up to partial strength, and Coren sent out a screen of chaff to help intercept the debris pinging against the Argo. The Dawn was gone.

“I guess if they couldn’t get it back,” Sofia said, “they didn’t want anyone else to have it.”

“This is not good for our research,” Coren said. “Not good at all.”

“I estimate this will set back our progress in identifying the location of the Collectors by at least a year,” Alpha added.

“I estimate you are right,” Tag said. “Good gods.”

More contacts blinked on their holomap. This time, they were green. Friendlies.

“Arriving a little late to the party, guys,” Sofia said.

“Captain, one of the vessels is hailing us,” Alpha said.

“Patch them through.”

A Mechanic appeared on Tag’s holoscreen, her expression hidden by her orange visor. Bracken. “Captain Brewer, what did you do to the Dawn?”

***

It had taken Tag far too long to convince the first Mechanic captain that he and his crew did not single-handedly blow up the Dawn. The rain of missiles had stopped shortly after the Dawn was destroyed, and several more Mechanic ships came to investigate the wreckage. The footage of the New Blood engaging in open combat with them before jumping into hyperspace convinced the Mechanics to at least let him return to Deep Origin. He had to go through the whole story again with L’ndrant, and although she didn’t have him hauled off to the stockade, she had warned him not to leave Meck’ara until the council had a chance to review the footage he had provided. The Argo needed repairs before she was space-worthy again, and Tag planned to lay low with his ship until L’ndrant cleared him to leave.

Later that evening, after he had retreated to his quarters, his wrist terminal lit up with an encrypted, private messaging request from someone within the Mechanic Enclave.

“This is Tag Brewer,” he said, accepting the message. He leaned back in his seat. He’d been replaying the footage of the New Blood over and over, hoping to see who had been piloting the ship. If humans had been at the helm, then his worst fears about collaborators would be confirmed. But without some kind of enhanced X-ray vision, he was almost certain it would be impossible to tell for sure.

“Brewer,” a garbled voice came over the line. It vaguely reminded Tag of holo-dramas where a kidnapper obscured their voice when calling in with a ransom demand. “We need to meet.”

“Who is this?”

“It is absolutely crucial we meet alone tonight.”

“Seriously, who is this?”

“Brewer, your fate is at stake right now. Meet at 2300 hours.”

Tag waited a beat, unsure whether to take the voice seriously. Finally, he asked. “Where?”

“A favorite resting spot.”

The transmission ended with no further explanation.

Tag’s brow furrowed. He stared at the paused image of the New Blood floating in holo form above his desk. A favorite resting spot? Gods be damned. He looked at his bed. No, certainly the caller hadn’t meant his cabin.

But then where was he supposed to go?

He racked his mind, his fingernails drumming the surface of the desk. Then it came to him. Ever since they had landed on Meck’ara, he had moved his exercise routine outdoors, or at least what counted as the outdoors in the bubble city. The park nearest the ship bay where the Argo had been docked was his favorite spot to run. One path, which had become his favorite, led to a small pond with a waterfall no more than a couple meters tall. Resting in the simulated atmosphere’s warmth and soothed by the gurgle of the waterfall, he had taken many a break there to meditate, contemplating the greater purpose of his mission against the Collectors.

He’d always thought he was alone in the secluded haven.

But he must’ve been wrong, and now he was about to find out who had been secretly following him on Meck’ara.

CHAPTER EIGHT

––––––––

Tag slipped out of the Argo. While it was technically 2130 hours in the bubble city, Mechanic port workers crawled over the bay like ants. With almost two-thirds of their population dead, caught in a nanite-induced coma, or still enslaved as Drone-Mechs, there was no such thing as closing time anymore.

No stranger to late nights himself, Tag hoped his emergence from the Argo wouldn’t draw any scrutinizing eyes. Most of the Mechanics around here had seen him at all hours of the day, including sleepless nights, when a run was the only remedy for clearing his mind. He started at a steady pace on his usual route toward the park, trusting that his running attire would declare his intentions to anyone who glanced his way.

Overhead the buzz of air cars drew his attention. White-hot sparks glared at the top of the dome where Mechanics were reinforcing scaffolding and damaged polyglass plates. While foot traffic was reduced in the darkened city streets, there were still enough pedestrians to make Tag weave and juke along the walkways until he reached the shadowy woods bordering the park. 

Tag sucked in a breath of sweet air. The park had a musky scent not unlike that of a native Earth pine forest, with a slightly cloying undercurrent to it. He felt his muscles and limbs loosen as he jogged. His breathing fell into a comfortable rhythm. It would be a good half-hour until he made it to the pond. He trusted Mechanic security, but all the same, he had told Alpha, Bull, Coren, and Sofia where he was heading. They would have the air car ready to pick him up should something untoward happen. Bull had insisted that he and the marines come along, but Tag figured that might be too suspicious on the eve after the missile attack and fall of the Dawn. Besides, if he really was walking into an ambush, he guessed they would also be ready to handle a few marines.

He fell into a near-hypnosis for a while, letting his body move almost on autopilot, until the crack of something hard against a rock sounded behind him.

Probably just in your head, Tag thought.

He continued on for a minute or so more.

Another crack. This time it sounded like a twig breaking underfoot. He swiveled on his heel and gazed into the darkness. At first, he was ready to write it off as paranoia again. But then he heard the rustle of leaves to his left, soft as a wind brushing through the trees. Only there was no breeze.

Tag sped up. Maybe whoever was meeting him was making sure he had come alone and unarmed. Regardless of how he tried to justify it, the mere thought that he was being followed spooked him. He picked up his pace. Before him was a bend in the path. There was a thicket of trees just ahead surrounding a boulder large enough to conceal him.

With a sudden surge in speed, he made the corner and slid to a sudden stop. He tried to stay quiet as he heard the patter of whoever had been following him accelerate to catch up.

Something didn’t sound right about those footsteps.

Instead of the steady beat of two feet pounding the path, it sounded like something was galloping toward him with four—three hells, maybe more—feet. Suddenly, green eyes appeared before him. His pursuer hissed.

“Lucky,” Tag said, willing his heart to still. “Damn it, girl. What are you doing?”

She let out her half purr, half growl as she slunk between his legs, winding up against him until he scratched her behind her scaly ears.

“You shouldn’t be out here.”

With one ear cocked, she looked up at him as if to tell him that he shouldn’t, either.

“I’m supposed to be meeting someone. Alone.”

She let out a huff that told him what she thought of that plan, blinking at him with those green eyes.

“Fine,” Tag said. “But try to stay hidden.”

The Rizzar was stubborn but undeniably protective. Smarter than the average cat or dog, too. Tag was relieved to have backup, even if it took the form of a six-legged feline creature. It wasn’t long before Tag reached the pond. He slowed to a walk and looked about for something suspicious. Seeing nothing, he sat on a stone bench near the pond. Beneath the gurgle of the small waterfall, he listened for footsteps or rustling. Maybe even the whir of a drone.

Long after he had recovered his breath from the run, he finally heard the soft tap of feet along the path. It sounded like someone who was simply out for a stroll with no particular urgency or desire to hide their approach. His muscles tensed as he reached for his wrist terminal, all the while trying to appear relaxed.

Soon, a form appeared at the end of the path, silhouetted by the meager light reflecting off the pond. The figure waved, approaching Tag. He offered a wave in return.

“Right on time,” a familiar voice said. Her face emerged in the simulated moonlight. Shadows accentuated her patchy fur and wrinkled skin, making her appear older than usual.

“Grand Elector,” Tag said, standing. “You came here alone?”

“Of course,” she said. “And despite my request, you did not.”

“I didn’t bring any of the crew.”

“No, but you did bring that creature of yours.”

Warmth crept into his cheeks. “That wasn’t my idea. She snuck after me. How’d you know she was out there?”

“You know what I did before I was a politician?”

“No,” Tag said, shifting uneasily as he stood before the leader of the Mechanics. He realized there was actually precious little he knew about her.

“I had an illustrious career with the military. Started off in a Planetary Ops division recon unit. Sneaking around unfamiliar places was my specialty. So tracking you and your Rizzar through this park is like asking a Mechanic to solve a quadratic equation.”

“Fair enough,” Tag said, bemused by the Grand Elector’s metaphor. “Still, I’m surprised that you’re walking the park alone at night. Don’t you have security?”

There was a subtle twitch at the corner of her lips. She sat on the bench overlooking the pond. “That would be correct. I shirked my personal entourage of ass-kissing sycophants and bodyguards.”

“They’ll be searching for you, won’t they?”

“They will,” she said. “But it isn’t unusual for me to disappear. We play this game from time to time, just to keep my skill sharp. That won’t stop them from trying to locate me, though, so we don’t have much time.”

“Okay,” Tag said, taking a seat beside her. The hoot and whistle of imported fauna echoed over the pond. “Why all the secrecy?”

“I’m worried there may be a coup.”

“Blunt,” Tag said. “Does that have anything to do with the Drone-Mechs?”

“No. At least, not in the way either of us would’ve expected.”

“You didn’t tell me about this on the Argo. Worried people are listening in?”

“I don’t have hard evidence, but like I said—I was in recon. I’m trained to be careful and pay attention. Those lessons translate well into politics.”

“I’m thoroughly intrigued now. Why do you think there’s going to be a coup?”

“My adversaries want me arrested for treason. I don’t know yet whether the courts will side with me or not. There will also be a warrant for you and your crew.”

Tag gulped. L’ndrant didn’t have to tell him that the Mechanic courts would not look favorably on his crew of outsiders. “Why us?”

She gestured toward the dome and beyond it where the Dawn had been. “You zoom away in the middle of an attack, right when the Argo would be most helpful here. Then you’re up there, alone, with a destroyed Mechanic fleet, and the Dawn explodes while our people are working on it. None of the ships had records of the New Blood, besides yours.”

“Of course they didn’t,” Tag said. “It was a stealth ship.”

“I believe you. As does Bracken and many of the others on my council. But unfortunately, the old guard tends to be skeptical to the point of utter cynicism.”

“The ones interested in a coup?”

“The same. Their hypothesis, best I can gather, is that you fabricated the Starinski footage. Or you actually conspired with the New Blood, which is how they got away.”

“I realize I’m preaching to the choir when I say none of that is true,” Tag said.

L’ndrant nodded. “There are people on this planet who are not grateful for you and your crew’s service. I don’t agree with them. I have something for you, a sign of the commitment I want us to make to the SRE and to you, Captain Tag Brewer.”

From her unisuit, L’ndrant withdrew a device only slightly larger than Tag’s hand. It was a flat obsidian rectangle, cool to the touch.

“What’s this?” Tag said, taking it.

“Our communications research at Lacklon included the devices to make grav wave comms a reality. A few of these prototype devices were spared when you helped us retake the institute. I want you to have one.”

“I appreciate it,” Tag said.

“I’m sure you do, but it’s more than a token of gratitude. Not just some silly medal like you humans seem to like giving out. This actually works.”

Tag studied it, flipping the flat device over. “Is this going to give us some kind of back-channel communications line?”

“You catch on quickly,” L’ndrant said. “Are you sure you’ve never worked covert ops? But yes, you can use that to call me.” She brandished a second grav wave comm panel. “And likewise, I’ll be able to communicate with you. I’m not certain this will be one hundred percent reliable. It is a prototype, after all.”

“Trust me. As a scientist, I’m used to it.”

“Good. All the same, this is new enough technology that my own people shouldn’t be able to intercept our messages. At least, not for a while.”

“Understood,” Tag said.

“In the days ahead, you may call on me for help. I will do what I can, but I suspect that I’ll have my hands full with the insurrection. I know Bracken has quite enjoyed serving beside you, though she may be reluctant to admit it. You helped us get our planet back and free our people. There are others in our fleet who will not soon forget what the little human ship with the ragtag crew accomplished. You are not alone, Captain.”

“I would say it was my pleasure, but that would be a lie. All the same, I would do it again. The Collectors need to be stopped.”

L’ndrant made a show of checking her wrist terminal. “I should be heading back. And you should be heading out.”

“I wonder,” Tag said, frowning. “Do you know if there will be any outgoing shipments of supplies from Deep Origin?”

She gave that subtle twitch of the lips Tag had come to recognize as a Mechanic smile. “In fact, I have ordered an emergency resupply to the nearby city of Progress. I believe they are scheduled to depart the ship bay at 0600 hours. That should give someone wanting to leave at the same time ample opportunity to get their affairs in order, shouldn’t it?”

“I should think so,” Tag said, stretching his muscles for the run back to the Argo. “Thank you, Grand Elector.”

“Thank you, Captain. Now off with you and your Rizzar.”

Tag nodded as he jogged toward the return path to the ship bay.

“As your people say,” L’ndrant said, “Godspeed and good luck.”

CHAPTER NINE

––––––––

The crew assembled in the mess for Tag to debrief them on everything L’ndrant told him. Bull looked pissed off—in other words, no different than usual. Coren wore a stoic expression to match Alpha’s, while Sofia looked rather sullen. Gorenado, Lonestar, and Sumo fluctuated between dismay and anger.

“Any questions?” Tag asked when he was finished.

“What about the Melarrey?” Sofia asked.

“I struggled with that one,” Tag said. “On one hand, I hate to leave them behind when they’ve shown themselves to be powerful allies. On the other, I don’t want them entangled with the suspicions cast in our direction. Not to mention bringing them along with us would mean the last Melarrey in the universe would be exposed to extreme danger. I’m not sure risking their extinction is worth it.”

“Aren’t we risking our own extinction by going it alone?” Bull asked.

“I want to say that’s not the case, but you’re right, of course,” Tag said. “We’re risking humanity’s extinction by staying on Meck’ara, though, not to mention getting arrested. Bringing the Melarrey might help us escape Meck’ara. And to be honest, as much aid as they’ve provided, I don’t think they can do much if the Mechanic fleet catches wind of what we’re about to do.”

Bull crossed his massive arms over his chest but said nothing.

Tag clapped his hands together. “All right then, that is it. We’ve got a few hours to get this thing in shape for a hyperspace jump straight to the Montenegro. Dismissed.”

The crew dispersed to their stations, securing all the loose tools they’d been using to repair the ship.

Following Alpha up to the bridge, Tag asked, “How’s the hull integrity?”

“Reports indicate it will withstand hyperspace travel. We should be able to complete repairs once we make the jump.”

“And the shields?”

“We are likely to be reduced to fifty percent or less shield efficiency,” Alpha said. “I could reassign the repair bots working on the hull to the shields, but then there is no guarantee we would finish hull repairs in time for transitioning into normal space near the Montenegro. Would you like me to do that?”

Lacking full energy shields when jumping into a potentially dangerous situation was never a good idea. But cracks in the hull were worse, and if the whole of the Montenegro strike group had already been compromised by the Collectors, energy shields would be of little use whether at fifty or a hundred percent efficiency.

“No, focus on the hull first,” Tag said. “Start calculating hyperspace trajectories, too. I don’t want to waste any time once we’re out of Deep Origin. It won’t take long for the Mechanics to come after us.”

The hours until the emergency resupply ships were scheduled to leave the ship bay melted away. Soon Tag found himself in the captain’s station once again, secured in his crash couch with his EVA suit snug around his body. On the damaged viewscreen, he watched a few Mechanic transport ships hover above the deck, their grav impellers glowing in a soft blue.

“Wait until my mark to initiate engines,” Tag said.

A half-dozen more transport ships lifted into the sky. Each ship was ten times as large as the Argo, which would make hiding within their formation easier. The groan of metal announced the largest hatch of the ship bay opening. Slowly, the transport ships rose to meet it.

“Wait for it,” Tag said as Alpha’s fingers hovered near her terminal. Sofia already had a tight grip on the controls.

Tag eyed the idle battlecruisers and other warships docked around the bay. There was no reason to send a military escort for a short intraplanetary resupply mission. But all the same, Tag was nervous. Getting away from transport ships with minimal armaments wasn’t an easy task; getting away from a Mechanic ship equipped to take down dreadnaughts hundreds of times the size of the Argo was more difficult.

The first transport ship entered the transition chamber. More drifted upward to join it.

“Not yet,” Tag said. “Not yet.”

A resounding roar shook the bay. The pneumatic pumps of the transition chamber were preparing to fill the space with water. Once the process had been started, it was difficult to reverse. Tag just needed to make sure they entered the waterlock at the point of no return. Three more transport ships lumbered through the port into the intermediary bay.

“Now!”

Alpha initiated the engines, and the impellers thrummed to life with a growl. Sofia pulled the controls back and launched them toward the nearest transport ships. They squeezed into a space between two of the lumbering crafts, concealing them from the workers in the ship bay and, Tag hoped, making them almost indistinguishable on sensor arrays. Using the ship’s outboard cams, Tag scanned the deck below.

Come on, Tag thought, nothing to see here.

He waited with bated breath until they made it into the intermediary chamber. The hatch behind them spiraled shut, and water exploded inward around them. Soon Sofia was jockeying with the controls to keep them from being smashed by the transports as the enormous waves rocked the ships.

“Alpha, any sign of Mechanic forces?” Tag asked.

“I have seen no evidence yet,” Alpha said. “However, I am intercepting communications from the ship bay inquiring to the Argo’s role in transporting the emergency resupplies.”

“Well, that’s good,” Sofia said. “They at least think we’re going to help them or something.”

“One of the port authority officials has just said our ship has made an unauthorized exit,” Alpha said.

“Okay, it was good while it lasted,” Sofia said.

The hatch to the ocean opened.

“Sofia, full ahead,” Tag said. “Before the jig is up.”

“Your word is my command, Skipper,” Sofia said.

She threw the throttle forward, and the Argo left the transport ships behind. They burst out of the water in an eruption of white mist. Tag watched to see if the Mechanics had sent anyone to pursue them yet. Nothing showed up on the holomap. The transport ships emerged like surfacing whales, shedding sheets of water as they slowly lifted into the air. But none of them broke off to follow the Argo.

“Incoming weapon locks,” Coren said with casual coolness.

“Alpha, we got contacts?” Tag asked.

“No,” she replied. “I believe the weapon locks are coming from the transports.”

An incoming comm transmission request appeared on his terminal’s holoscreen. He swiped at the terminal, ignoring the hail.

“Those we can easily outrun,” Tag said. “Coren, keep countermeasures hot. Alpha, warm what shields we have. Don’t flip them on yet. We don’t want to make it look like we’re prepping for a fight.”

“Yes, Captain,” Alpha replied.

Another incoming comm request bleated across Tag’s screen, and again he ignored it.

“Straight up, Sofia,” Tag said. “We just need enough distance to make the jump. Alpha, you got trajectories ready?”

“The T-drive is spooled and ready for initiation at your command.”

“Excellent.” Tag ignored a third comm request. The viewscreen began to darken as they pushed out of the atmosphere and into space. “Almost there!”

“Incoming fire!” Alpha announced.

Coren swiveled the PDCs, and the thump of the cannons echoed through the bridge. Ropes of depleted uranium rounds glowed through the sky, connecting with a pair of missiles launched by one of the transports. The missiles exploded in a cloud of black and orange, tongues of fire licking up throughout the atmosphere.

Another comm request blinked on Tag’s terminal.

“Looks like they were trying to get our attention,” he said. “But I don’t really feel like talking right now.”

Behind them, Meck’ara shrank to a blue-and-green marble. Gray chunks of the Dawn, as well as the husks of Mechanic defensive satellites, stations, and fleet craft floated around them. Then the twin glares of bright-blue impellers rocketing toward them caught Tag’s attention.

“Captain,” Alpha said, “unknown vessels are moving in on an intercept course.”

“Just the two of them?” he asked.

More bright-blue glares appeared across the viewscreen. A cloud of dots burst to life on the holomap at the center of bridge.

“Spoke too soon, Skipper,” Sofia said.

“Plan doesn’t change,” Tag said. “Sofia, get us out of here.”

“More than happy to.”

The Argo began a spiraling, erratic course out of the debris field, winding in and out of clouds of wires and slagged bulkheads, twisted cannons, and impellers attached to semi-functional fusion engines still burning in lazy circles.

“I never would have thought I’d say this,” Coren said, “but I’m glad the planetary defensive networks are down. If we had to contend with those, I don’t think we would stand a chance of escape.”

“Happy to have your confidence,” Sofia said as she guided the Argo around a slowly rotating chunk of a battlecruiser.

Once again, a comm request chimed on Tag’s console. “Alpha, how much longer before we can make a safe jump?”

“At this rate, ten seconds.”

“Good.” Tag swiped the request away.

As soon as he did, a storm of new contacts appeared on the bridge holomap. Warning alarms barked around them, announcing the incoming ordnance as if they hadn’t already seen the gale headed their direction.

“Countermeasures?” Coren asked.

“Let’s not waste them,” Tag replied. “Alpha, ready?”

“Ready in five, four, three”—the torpedoes glared brighter across the viewscreen—“two, one.”

“Initiate!” Tag said.

CHAPTER TEN

––––––––

The sudden grip of acceleration clutched at Tag’s insides, and his fingers tightened around the armrests of his crash couch. As the inertial dampeners gave his guts a chance to rest, the debris fields around Meck’ara gave way. It was replaced by gentle waves of plasma that lapped over the Argo like a breeze over a field of grass. Occasional crackles of green and purple sprinkled across the viewscreen, and Tag let out a long exhale.

Safe in hyperspace.

He tapped a button on his terminal to initiate the ship-wide speakers. “Congratulations. You are all now officially fugitives of the Mechanic Enclave.”

“Better to be fugitives than prisoners, I always say,” Coren said.

“You always say that?” Sofia said, undoing the restraints to her crash couch. “You’ve never struck me as much of a lawbreaker.”

Coren stood and stretched his lanky arms. “I will have you know that I once skipped a day of training back in engineering school.”

Sofia raised an eyebrow. “A whole day?”

“Okay, a single class.”

“A whole class?”

“I was late.”

Sofia laughed. “That’s more like the Coren I know.”

“Breaking the rules is wrong,” Alpha said. “Were there not repercussions?”

“There was a fair amount of shame when the professor called on me by name and I couldn’t produce an answer to his question because I wasn’t around to hear it.”

“Shame is an adequate punishment for tardiness?” Alpha asked.

“Let’s find out,” Tag said. “I want everyone to meet in the mess in one hour. Don’t be late.”

An hour wasn’t enough time to steal a nap, but it gave him a chance to clean up and grab a coffee from the autoserv bay in the mess. The shower momentarily fooled him into forgetting that he had gone the previous night without sleep. But when the warmth of the water had disappeared and the bleariness in his eyes returned, his exhaustion was not so easily neglected. Now the cup of hot coffee in his hands did barely more than prop up the weight hanging on his eyelids.

Coren and Alpha sauntered in first with Lucky trailing them. The Rizzar popped into a seat next to Tag, laying her head on his shoulder. He scratched between her ears, and she mewled like a kitten then curled up on the seat. Her eyes closed, and her breath went in and out in the slow rhythm of sleep.

Sofia was the next to join them, followed by the marines. The squad had a habit of showing up to prearranged meetings just before they started. Tag found it interesting. In the science field, he was used to two types of people: those who were consistently ten minutes early to meetings, and those who were consistently ten minutes late. He had met all manners of scientist, ranging from extroverted geniuses who ran successful companies to introverted number-crunchers with offices filled with dog-eared papers and dusty data cubes. But he’d never met anyone who always made it to a meeting right on time.

“I admire your punctuality,” Tag said to Bull. “Never too early, never late.”

“Wasted time can’t be recovered,” Bull said. “Something they drilled into us during training. If you’re early, you could’ve been cleaning your gun or getting another rep in on the weights. If you’re late, well goddamn it, you missed the meeting.”

“Pragmatic,” Coren said.

“Meetings are one thing,” Tag said. “I’m just hoping we can make it to the Montenegro in time. Let’s talk big picture first. Everyone is on strict orders to remain absolutely silent about anything and everything about our recent adventures. Don’t tell them what we’ve done, where we’ve been, and what we’ve seen when we reach the strike group. The only person we’ll be speaking to is Admiral Doran. That’s it. I don’t want word to spread about the Collectors, their technology, or their colonization attempts. Nothing.”

“My lips are sealed,” Sofia said.

Alpha’s head tilted. “They appear to be fully intact and functional. Why would you say that?”

“Human expression,” Sofia said, their oft-repeated explanation.

“What if another officer questions us?” Sumo asked.

“Tell them you are under strict orders by Admiral Doran and that you must defer all information requests to her,” Tag said. “Understood?”

He got a chorus of “Yes, Captain,” and head nods from around the table.

“Good,” Tag said. “I have no idea what the admiral will do with this information or what’s in store for us.” In truth, he was worried his crew might be reassigned or disbanded altogether. He hadn’t realized until that moment how much he would miss them and this ship. “We need to prepare for anything. Alpha’s already got the repair bots working on the external hull damage. We’ve still got quite a bit of work to get the energy shields back online and in working order. Bull, when you’re not training, I want you and the marines to help Alpha with manual internal ship repairs. She’ll show you what needs to be done.”

“You got it,” Bull said. No one else seemed to mind taking orders from a droid, either. They’d come a long way since first meeting Alpha, and he was pleased to see that the marines had accepted her as a fellow crew member. An equal.  

Then Alpha had to open her synthetic mouth. “I am very much looking forward to working with the marines, but do they have the ability to perform repair work?”

Lonestar shot her a look fierce as pulsefire. “Back on my grandpop’s ranch, the only repair bots we had were the ranch hands and us kids. Everything from fences to fusion reactors, we had to do it ourselves.”

“So you believe you are capable?”

Lonestar rolled her eyes, and Gorenado stifled a laugh.

Tag decided to stay out of it. Sometimes, parents had to let their children figure out their own way. He figured the same was true of AIs and the scientists who created them.

“Sofia, I want you and Coren to prepare some data packets with our findings. We need courier drones ready. In the worst-case scenario, if Doran or her crew has already been compromised, we need to get a warning to Earth and any other races out there that might be able to respond. If you can identify anyone—whether it’s a civilization you know from your studies or a Mechanic trading partner—we have to think about blowing the lid on this Collector conspiracy. It’s our ace in the hole, but I want to be ready just in case.”

“If we make everything public like that, we might be inviting the Collectors to attack,” Coren said.

“Exactly why this is a last resort,” Tag said. “I don’t want to have to do it. If the Collectors find out we’re onto them, they’ll drop the subterfuge and subdue the SRE with force. And we all know where that leads.” Tag shivered as he said the words, reminded of what it was like to have had the nanites crawling through his body, taking control of his every movement. “Whatever it takes, we will not let the Collectors win.”

“Agreed,” Coren said. “I do not want to see them do to another people what they have done to mine.”

“Lonestar,” Tag said. “Before, a Mil Intel officer used you to track us down. If the Collector collaborators targeted you to deliver the transponder to this ship, they may have been watching you long before they convinced you to carry out their mission.”

Lonestar nodded, looking sullen and ashamed of the treachery she had been tricked into carrying out. “I’m just as sorry as I can be about that, Cap,” she said.

“I know. You don’t need to apologize. If you’d consent to it, I’d ask that you share your last several months of private communications with Alpha, along with access to your wrist terminal. She may be able to find something we missed. If so, we might use that information to track more of them down.”

“Of course, Captain,” Lonestar said. “Anything I can do to help stop those assholes, I’ll do it sure as a donkey pisses on the grass.”

Alpha looked at Sofia. “Is that a human expression, too?”

Sofia laughed. “I’m not sure what that was.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

––––––––

Their time in hyperspace passed by in a frenetic blur of activity and occasional, but much needed, sleep. When they were once again settled in their crash couches awaiting transition to normal space, Tag felt a surge of confidence. Now they held the cards. They could blow the conspiracy open if need be, alerting media outlets throughout the SRE to warn people of the Collector threat. Even if the SRE government was already controlled by the Collectors—which Tag hoped wasn’t yet true—it might be enough to convince people to rise against their oppressors. Fringe colonies had been trying to subvert SRE rule for decades. They just needed an excuse to rebel.

All the same, he prayed to the gods it wouldn’t come to that. It was far better to go against the Collectors as a unified people. Rebellion might mean the end of the SRE. But if the SRE was already being run by the Collectors, what did it matter? If some free bastions of the SRE remained, they would at least have the warning they needed to evacuate or prepare to defend themselves.

As a fractured civilization, they wouldn’t stand a chance if the Collectors decided to unleash their nanites on the human race.

“Alpha, initiate transition,” Tag said.

The Argo lurched, slowing to the normal limits of space-time undistorted by altered gravity. As the purple and green plasma of hyperspace began to dissipate from their freshly repaired viewscreens, Tag’s eyes fell toward the obsidian slate secured to his terminal. The communication device had gone unused since they left Meck’ara. L’ndrant had never reached out to him, and Tag feared what that might mean for her. He had considered sending a message, but he feared that someone might use that communication to further incriminate her if she was already in custody.

As the plasma waves of hyperspace gave way to the star-studded fields of space, Tag realized how truly alone they were. The bridges behind them had been burned, and there was no telling what trenches their enemies had dug before them.

“The sensors are picking up SRE signals,” Alpha said as green dots appeared on the holomap, indicating friendly ships. “It seems we have indeed found the SRES Montenegro.”

An incoming transmission request blinked across Tag’s holoscreen. Unlike before, he readily accepted it. An unfamiliar man in an SRE officer’s uniform appeared. “SRES Argo, welcome to the Montenegro strike group. We have been waiting for you.”

Sofia turned to Tag, but he shrugged. He had anticipated having to explain his way back to the Montenegro. Having a red carpet rolled out for them was certainly not what he had been expecting.

“Stand by as our escorts join you,” the officer said.

Six SRE strike fighters accelerated toward them.

“Captain,” Coren said, “I’m detecting weapon locks.”

“Stand by with countermeasures,” Tag said. Maybe the red carpet wasn’t quite as friendly as it seemed. Drone-Humans, maybe? “Don’t arm anything yet.”

“Shields?” Alpha asked.

“Remain down.”

The fighters sidled up to the Argo, encircling them.

“Steady on your approach,” the officer said. “You may dock in bay A-4.”

“Copy,” Tag said. “Sofia, take us in.”

With the fighters shadowing them, they passed the battlecruisers and warships making up the Montenegro strike group. Smaller transports and shuttles weaved between the vessels in a constant thrum of traffic. This was a far cry from how things had been when they had departed the Montenegro. After the Drone-Mech assault, the capital ship had been crippled, barely a glimmer of its former self. Most of the cruisers and other warships that had served as its escort had been rendered nothing but scrap.

“Alpha, how many ships are out here?” Tag asked.

“Current sensors indicate two hundred fifty fighters, thirty-six warships including the Montenegro, and seventy-five civilian-class vessels ranging from research to transport.”

“How does that compare to the original strike group?” Tag asked.

“According to the Argo’s records, that is a three-fold increase.”

“Damn,” Sofia said. “Glad to have some additional reinforcements on our side.”

“Are they on our side?” Coren mused. “Weapon locks, fighter escort. Evidence of Collector collaborators.”

“Ever the pessimist,” Sofia said.

“Realist,” the Mechanic corrected.

“Sometimes it doesn’t seem like much of a difference.”

“Welcome to the universe of the Collectors.”

“Either way,” Tag said, interrupting their argument before it could continue any further, “stay on your toes. Remember the plan if things go south?”

The others nodded. Tag was already prepared to manually launch their courier drones into hyperspace, and the Argo was programmed with a failsafe launch protocol in case of fusion reactor, shield, or weapon failures—all signs that they were about to be destroyed.

Soon the hulking shape of the Montenegro appeared before them like a sleeping behemoth. Menacing cannons waited silent and foreboding all across its hull. Singe marks still showed the scars of its near-destruction. Tag thought the blackened sections of alloy made the thing look even fiercer than before. After enduring so many years of relative peace, the Montenegro had finally seen real space combat and come out the other side as a different ship.

A round hatch on the side of the Montenegro opened as they approached, revealing the glow of crimson battle lights. The vast bay beyond the hatch was large enough to fit a pair of battlecruisers or several squadrons of fighters. But there were no ships within it. Instead, rows of SRE marines in mechanized exosuits prowled the perimeter. On the catwalks suspended under the ceiling, more marines in EVA suits aimed their weapons at the Argo.

“This wasn’t exactly the welcome party I was expecting,” Sofia said.

“Like I said...” Coren let his words trail off.

“They’re being careful,” Tag said hopefully. “No different than the Mechanics.”

“We were forced to abscond due to the Mechanics’ suspicions,” Alpha said. “Do you suggest we prepare to do the same here?”

Tag was silent for a moment, eying the command to release their courier drones. “I don’t think we’ll be running away even if we wanted to. Best to speak to the admiral.”

The SRE officer appeared on Tag’s holoscreen again. “Captain Brewer, you are to land your ship in the middle of the bay. After shutting off all engines and weapon systems, you are to exit the ship unarmed and await further orders.”

“Understood,” Tag said.

Sofia took the Argo in slowly. The fighters broke off from their trailing formation but didn’t stray far, instead hovering near the entrance to the bay. Red letters on Tag’s holoscreen still indicated the Argo was detecting multiple weapons locks as they landed.

“Alpha, power down the engines,” Tag said.

Soon the thrum of the grav impellers ceased. The clicks of releasing restraints sounded from around the bridge. The crew silently got up from their seats and followed Tag out into the corridor. They joined the marines near the cargo hold’s exit hatch.

“Sure hope they’re not just going to throw us in the brig,” Bull said.

“Me, too,” Gorenado said. “Not enough gutfire there to keep us entertained.”

“Brig or not,” Tag said, “they’ll probably put us under quarantine. Whatever happens, don’t do anything stupid, and remember what I said.”

“Our lips are sealed,” Alpha said proudly.

With Tag in the lead, one by one the crew exited and stood on the expansive interior deck of the Montenegro. Using a hand to shield his eyes from the intense lights focused on them, Tag surveyed the weapons pointed at him. He found he didn’t much like being on this end of a pulse rifle without one of his own.

“Okay,” Tag said. “We’re here.”

A voice boomed overhead. “Our sensors indicate at least one life-form still on your ship. Order the crew member out now.”

Tag looked at his crew. All the marines, Sofia, Coren, and Alpha were here. Then it struck him.

“Damn it, Lucky,” he muttered. Turning in the direction the voice had come from, he said, “It’s an animal. I need to go back in and retrieve it. Permission to reboard?”

There was a moment of quiet in which Tag imagined the officers conferring in hushed whispers. Finally, the voice replied, “Retrieve the animal. But if you return with weapons, we will open fire.”

“Understood,” Tag said, raising his hands. “No funny business.”

He climbed back up the ladder into the ship, then headed straight through the passages to his quarters. There, Lucky was secured within the cage Coren had modified to serve as a crash couch for the Rizzar.

“Come on,” he said. “Time to go.”

Lucky used one of her front paws to undo the latch. It hadn’t taken long to train her how to get in and out of the cage, and she had faithfully done so whenever Tag had ordered. He wondered just how much smarter than the average Earth-born pet she actually was. Lucky padded out on her six feet, arching her back and rubbing against Tag’s leg.

“Good girl,” Tag said. “We’ve got to go outside now. Stick next to me. Do not go wandering around.”

She mewled and didn’t bother looking up at him.

“I’m serious,” he said.

This time she blinked up at him and mewled louder, as if she understood the request. Tag shook his head and motioned her to follow him to the cargo hold and down the ladder. As soon as his boots hit the deck, he raised his hands and cautiously approached his crew again, this time with Lucky at his side. Once he joined Sofia and Coren, Lucky sat back on her haunches and started licking a paw then using it to clean her scaled hide.

“See?” Tag said. “Like I said, no funny business.”

“Clear!” the voice boomed.

Montenegro marines descended on the crew, overwhelming them before they could so much as exhale in surprise. Tag was blindfolded, and his hands were forced behind his back. His shoulders felt ready to pop from their sockets. He heard a flurry of boots pounding all around him until someone clicked a pair of noise-cancellers over his ears. Something prodded his back, and he took that as a sign he should move forward. He stepped once, almost stumbling, until hands grabbed his aching shoulders forcefully, guiding him along. The odor of sweat hung heavy in the air, making him wonder if these marines were more nervous than he was about the Argo’s arrival.

He tried to count the seconds as they passed, tracking each turn they took until he started to grow dizzy. Before his adventure on the Argo, he hadn’t spent enough time on the Montenegro to memorize its labyrinth of twisting corridors and chambers, so the winding route had him thoroughly disoriented, just as he assumed the marines wanted. Finally, he was signaled to stop with a powerful squeeze on his shoulder. He winced as the blindfolds and noise-cancellers were removed, then the cuffs. As soon as he could move, he spun on his heels to count off his crew members. They were all here, including Lucky. But where were they? The marines had taken them to a room about half as large as the Argo’s mess hall. There were bathroom facilities on one end and bare bunks lining the rest of the bulkheads. Tag recognized it as typical SRE deckhand quarters. It wasn’t luxurious, but at least it wasn’t the brig.

“Glad to see you all again,” Tag said.

Coren massaged his wrists. “At least Admiral Doran didn’t split us all up.”

“That has to count for something,” Sofia said.

Lonestar slumped into one of the bunks. “I take it they didn’t tell you how long they planned to leave us here.”

“That they didn’t,” Tag said.

“For the gods’ sakes,” Bull said. “They could at least feed us.”

“Agreed,” Gorenado said. “Usually if someone has their hands on me like that, it’s only after they’ve bought me dinner.”

Sumo gave him a punch on the shoulder, shaking her head.

Hours passed in quarantine. Montenegro crew members visited only to drop off meals. No matter what he and his crew asked those visitors, they couldn’t get any answers as to how long they would be held up or when they would get a chance to meet with Admiral Doran. Almost a day and a half had gone by with no word of their release or Doran’s plans for them.

“I don’t get it,” Sofia said. “We haven’t even told them about the Collectors or their collaborators. But they’re treating us like we’re traitors.”

“All they know is that there are Drone-Mechs out there, and that the Drone-Mechs are Mechanics infected by nanites,” Coren said. “So, because they know we were looking for other Mechanics, they think we might be infected.”

“Ah, give us humans more credit,” Tag said. “They’ve had plenty of time to figure out why the Drone-Mechs attacked. I’m certain there’s more than a couple theories floating around about why someone attacked the Montenegro. I wouldn’t be surprised if Doran or someone else in the SRE has already begun to suspect some humans aren’t as faithful to humanity as they’d been pretending to be.”

“Either that,” Bull said, “or the Collectors already got to these people. Three hells, maybe Doran is one of them. Those damn blue xenos are probably on their way here right now to punish us for killing Ezekiel and stealing the Dawn.”

“If that’s the case, bring it,” Lonestar said. “I’ll figure out a way to kick the ass of a Collector or two.”

“I would like answers to all our questions,” Alpha said. “I do not enjoy being shunned like this.”

“I would guess they’re sifting through the Argo right now. That’s no small task, especially with all the modifications you two added to the code.” Tag gestured to Coren and Alpha. “You’re positive you hid that courier drone routine?”

“Judging by the shoddy original programming of the Argo’s computer systems, a human computer scientist will have no chance of finding it,” Coren said.

“A yes would’ve worked fine.”

Before Coren could say anything else, the hatch to their quarters swung inward. An SRE ensign stepped in with a dozen marines at her back. “You are to come with me immediately.”

“Just me?” Tag asked.

“All of you.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

––––––––

Tag waited for the marines to cuff and blindfold him again. This time, however, they didn’t even raise their weapons. He felt slightly more at ease that the marines no longer viewed him and his crew as an immediate threat to the Montenegro’s safety, but he had no illusions that they were in the clear. They were still being guided by an armed escort.

His fingers went instinctively toward his hip. Without a pulse pistol in his holster, he felt naked. The ensign didn’t offer any other words as she led them down the corridor past featureless walls. Harsh white lights beat down from the ceiling panels. None of the familiar sounds of whirring bots or idle chatter met Tag’s ears, and the uncanny silence was accentuated by the slightly metallic scent of the place. It felt... unused. Sterile. He didn’t remember seeing this section during his last visit to the Montenegro.

The metallic odor wafting around him brought with it fresh memories of the nanites on the Dawn. He wondered what exactly it was that he was breathing in. Maybe Coren’s suspicions had been right. Maybe the Collectors had already gotten to the SRE, and Tag had led his crew right into a trap. He rubbed his arm right below the wrist terminal, wondering if he should launch the courier drones while his body still moved under his volition. But then again, if the whole of the SRE was already under the influence of the Collectors, what good would it do?

Footsteps punctuated the silence until they reached a hatch that was as nondescript as the rest. The ensign rapped the back of her knuckles on it, and it opened. Tag almost took a step back, not believing what he was seeing. Admiral Doran and Rear Admiral Blank were waiting in an antechamber—and they weren’t alone.

Wearing an unreadable expression, a Mechanic turned to face the newcomers. She eyed Tag and the others as though she were a judge at a cattle show in his native Houston assessing the crew for proper pedigree representation. She offered no clue whether she was displeased to see them or here to support their mission. Tag studied her face, trying to recognize her, but he was certain he would’ve remembered the deep scar that ran horizontally under her golden eyes.

“The infamous crew of the Argo,” she said. “And of course, it was no problem beating you here.”

“Let me guess,” Tag said. “Something, something, Mechanic ships are better than ours.”

“Ah, very wise for a human.”

“Who are you?” Tag asked, his fingers curling into fists. He noticed one of the marines near them shift, but the man didn’t raise his rifle.

“Harsia,” she said. “Newly assigned diplomat to the SRE.”

“How new?” Tag asked, wondering if this was L’ndrant’s appointment or a sign the coup had succeeded against the Grand Elector.

“I haven’t come to answer your questions, Brewer,” Harsia said.

Tag looked to Doran, but she remained stoic. There was no sign of the confidence or pride she’d had in him and his crew back when they had helped to save the Montenegro from the Drone-Mechs.

“Admiral, what is going on here?”

“Brewer, you’re coming with me and Rear Admiral Blank. The rest of you will be assigned separate interviewers.”

At Doran’s beckoning, Tag strode forward.

“Stop!” one of the marines said.

Tag spun on his heels, thinking the marine had been talking to him. But instead he saw the marine pointing a rifle at the Rizzar. She arched her spine, hissing and spitting between her needlelike teeth. The scales on her back opened and flared, and her green eyes lit up with the intensity of grav impellers on a burn.

“Settle, Lucky,” Tag said.

Doran raised her brow, her frosty façade melting slightly. “Is that creature your pet or a new crew member?”

“A little bit of both,” Tag said.

“Is she going to be trouble?”

Tag looked at Lucky, hesitating. He hoped she could understand the thoughts behind his expression. Come on, Lucky. Don’t get yourself hurt.

With a strangely human sigh, the Rizzar spread her lizard-like paws out, retracting her claws and flattening her scales. She padded softly to Tag’s side and followed him, Doran, Blank, and Harsia through an open hatch. Four marines joined them. The space was furnished with a table and several chairs.

“Please, sit,” Doran said, motioning at the solitary chair on the far side of the table.

After Tag sat, the others took their seats. The four marines remained standing behind Doran, their pulse rifles still held close to their chests. Rizzar settled next to Tag’s feet, curling around herself like a snake.

“You surprise me,” Doran said. “I hadn’t expected to see the Argo again after you fell off the grid.”

“I’m sorry for our lack of communication, but we’ve got some very good reasons,” Tag said. “I’ll be happy to fill you in on the details.”

“I’m sure you would be,” Blank said, a scowl accentuating his wrinkles. “It’s fortunate for us Harsia has come to warn us what you and the crew pulled on Meck’ara.”

“What we pulled?”

Harsia crossed her thin arms over her black unisuit. “As soon as you took off, we knew where you would be headed, and I was sent immediately to intercept you.”

“But—”

Blank cut him off with a wave of his hand. “Save it, Brewer. Harsia told us how you left without warning, stealing away when they were trying to resupply their own cities. She also told us about how you destroyed the Dawn of Glory.”

“We didn’t destroy the Dawn,” Tag said, feeling the heat rise to his face. “If you’ll just let me explain.”

“All that will come in good time, Brewer,” Harsia said.

Tag made note of that. If she had left Meck’ara right after they did, then she might not be involved in the possible coup. And if L’ndrant had sent her, the Mechanic diplomat might be willing to listen to reason.

“Harsia warned us you might be compromised by what you all are calling the post-humans,” Doran said. “She showed us what happened to their planet. Mechra, is it?”

“Meck’ara,” Harsia said.

Tag wanted to protest. But no matter how adamantly he tried to deny being a victim of the nanites, it wouldn’t prove anything. There had to be some way to prove it.

“I’m going to level with you, Brewer,” Doran said. “I didn’t have high hopes for your mission when you went out there. I knew it was risky and you were ill-equipped, but we didn’t have a lot of options at the time. After we stopped getting courier drones, I assumed the worst.”

“I understand,” Tag said. “And you’re evidently taking precautions because you think we might be post-human compromised. But we were worried any information we shared via courier drone could be intercepted by the collaborators.”

Doran seemed to consider this. “Collaborators? That’s what you’re calling them?”

Blank almost leapt across the table, his eyes sparking with malice. “Admit it, Brewer. Harsia’s already told us the post-human stories you brought back along with that post-human ship. And now you’ve destroyed the Dawn. It sure doesn’t look good for you, especially after leaving us in the dark for so long.”

“I know it looks bad,” Tag said, trying to keep his anger in check. Blank’s face burned, sweat trickling from his receding hairline, and Tag mentally chided himself to remain calmer than him. “I didn’t destroy the Dawn. I have footage from that incident.”

“Footage is easily doctored,” Harsia said.

“It is,” Tag said. “But logically, why in the names of all the gods would I go through the trouble of bringing the Dawn to Meck’ara only to destroy it?”

“That’s what I want to know.” Blank slammed both his fists on the table.

With the back of his hand, Tag wiped Blank’s spittle from his cheek. The man was rabid. Had the man taken Tag’s radio silence personally? Or had Harsia already convinced Blank that Tag and his crew were the enemy? Either way, Tag had seen privates in the marines with better decorum than the rear admiral.

Doran gave Blank a sidelong glance before her eyes returned to Tag’s. She placed both hands on the table in an open gesture, as if this was some kind of intergalactic good cop, bad cop routine. “Look, I want you to tell your side of the story. Why you were suspicious, why you withheld information until now. What you discovered about the post-humans and why you brought that ship back and why it was destroyed.”

“Gladly,” Tag said. He shifted in his chair and then looked up at the marines. “Much of this information is sensitive.”

“Give it a rest, Brewer,” Blank said. He gestured to the marines. “Those men are here to take you down the moment we catch you in a lie.”

Lucky shifted at his feet, and Tag willed her to remain silent. Doran had been amused by the Rizzar, but he didn’t think Blank would be so amenable to Lucky’s presence.

“Is this an interview or an interrogation?” he asked.

Doran and the Mechanic ambassador watched him with equally stoic expressions. “There’s no need to worry,” Doran said. “Everyone in this room was hand-selected by Rear Admiral Blank. Nothing said here goes beyond these walls. Simple as that.”

Tag hesitated for a moment longer, but it seemed the only way he was walking out of this room a free man was to tell them everything.

He started from the last courier drone he had sent, telling Doran and Blank about taking the Argo into what was once Mechanic-controlled space. Harsia closed her golden eyes when he described finding nothing but ruined space stations and colonies, torn apart by the Drone-Mechs. With some hesitation, he told them about how Lonestar had been duped by a military intelligence officer into planting a transponder in the Argo that allowed the Drone-Mechs to track them down.

He told them about encountering the Dreg and Melarrey, and finally the free Mechanic fleet. How they had launched a counterattack on Meck’ara to retake the planet and disrupt the grav wave signals controlling the Drone-Mech. Then he went over their self-appointed mission to the coordinates he had discovered hidden in Captain Weber’s logbook. How they had stumbled on the cobbled-together monstrosity that had once been the UNS Hope, post-human. Finally, he told them about their discovery of the Dawn of Glory and how they had overcome Ezekiel.

“It was on that ship we discovered the Collectors’ plans to develop nanites that not only enslaved humans but also set off a wave of genetic alterations to turn them into post-humans,” Tag said. “I took the ship back to Meck’ara, because I was worried if I brought it here—”

“The Collector collaborators would take it back,” Doran finished for him.

“That’s ridiculous,” Blank said. “We were attacked by the Drone-Mech. Why would they do that if we had collaborators aboard on their side?”

“I don’t know, sir,” Tag said.

“You still claim you didn’t destroy the Dawn,” Doran said.

Harsia muttered something under her breath, but Tag couldn’t hear it.

“That’s right,” he said. “We didn’t. A Starinski Labs stealth craft blew it up.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

––––––––

“You’re lying,” Blank said. His forehead was still glistening with sweat, as though he were the one being interrogated and not Tag.

“I’m not,” Tag replied. “One of my marines identified the craft.”

Doran tapped on her wrist terminal. A holo of a ship appeared in the middle of the white table they were seated at, all smooth contours and dark as space itself. “Does this look familiar?”

“That’s exactly it,” Tag said. He motioned to his wrist terminal. “May I?”

With a nod, Doran gave holo control access to Tag’s wrist terminal. He swiped over the device’s screen until he reached the footage of the incident above Meck’ara, right when Coren had knocked out New Blood’s cloaking shields. With a flick of a finger, the holovid began to play. Doran watched, frowning slightly, but Blank was already shaking his head in disgust.

“That’s the ship,” Tag said. He paused the image and pointed to a speck on the Dawn’s ship bay deck. “And there’s the bomb it left behind.” He let the holo play. First the stealth ship jumped into hyperspace, and then the Argo rocketed away just before the series of explosions eliminated the Dawn. “The footage isn’t edited.”

Harsia looked unimpressed. “If you are on the side of the post-humans, there is no telling what their technology can accomplish.”

“That’s true,” Tag said. “Which is why we were so worried about letting information spill to the Montenegro.”

“I see,” Doran said. She looked to Harsia. “His story does mesh with yours, despite your uncertainty of the events surrounding the Dawn’s destruction.”

“So you believe me?” Tag asked.

Doran checked her wrist terminal. “I’m getting reports from your other crew members. They support your story.”

“Of course they do,” Tag said. “It’s the truth.”

Blank’s jaw worked like he was chewing a gristly piece of steak. “Or you all rehearsed the story before coming here.”

“I am not convinced,” Harsia said. “Our people were fooled by the Drone-Mechs before. I would hate to see the same happen to yours.”

“Fortunately, I don’t have to rely on something so primitive as a gut feeling,” Doran said.

Harsia shot her a bemused expression.

“What do you mean?” Tag asked.

Doran watched him, her expression guarded. “Surely you’ve noticed it, Captain. Something different from your last visit.”

“I don’t know,” Tag said. “I’ve never been to this part of the Montenegro before.”

“That would be because they’re new,” Doran said. “We’ve made some...modifications to the life support systems. Specifically, the air.”

“I did notice a strange taste to it. It reminded me of the Dawn.” Then his spine tingled with electricity. “What did you do?”

“Relax,” Doran said. “Nothing so insidious as the nanites used to control the Drone-Mechs. Truth be told, we’ve been dealing with more civil unrest than usual throughout our colonies. Classified reports detailing peculiar behavior in some of our Mil Intel, civilian contractors, and even enlisted men and women, have landed on my desk. Colonial protests have turned into riots approaching civil war. It’s chaos out there in SRE territory.”

“You suspect the Collectors are behind it?” Tag asked. He couldn’t believe the collaborators were getting so brazen. Inciting riots and rebellions already? But what did this have to do with nanites in the air?

“Maybe,” Doran said. “I’m not ruling out anything. More likely, other splinter groups are taking advantage of the fallout from the news about the Drone-Mech attack on our strike group.”

“If any of these events are linked to the Collectors, it’s certainly in the SRE’s best interest to investigate it,” Tag said.

“Very true,” Doran said. “Which brings me back to what I wanted to say before. While you were gone, we began developing nanite-based technologies of our own—based largely on the findings you provided.”

Tag must’ve let his dismay show on his face.

“It’s not mind control, Captain. Instead, we developed our own particles. They congregate around the nanite antennae within a host’s brain. I couldn’t explain the exact process to you. But my team assures me that these particles form a large enough cluster around the nanite antenna that they’re visible to our existing medical imaging equipment.”

“So this whole time we’ve been in quarantine,” Tag said, “we’ve been breathing these particles in, and they’ve been circulating through our blood.”

“That’s about it. It takes time for the particles to build up enough to give an adequate signal,” Doran said. “And we have to be sure—absolutely sure—that you aren’t compromised.”

“And?” Tag asked, glancing between Harsia, Doran, and Blank.

Doran tapped her wrist terminal, and a moment later there was a knock on the door. One of the marines opened it, and a man in a white lab coat entered. He gave a data cube to Doran. She placed it over her wrist terminal.

“I hope you don’t disappoint me, Brewer,” she said.

Tag wasn’t worried. He was no drone.

The test would clear his crew.

Wouldn’t it?

The room began to feel warmer as Doran loaded the data to his wrist terminal. He felt a trickle of sweat rolled its way down the back of his neck, following the ridges of his spine. Maybe the detection particles would read the trace amount of nanites still in him from his time aboard the Dawn. As Doran’s eyes scanned her wrist terminal, a marine with tattoos climbing up his neck seemed to lean over her shoulder, following along. Tag glanced at the marine’s name tape: Perry.

Without warning, Perry’s fingers moved from casually holding his pulse rifle to gripping it as if he was about to fire. Two more of the marines took a step back from the table, their own rifles at the ready.

“Admiral Doran!” Tag shouted.

Before Doran could look up from her wrist terminal, a dark shape exploded from under the table. It latched onto the nearest marine, and the man’s rifle went off. The resulting pulsefire tore craters into the ceiling. Perry swiveled his rifle toward Harsia and shot her before firing on the lab technician who’d delivered Tag’s test results, as Blank disappeared under the table.

The world seemed to go silent. Tag leapt over the table, acting before he could think. He grabbed the nearest marine’s rifle, meeting the man’s angry blue eyes for an instant as Tag wrestled the weapon away. Adrenaline surged through him, and his pulse thundered in his eardrums.

He pulled the trigger, pumping pulsefire into the blue-eyed marine at point-blank range.

There wasn’t time to think about what he’d done. He threw his body at Perry, forcing the marine to twist away just before he fired on Doran. Perry’s finger remained tight on the trigger. Rounds lanced into the fourth marine’s side, tracing up his ribs and sputtering over his exposed face. Singed skin sloughed away, and blood spattered across the bulkhead.

Tag pushed forward, driving Perry backward until the man’s head cracked against the wall. One of Tag’s feet started to slide out from under him when the marine shoved back, and he staggered.

These men were stronger than him. Better at combat. But Tag had an edge the marines did not. He was fighting not just for his life but the future of the human race.

Tag ducked, borrowing a move he had learned from sparring with Coren. The momentum Perry had gained from shoving Tag carried the hefty marine over Tag’s back, and he slammed onto the table. The jolt made him lose his grip on the rifle. Tag darted in to snatch it away.

Perry was down. The blue-eyed marine wasn’t getting up anytime soon, and the fourth man had been taken out by friendly fire.

But what about the third marine?

He turned just in time to see the marine raising his weapon to aim at Doran.

Tag squeezed the trigger before he had a chance to aim. Rounds punched into the deck then the bulkhead. Then the marine. For a moment, Doran’s gaze met Tag’s, her eyes wild. “Brewer, look out!”

He turned to see Perry standing atop the table. A vessel bulged on his forehead. He attacked Tag like a rabid animal, arms pummeling and teeth biting.

The adrenaline did nothing to combat the agony of blows landing on his temple, his ribs. A hit directly to his kidney. He doubled over, and as soon as he did, he took a knee to his face. He heard a whimper, but it wasn’t his.

Lucky had entered the fray, and Perry had kicked the Rizzar hard enough to send her crashing against the bulkhead.

“No!” Tag grunted.

He tried to raise the pulse rifle, but Perry lashed out with a vicious series of jabs. Lightning struck through his skull and ribs, reigniting old injuries he had thought were healed. His whole world felt on fire, and he struggled to keep his eyes open. His vision wouldn’t focus. The taste of copper was heavy on his tongue, and this time he knew it wasn’t nanoparticles floating in the air. It was his own blood.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

––––––––

A gunshot rang out, and everything went still. Tag felt the sticky warmth of blood across his chest. Its ferrous odor filled his nostrils, and a throbbing pain sent splinters of fire through his jaw. His vision started to refocus, revealing sticky blood all over his outstretched hands.

Great, he thought. Now I can watch myself bleed out.

Instincts ingrained through years of practicing medicine kicked in. He slumped against the bulkhead and assessed his injuries. Where had he been shot? He could breathe fine, so no lung damage. No excruciating pain in his abdomen to signal a devastating gut shot. And he was still able to think, so it couldn’t have been a headshot.

Tag was alive for now, but Perry would no doubt finish the job if given a chance. Tag wobbled upright. A sensation of vertigo made the deck swirl, and he stumbled forward, his hand blindly reaching out to steady himself.

He touched something warm and fleshy. An arm. There was no pulse beneath Tag’s fingers, and the icy blue eyes of the marine he’d killed were fixed sightlessly at the ceiling.

Tag swiveled, blinking away the blood and sweat and confusion. He saw someone moving in his peripheral vision. It wasn’t the hulking frame of the marine, but someone smaller, slighter.

“Admiral?” Tag tried to say, the word coming out slurred.

Before she could answer, Blank shoved past Tag and launched himself at Doran. A sharp pain ricocheted through his bruised and blood-covered wrist as he tried to grab Blank. Doran slammed against the floor.

“Stop!” Tag yelled as he attempted to drag the rear admiral away from Doran.

“She’s one of them,” Blank rasped.

Doubt swept over Tag like a chilling wind. By the gods, what if he was fighting on the wrong side? Was he responsible for the deaths of innocent men trying to bring down a traitor?

Blank took advantage of his confusion. The rear admiral threw his elbow in Tag’s nose. Tag wheeled backward, blood spilling between his fingers as he clutched at his damaged face. Doran flailed under Blank’s grasp, her face turning red. Her limbs started to tremble, moving more sporadically.

No, Tag thought. Even if Admiral Doran was a collaborator, he couldn’t allow Blank to murder her. She needed to be questioned. Once more, he tried to drag Blank away from Doran. Unlike him, Blank hadn’t been injured in the fray. He kicked Tag in the chest with enough force to send him flying backward. Tag juked around the rear admiral and slid across the table. He landed on the other side, picked up one of the dropped rifles, and leveled it at Blank’s face.

“Let Doran go,” Tag said, his chest heaving. A cough tickled at the back of his throat, the blood from his nosebleed congealing as it made its way down. His finger traced around the trigger guard and settled over the trigger. “Blank, this isn’t right. Let her go.”

A sudden pallor washed over Blank’s face. His grip loosened, and he backed away from Doran. She gasped, clutching at her throat where red finger marks were already forming.

“Over there,” Tag said, gesturing to the corner of the room. He had half a mind to call an emergency team down here immediately, but there was another voice that whispered at him not to do it. He didn’t know who to trust right now. “Admiral Doran, are you all right?”

Doran coughed. “Son of a bitch,” she said, her voice husky. “Blank is insane. I’m not in bed with the Collectors.”

“Don’t listen to her,” Blank said. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re all traitors.”

Tag gave the rear admiral a sharp look. The man had been acting strangely ever since the interrogation began, hurling wild accusations and sweating profusely. He decided to try a gambit. “Blank, are your men going to kill my people, too?”

Blank didn’t respond, but his eye twitched, giving him away.

“They are, aren’t they? Call off your men or I’ll shoot you.”

“No,” Blank said. Sweat still trickled down his face, mixing with the stream of blood from a cracked lip. “You wouldn’t shoot me in cold blood, Doctor. You’re supposed to be saving lives, not taking them. You don’t know what you’re dealing with. Best thing you can do is walk away from this now.”

“Call your people off now!” Tag yelled at Blank.

Blank shook his head then ducked just as Tag pulled the trigger. Pulsefire splashed against the bulkhead, leaving dark gouges. Wheeling around, he kept the gun on Blank, but the rear admiral had crawled under the table.

“Face me, you coward,” Tag muttered. “I want answers.”

A chair spilled backward as Blank emerged on the opposite side of the table. A pulse rifle glinted in his hand, and Tag saw the narrow mouth of the barrel swinging toward him.

He fired. Blank did, too.

Any gods that might be out there, it’d be great if you helped me out here.

Tag threw himself out of the way, still pulling the trigger. A growl erupted amid the gunfire. Lucky clamped on Blank’s wrist, and she twisted her head back and forth like a housecat playing with a toy mouse. Blank howled in pain and try to shake off the Rizzar, but she was tenacious. Tag fired twice at Blank. The rear admiral dropped the gun as two new wounds darkened against his uniform. He fell backward, clutching the shoulder where he had been shot, Lucky hanging on all the while. Tag lunged over the table and kept the rifle trained on Blank.

“Call your men off,” Tag said, a hot ball of rage smoldering in his chest.

When Blank refused to answer, Tag looked at Lucky. “My Rizzar is just playing with you right now, but at my command she’ll scratch your gods-damned eyes out.”

As if to confirm the threat, Lucky growled and bit down harder on the rear admiral’s wrist. “Need... wrist terminal,” Blank grunted.

“Lucky,” Tag said.

The Rizzar let go of Blank immediately. Her intense stare never strayed from Blank. He started to bring the wrist terminal to his mouth. There was a glint of something in Blank’s eyes. Something that didn’t make sense. Victory.

With a swift kick, Tag knocked the man’s wrist away before he could speak. “Take it off and hand it to me, asshole. Like you said, I’m a goddamned doctor, not an idiot.”

Blank looked as though he were about to refuse. Lucky’s scales bristled, and her claws extended, scraping the floor. Without another word, Blank pulled the wrist terminal from his arm and threw it to Tag.

“Go ahead,” Blank said. “You win.”

Tag cursed. Whoever was working with Blank expected Tag to be dead already. Hearing his voice over the comms wouldn’t help anything. They’d probably execute his crew and then rush in here to help Blank. Maybe if Doran gave the order, it would buy him some time. The enemy wouldn’t know whether the plan had succeeded yet, gotten called off, or failed altogether.

Still training the rifle on Blank, he knelt next to Doran.

“Admiral,” Tag asked. “I need you to order a halt on the other interrogations. Whatever you need to say to get them to stop. Please.”

She nodded, bringing herself up to sit a little straighter against the bulkhead. After a fit of coughing, she took the wrist terminal from Tag. “Code Beta lockdown,” she managed to croak. “Code Beta lockdown, initiated by Alpha Delta.”

Tag expected to hear panic outside or hatches crunching shut. But instead he was met with only silence. For a second, he wondered if he had made a terrible mistake, if Doran was keeping him and his crew locked away in the belly of the Montenegro while the Collectors continued their devastating campaign to conquer the known universe.

“Lockdown?” he asked. “What does ‘Code Beta’ mean?”

“A failsafe,” Doran said. She put one hand on the table and started to pull herself up. Tag leaned in to help, offering a hand, but she waved him off. “It means one of you is infected, and no one is to enter or leave the interrogation chambers. We’re in a holding pattern until I issue orders.”

Blank shot her a look filled with malice but said nothing. His hands were clamped over his shoulder. The wounds weren’t fatal, and the pulsefire had effectively cauterized most of the blood vessels around them.

“So what do we do now?” Tag asked. Despite his reservations, he approached Blank. The man winced when Tag tore the fabric off one of the rear admiral’s sleeves. He fashioned a bandage out of it and wrapped it around Blank’s shoulder, putting pressure on the wound to stem the bleeding. A groan of pain slipped from Blank’s clenched jaw.

“I’ll call Blank’s marines into the main corridor,” Doran said, “and sort this out.”

Tag frowned. “Maybe this is a stupid question, but won’t they know something else is up with all the pulsefire in here?”

“Soundproofed,” Doran replied. “Meant to keep classified info from leaking.”

“Good,” Tag said as he finished bandaging Blank’s wrist with another strip of cloth. He moved to Harsia and the technician in the white coat, checking each of their wrists for a pulse. They were gone, as were the four marines. “What about Blank?”

“Keep watch on him,” Doran said, her voice still sounding huskier than usual. Straightening her collar in a failed attempt to obscure the marks around her neck, she stood by the door. “I’m going to figure out what in the three hells is going on.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

––––––––

Admiral Doran had left Tag with two of the rifles. She strapped one of the remaining pulse rifles across her back and carried the other in the crook of her arm. Doran left the door to the interrogation room slightly ajar so that Tag could hear what was going on beyond the soundproofed walls. The echoes of boots cracking against the floor announced the arrival of Blank’s marines. He heard a smattering of voices, at first confused, then angry. Someone began shouting. All the while, Blank stared at Tag. The man’s face was pale, though whether from blood loss, fury, or fear Tag couldn’t tell. The rear admiral had just committed high treason, and whatever happened to Blank next would not be pleasant.

Gunshots boomed outside, followed by more yells and what sounded like a brief scuffle. Lucky hissed, running to Tag and standing before him protectively. If Doran failed, if Blank’s recruits attempted to carry out their mission, then he needed to be ready to save his crew himself.

He heard the heavy beat of footfalls approaching the half-open door. An unfamiliar female marine walked in. “Doran wants you out there, Captain Brewer. Bring the rear admiral.”

Tag was hesitant for a second before a familiar silver face appeared.

“Everything is under control, Captain,” Alpha said. “Please comply with the marine’s request.” The marine made short work of securing Blank’s hands together. Without any regard for Blank’s injuries, she hoisted him to his feet. Blank couldn’t stand, much less take a single step, and he crumpled against the marine. She simply dragged him out into the main corridor as he moaned.

“That is not the correct protocol for treating an injured patient,” Alpha said, watching them.

“I don’t think she views him as a patient,” Tag said. “It’s hard to be sympathetic after Blank tried to kill Admiral Doran. And us.”

“Your explanation makes sense.” Alpha’s beady black eyes traced over Tag’s injuries. “You are hurt, Captain. May I give you an assessment?”

“I’ll live,” Tag said, wiping blood from his lips. “We need to make sure Doran does, too.”

Then Tag saw the burnt holes in Alpha’s chassis. Multiple gouges marred the alloy skin across her left arm and abdomen. “Alpha, are you okay?”

“My vital components were missed,” she said. “I have had to reroute motor control in my left arm, and I will need revisions later. I’ve detected a small leak from one of my vessel analogues. Most of the damage has been patched by the self-repairing systems, but I fear you may need to intervene to ensure the repairs are adequate.”

“Of course,” Tag said. “Is everyone else okay?”

“They are,” Alpha said.

He wanted to ask what had happened in the other interrogation room, but his questions would have to wait. More pressing was the need to round up all the traitors and figure out how deep this betrayal went. He did his best to saunter confidently into the main chamber, ready to engage in another fight if need be.

But in the main corridor, it appeared things had already been taken care of. Doran stood at the end of the white-walled chamber, light beaming down over her. The crooked grin she gave Tag seemed to shave a decade or two off her age despite the half-dried blood covering the side of her face. One set of marines, wearing mixed expressions of confusion and anger, seemed to be guarding another group, who were kneeling with hands secured behind their backs. Several bodies were sprawled across the deck. Pools of crimson formed beneath them, and Tag didn’t bother checking for vital signs.

“That was far easier than I expected,” Doran said. She punched a button on a wall-terminal, and the hatches opened. “This droid of yours is handy in a fight. I don’t suppose you’ve got an extra one lying around?”

“I’m more than a droid,” Alpha corrected her. “I’m a sentient synth-bio life-form, contrary to the droids manufactured and employed within the SRE.”

“My apologies, Alpha,” Doran said, then turned back to Tag. “I was going to squeeze the truth out of these traitors, but Alpha had a better idea. People can lie, but data, fortunately, doesn’t.” She kicked at a loose wrist terminal near her feet. Several others lay on the deck beside it. “Turns out Blank was using a private message encryption application to organize this little coup. Alpha was able to locate the application and isolate the terminals of the guilty ones.”

“It was my pleasure,” Alpha said.

Tag’s crew emerged from the hatches, gazing around in alarm. Smiling, Sofia reached Tag’s side first, and her fingers brushed his arm. “Looks like our suspicions of collaborators on the Montenegro were right.”

“It would seem that way,” Doran said. “Perhaps you can enlighten us, Rear Admiral Blank. What was this all about?”

Blank stared hard at Doran. “You’re making a mistake. Listening to these... these rats. Your choices here might well damn the rest of humanity. My men and I are on the right side of history. We have embraced the promises of a better future, while you condemn us all to certain extinction.”

“Sounds like a goddamned cult leader,” Bull said. Sumo, Lonestar, and Gorenado fell in beside him. Coren joined them last, looking wary.

“Might not be too far from the truth.” Doran pointed at the marines still loyal to the SRE. “Lock the prisoners in a spare quarantine quarter.”

“What about him, Admiral?” a marine asked, gesturing toward Blank.

“I’d like to ask him some questions first.”

The marines filed out of the chamber with their prisoners. Then one of Blank’s men dropped.

“He’s gone unconscious!” the female marine who’d liberated Tag yelled.

One by one, the other prisoners crumpled. Red foam bubbled from their mouths. Tag ran to them, but he could already see it was too late. All the information they might have possessed was gone with them.

“Son of a bitch,” Tag said.

Doran stared hard at Blank. Tag expected the man to fall over, frothing like the prisoners, but he simply glared at them with undisguised hatred.

“I see you were too much of a coward to go out with your men,” Doran said as her marines cleared the bodies away.

The crew of the Argo was alone with Admiral Doran and Rear Admiral Blank. This time no one sat around a conference table, and the only person who wasn’t standing was Blank, who was propped against a bulkhead. Lucky paced near the man’s feet as if daring him to make a move.

Doran strode toward him. She wasn’t particularly tall, nor was she built with anything near the physical power of a marine. Her age was evident in the wrinkles around her eyes and the gray that streaked her hair. But in that moment, she struck a more menacing figure than an ice god on Eta-Five.

Doran spent the next few hours interrogating Blank with the help of a few marines. While Tag had offered their assistance, she had refused it, saying it was probably better that a doctor wasn’t present. In the meantime, she asked Alpha and Coren to scrounge through the encrypted communications between Blank and the marines who’d been complicit in the assassination plot. Even after Tag had cleaned up most of his injuries, a headache had taken hold, throbbing in rhythm with his heartbeat.

“Found anything yet?” Tag asked Alpha and Coren as they hunched over a pair of terminals.

“Not much more than we already knew,” Coren said. He pushed away from the terminal. “It seems the application erased all messages after a set amount of time, so all I’ve recovered are the details of the Argo’s arrival and our interrogation, along with the plan to execute us all at Blank’s signal. Blank said he would initiate the plan as soon as the results of the nanite-detection tests were revealed. If we all received negative results, they were to kill us. If anyone had positive results, those people were supposed to be spared.”

“Sounds like he was collaborating with the Collectors,” Sofia said.

Tag massaged his temples, willing the headache to subside. “Was anyone giving Blank his orders? Someone from higher up?”

“That is what strikes me as strange,” Coren said. “Blank wasn’t the one orchestrating this, even though he was responsible for letting the others know the results of the test.”

“Who was then?” Tag asked.

“It appears to have been this man,” Alpha said, answering for Coren. She pointed one silver finger at Perry’s body.

“What in the three hells?” Bull folded his arms over his chest, glaring at the dead man. “Piss-poor excuse for a marine. You sure this guy wasn’t with Mil Intel?”

“Nothing on his terminal seems to indicate any affiliation with military intelligence,” Alpha said.

“Lemme take a look.” Bull sauntered over to Alpha, and together they scrolled through the terminal. Bull periodically tutted his disapproval and shook his head.

“Damn,” he said. “Pretty standard career in the marines. Guard and escort duty all over the galaxy.”

“Wonder what made the guy flip.” Sumo sat nearby, her eyes scanning back and forth over the dead marines.

“Did he get hit with the nanites?” Lonestar asked.

Tag pulled up the results of the tests Doran had run. Everyone in the quarantine chamber had been exposed to the same indiscriminate particles. “What’s this guy’s name?”

“Sergeant Quinton Perry,” Alpha replied.

Scrolling down the list, Tag checked out each of the marines on guard duty in the quarantine chamber. He found Perry’s profile and tapped on it.

“Nothing,” Tag said. “Guy was clean. Unless the results were tampered with, it seems none of Blank’s marines were controlled by nanites.”

“Suppose it makes sense,” Sofia said. “It’d be hell to constantly tamper with the stream of data coming from this room every time someone tried pulling up the nanites-detection results. And I’m sure Doran screened these guys extensively.”

“But the one thing she couldn’t screen was their thoughts,” Gorenado said, his eyes closed as he leaned back against the bulkhead. “Probably a lot easier to cover their tracks if these people are willing collaborators and not Drone-Humans.”

Tag rubbed his forehead. “If nanites didn’t force them to join the collaborators’ side, what convinced them?”

Slumping into a seat, Sofia drummed her fingers across the table’s clean, white surface. “There’s got to be motivation, right? Money?”

“I’ve accessed all their financial accounts,” Coren said. “Nothing sticks out to me as particularly odd.”

Bull looked over Coren’s shoulder at the display. “Pay looks about right for a marine.”

“Besides,” Sumo said, “we didn’t join for the money. Most of us are in it to protect people and serve the SRE. You’d be hard-pressed to find that many marines in one place willing to sell out.”

“Damn right,” Lonestar said. “I’d be making three or four times as much back at the ranch instead of risking my ass out here. And I know, because my pops reminds me every chance he gets.”

Tag tried to push away the fog caused by his headache, looking for the answer. Most people serving a career in the SRE—himself included—could be making a great deal more if they transferred to the private sector. But they all had chosen this life—him, Sofia, Bull and his squad—because they had wanted some kind of fulfillment. A desire that couldn’t be satisfied by the number in their credit accounts.

What motivated people, other than greed? Love, perhaps. But that didn’t seem to fit here. Revenge? Against whom, and for what? And then there was fear.

Something sparked in his aching brain, and Tag saw again images Ezekiel had shown him on the Dawn. White-lightning beings reached through space and time to abduct the UNS Hope’s crew members, stealing their lives away and leaving half the survivors in a state of delirium.

Tag looked up, the tendrils of his headache forgotten for the moment. “I... I think I know why they did this. They were afraid.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

––––––––

Tag stood and began pacing, his mind going into overdrive. “If I were to guess, these people were recruited. Just like Ezekiel tried to recruit me on the Dawn. He tried to convince me the galaxy was in some kind of grave danger.”

“Was he even telling the truth about those lightning aliens?” Sofia asked. “I couldn’t tell.”

“But that’s just it, isn’t it?” Coren said. “He sowed just enough doubt in us, so imagine if you showed that footage to these guys?”

“You implying marines are dumb?” Bull asked with one raised eyebrow. “Careful where you tread, Mechanic.”

“No, I don’t mean to... I just...” Coren fumbled for words before recovering. “My point is that the Collectors demonstrated a believable threat greater than themselves.”

“You’re suggesting that the Collectors scared these guys into assassinating Doran and us?” Bull asked.

“Perhaps not directly. The human collaborators may have approached these marines instead,” Coren said.

“But someone or something convinced these guys that Doran was a threat to the SRE and the human race,” Sofia said.

“Not just her,” Bull said. “Us too.”

“I saw it in their eyes,” Tag said. “They obviously thought they were doing the right thing.” He looked hard at Bull. “And if I know anything about marines, when they think they’re doing the right thing, it’s goddamned hard to convince them otherwise.”

Bull nodded. “True.”

“But why these particular marines?” Tag turned back to Sumo and Lonestar. “If I were a gambler, I’d bet these guys all shared something in common. Easiest place to look is where they were stationed, no?”

“That seems to be an appropriate assessment,” Alpha said. It took her only a few seconds to perform a public service record on all the marines. “Would you like to see the results?”

“Do you need to ask?” Sofia asked.

Alpha looked to Tag for clarification, still apparently struggling to grasp the layers of human communication, and he gave her a nod. With a swipe of her metallic hand, a holo appeared above one of the tables. It displayed a complete list of locations where the marines had served, detailing a variety of duties ranging from other ships to far-off satellite stations and burgeoning colonies.

And while their careers had been varied, almost all of them shared one common factor.

Lonestar pointed to the first location on the list. “The Principality of Orthod. That colony is only twenty or so light-years away from my home planet.” Her face pinched in a scowl. “Bunch of damn crazy people living out there. Always stirring up trouble. They don’t like the SRE much, either.”

“They’re rebels?” Sofia asked. “Is that what this is about?”

“That can’t be it,” Tag said. “What benefit would they have targeting us?”

Even as he said it, his head was filled with conflicting theories. Maybe the rebels wanted to unify other discontented colonies. They might have needed a common enemy to rally against, and the Argo and the Drone-Mechs were it. Maybe they saw Tag’s mission to protect the SRE’s expansion as contrary to their beliefs. Everything he came up with felt like he was stretching for an explanation when the simplest answer was right in front of him: collusion with the Collectors.

“Seems logical,” Coren said. “But even I would hesitate to impugn these humans with such an accusation without some kind of evidence.”

“My information on the Principality of Orthod is limited,” Alpha said. “I am unable to provide details beyond basic statistics. Would you like to hear those now?”

“That’s okay,” Tag said. “Lonestar, can you tell us anything else from first-hand experience?”

“One time some assholes from Orthod came and tried to buy up all our family ranches when I was six or seven. They were real pushy and weren’t afraid of showing off their money.”

Tag had hoped for something more relevant to their current predicament. “Any idea if these were colonists looking for a homestead or companies trying to invest?”

“They were suit-types,” Lonestar said. “I don’t know for sure, but I’d say they were company people. No clue who they were representing.”

They sifted through the data Alpha and Coren had pulled up. Doran’s marines returned with rations and medical supplies. Tag ensured no one else needed his services as a medical doctor before tending to his own wounds with autoheal gel and a dose of painkillers. A sigh of relief escaped him as the painkillers flowed through his vessels, banishing his headache and temporarily assuaging the throbbing soreness in his jaw.

The hatch banged open, and Admiral Doran strolled out of the room where she’d been interrogating Blank. Her sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, and Tag thought there was a bit more blood across her knuckles. He knew better than to ask questions.

Doran called over two of her marines from the corridor. “Take him away. Lock him in his own quarters. No access to electronics of any kind, and post a guard.”

The marines nodded and dragged Blank out of the room. Alpha stopped what she was doing and stared at the bloodied mess of a man. “This man needs medical assistance.”

Doran slowly exhaled, looking like she was about to refuse. “Fine.” She waved her hand at Alpha. “But don’t be too generous on the painkillers.”

Alpha left her terminal and began tending to Blank. Tag recalled only too well the time she’d told him about the strange thrill she got from ending lives on the battlefield. Those words had frightened him, but he was glad to see she had evolved past it, now far more enamored with saving lives than ending them. Her synth-bio intelligence was still young and malleable, and he was pleased to see it moving in a direction more in line with the Hippocratic Oath he’d once taken.

Still, part of him thought Blank would be better off dead. The man was a traitor who was in all likelihood working with the collaborators, if not the Collectors. Blank would have slaughtered Tag and the entire crew of the Argo for his misguided cause. It was hard to watch Alpha working to save the life of such a man.

“Blank wasn’t much for talking,” Doran said.

Tag wondered how she could have worked him over for so long without getting something useful. The thought must’ve shown on his face.

“Trust me,” Doran said, rolling down her sleeves, “I tried everything permissible by SRE conventions. The bastard wouldn’t talk.”

“How far are you willing to go, Admiral?” This time Coren was staring at Doran, no doubt drawing comparisons to the Drone-Mechs.

“I won’t be employing any mind-slaving technology, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Doran said. Coren looked satisfied with the answer and turned back to his terminal. “But if this plot runs as deep as it seems to, it’s vital we get to the bottom of it.” Dark bags hung under her eyes as she looked at Tag and the rest of the crew. “Please tell me you had better luck.”

“We found something,” Tag said. “All the dead marines served at least one deployment on Orthod.”

“That old colony? Gods be damned,” Doran said. “Wonder why they were...” Her words trailed off, lost to the ether of her churning mind. Tag watched the wheels turn as she looked around the chamber. To the marines, she said, “You all, stand guard outside. I need to speak to Captain Brewer and his crew alone.” Once they had exited, she shook her head, running her fingers through her short, cropped hair. “That ship you saw on the Dawn was a Starinski, wasn’t it?”

“It was,” Tag said. “Or at least, we think it was. They were also one of the companies contracted to work on the Hope before the crew turned themselves into post-humans.”

“You’re a scientist. I assume you’re not big on coincidences.”

“That would be accurate.”

“This isn’t the first time Orthod has come to my attention. We’ve tracked a few different companies that tried to invest in Orthod’s colonization efforts through back channels. Mineral rights, natural gases, all the usual. Starinski Labs happened to be one of those groups. Now, I’m not saying this is a definite connection, but like you, I’m not a big fan of unexplained coincidences.”

“And you want us to investigate?” Tag motioned to the rest of his crew.

“I do,” Doran said. She leaned against one of the tables. “Look, I know you all just got here, your ship’s still banged up, and we just did a number on you.” She laughed ruefully. “But gods be damned, after what just happened, I honestly don’t know who I can trust in this ship. It’s going to take far too long to pick out the rats on the Montenegro. I need someone on the Orthod connection now.”

“Understood,” Tag said. “We won’t fail you.”

“I know you won’t. Because if you do, one of two things is going to happen. Either my career is going to be worth less than a Mechanic’s fart or else I’m going to end up dead. I don’t like either of those options.” Doran let out another sigh that devolved into a fit of coughing. Once she recomposed herself, she went on. “Something big is coming. I don’t want to be twiddling my thumbs when it does. Find out what, if anything, is going on at Orthod, and be quick about it.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Tag replied. “I assume we’re on our own?”

“You got that right. It’s going to take some political maneuvering to clean up whatever Blank was involved in. I need you to work quickly and quietly. Got that?”

Tag looked at his crew. They were all watching him. There was no question in his mind whether they were headed to Orthod, but he wasn’t happy about the way Doran was throwing them into a dangerous situation without support. “If we show up on Orthod and start asking questions, the colonists will be suspicious. I don’t want to put my people at risk unnecessarily.”

“Good point,” Doran said. “Tensions between the colonists and our government are high. It would make sense to send you as diplomats or mediators, but”—her gaze meandered over the group, lingering on Coren and Alpha in particular—“you all don’t exactly look like the type. Still, you’ll need some kind of mandate when you’re there.”

Tag raised a brow. “We could be on a scientific mission.”

“That alone might not give you much leeway with the SRE side of Orthod.”

Sofia perked up, her eyes gleaming. “I have an idea. It’s going to require a little playacting, but it might work.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

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Admiral Doran personally shuttled Tag and the crew back to the Argo. Tag was eager to leave before the investigation into Blank’s failed mutiny began. As much as he wanted to help Doran, finding the mutineers’ links to the Collectors was more important. He worried that word of the failed assassination would reach the collaborators, and they might lose their chance to discover the truth. If they didn’t leave immediately, the bureaucratic and political nightmare that would ensue would assuredly entangle them as well.

Though Tag had been tense during the short shuttle flight, leaving the Montenegro proved an uneventful affair. Soon they found themselves in the familiar realm of hyperspace, rocketing toward the coordinates that Doran had given them. Restraints unclicked throughout the bridge as Sofia, Alpha, and Coren stretched from their crash couches.

“All repair bots have been engaged to continue work,” Alpha said. “They will do so until we initiate transition into normal space.”

“Good,” Tag replied. “They’ve got a few days to get the shields and weapons back online. Hopefully, once we get to Orthod we won’t have much use for weapons or shields, but I’d rather be prepared.”

“Awfully optimistic after what we just went through,” Sofia said. “Wonder if there are any welcoming parties on Orthod that’ll greet us like Blank did.”

“I hope not,” Coren said. “It’ll make my role a little harder in all of this.”

“Well, you’ve had plenty of time to see how my job works on Eta-Five.” Sofia opened the hatch leading out of the bridge. “You’ll make a damn fine fake anthropologist. Just leave any actual work to me.”

“Your status as an alien may also be to your benefit,” Alpha said. “Your culture and mannerisms will be foreign to the people of Orthod, so they will likely assume any discrepancies in your behavior are due to your xenomorphic origins.”

“In other words,” Tag said, “people are just going to think you’re weird anyway.”

“I’ve always thought so,” Sofia said, clapping Coren on the shoulder.

“I rue the day I joined up with humans,” Coren said, ducking as they took the ladders below deck.

“Honestly, I’m surprised you’ve stuck around this long,” Sofia said. “You must have a soft spot for us. Must be our good looks.”

“Hardly,” Coren said.

“I admire the human ability to develop complex moral and ethical codes of conduct,” Alpha said. “Is that true for you as well, Coren?”

“We’ll go with that,” Coren said.

The patter of claws tapping against alloy echoed from a corridor. Lucky bounced toward them with her head held high, having released herself from her safety cage. She raced them to the mess. With the advantage of having crash couches nearby, the marines had already begun to dig into food. Autoserv bays at the back of the mess pumped out salty air along with the unmistakable smell of charred meat.

Gorenado took a plate from one of the bays. “Nice to finally have a real meal.”

“They don’t feed you well in quarantine, do they?” Lonestar asked.

“Three hells, I’m pretty sure we fed prisoners better back on Tartarus,” Sumo said. “And that prison housed some of the worst scum in the galaxy.”

Coren punched a button on the sole Mechanic-oriented autoserv bay, and something pungent spewed onto his plate. Seemingly unperturbed by the offensive odor, Coren took it back to where the rest of the crew was seated. Tag had wanted to make up a batch of noodles for himself, but Coren’s choice of meal had entirely quashed his appetite.

“That smells like raw sewage,” Sumo said, scrunching her nose in disgust.

“Reminds me of when we’d spread fertilizer over the fields.” Lonestar shrugged and continued eating. “It’s not great, but you get used to it.”

“I question your sense of smell,” Sofia said, pushing back a sandwich.

Coren took a bite of the white substance floating in a pool of yellow broth. Red flakes were scattered in the fluid, and Tag wondered what kind of mutant, fungus-laced mess that meal was based on.

“Coren, as your captain, I’m ordering you to eat that in your quarters next time,” Tag said.

Coren cocked his head, a hint of bemusement crossing over his fur-covered brow. “You’re joking, right? I can never tell with humans.”

“Are you joking?” Bull asked.

“I have to admit,” Coren said, still chewing the soft white substance, “I’m a little confused by your reaction. This is human food, after all.”

“For what kind of humans?” Gorenado said, looking a touch green. “Cannibals?”

“Hardly,” Coren said.

Alpha peered at the food with mild interest. “May I?”

“Be my guest.”

The synth-bio droid spooned out a piece of the white substance, placing it in her artificial mouth. “The taste is quite distinct from the smell. Tangy, but not unpleasant.”

“But it’s human food?” Tag asked, still incredulous.

Coren slurped down another mouthful. “Mechanics are nothing if not honest. This is a Taiwanese dish known, if I’m not mistaken, as ‘stinky tofu.’ It’s one of the only human delicacies I’ve found appetizing.”

“You know what,” Sumo said. “It’s perfectly fine if you go back to eating Mechanic food only. I’ll even drink a pint of C’reen Dahl if you promise not to eat that stuff in front of me again.”

Coren seemed to consider this for a moment as he slurped up the last of his meal. “No deal.”

Groans sounded all around the table. At least with the stinky tofu finished, Tag had regained a fraction of his appetite. He made his way back to the autoserv bay and selected a mild meatloaf. When he joined the group again, they began sharing tales of the strangest foods they had eaten, ranging from Coren’s experience with yogurt to Lonestar’s insistence that bull testicles were not as terrible as they sounded to Sumo’s knowledge of how to properly roast a scorpion—not the ones they had run into on the Hope station, she clarified. It seemed like a normal crew dinner. Almost as if they were on a routine mission and not shuttling between an assassination plot to a colony planet riddled in conspiracy theories and rebellion.

Maybe this is normal now, Tag thought.

The conversation dwindled as the crew finished their meals. A few of them nursed drinks, enjoying a few moments when they could pretend the entire SRE wasn’t about to crumble. But as the jokes became memories and the smiles flattened, Tag knew it was time to address the task at hand.

His hand instinctively reached for the data cube in his pocket. Doran had given it to him shortly before they had taken off. It contained the virtual credentials that should pave the way with the local government on Orthod and allow them to explore the planet without raising too many suspicions.

“As soon as we hit Orthod, we’re going to be in the spotlight. Every move we make will be scrutinized. I didn’t have time to flesh out the details of the plan with Admiral Doran, but we need to understand our roles on this mission.”

He took a breath before continuing. “It will be an uphill battle to gain these people’s trust while looking for intel. I need your A-game.” One by one, he reviewed their roles. The marines had the most straightforward mission. They would be security detail, but Tag also hoped they could ingratiate themselves with the marines deployed on Orthod. If they were lucky, they might sniff out recruitment efforts among the troops. Coren was to be an anthropologist studying humans, and Sofia was to play his SRE counterpart. Doran had suggested Alpha act as a prototype SRE technology. She would volunteer to serve in the colony’s medical clinic.

Tag’s role involved the most subterfuge. He was posing as a diplomat on Orthod to quell the dissatisfaction the colony had expressed with the SRE. Unfortunately, there hadn’t been enough time for Doran to brief him on the sociopolitical climate of Orthod, nor was she able to read him in on classified documents. He was playing his part nearly blind—and Tag could only hope that he wouldn’t be the one to blow their cover and get his crew killed.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

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“Weapons lock detected,” Alpha reported as they transitioned into normal space.

“A fine way to welcome us,” Coren said.

Sofia pulled back on the controls, leveling out over Orthod. On the holomap in the center of the bridge, dots indicated the current locations of the planet’s automated defensive satellites. Doran had told him that these satellites were unmanned but could be controlled manually by the marines planet-side. This system was supposed to make up for the fact that the planet didn’t have a regular warship patrolling it.

“No need to worry yet,” Tag said. “Remember, they don’t know we’re coming. We’re here as uninvited guests.”

“Shields, Captain?” Alpha asked.

“Not yet. Patch me in to the general comms channel.”

“Connected now.”

“Orthod Marine platoon, this is Captain Tag Brewer of the SRES Argo. Requesting permission to land.”

A voice called back in what sounded to Tag like a stilted Eastern European Earther’s accent. “This is Staff Sergeant Aletia Lorens of the Orthod Marine platoon. Permission to land requires encrypted credentials.”

“Copy that, Sergeant,” Tag said. He took the data cube Doran had given him from his EVA suit’s pocket and placed it above his terminal’s data reader plate. With a quick tap, he transmitted the contents of the data cube to the staff sergeant.

There were several long beats of silence, during which Tag wondered if the hastily constructed credentials would pass muster. He watched the planet floating in their viewscreen. Orthod shared the palette of greens, blues, browns, and grays of so many Earth-like planets. Here, the ratio of those colors seemed drastically skewed compared to Earth. Small swirls of brown and gray pockmarked with bits of green made up the few land masses. The oceans here were green, nearly the color of Lucky’s eyes, instead of the more familiar blue. Tag wished he’d had a chance to read more about Orthod’s geography, climate, and history. What kind of a place was he dragging his crew into this time?

“Captain Brewer, you are cleared to land,” Sergeant Lorens finally replied.

“Copy. We’re coming down.”

“Weapons lock is gone,” Alpha reported. Coren visibly relaxed in his crash couch. Still, his hands remained near his terminal.

Sofia initiated manual controls over the Argo and took them over a low, sweeping path to their destination. As the grav impellers churned on, they broke orbit and accelerated along the curve of the planet, heading to the dark side of the world where the Principality of Orthod was. Even without the aid of holomap, lidar, or radar, it would have been easy to spot the small town. Electric lights gleamed like fallen stars, guiding the Argo’s descent. Just south of Orthod City, a luminous red X shone.

“There’s our sign,” Sofia said. She took the Argo over the X then reduced the power to the grav impellers.

Huge clouds of dust kicked up around the ship as it approached the ground. Grass swayed and bent, hugging close to the ground, until Sofia powered the Argo down.

“Well, boys and girls, we’ve made it,” she said.

“Let’s go meet our hosts,” Tag said. “And here’s hoping they’re friendlier than our last.”

“If I’ve learned anything while flying with you, Skipper, it’s to expect the worst,” Sofia replied.

“Pessimism is an undesirable trait,” Alpha said. Coren shot her a dubious look. “Although I suppose it is wise to have realistic expectations so we shall be better prepared to deal with any imminent challenges.”

“What’s that human saying you all seem to enjoy?” Coren asked. “Something like, ‘hope for the best, prepare for the worst?’”

“That’s the one,” Tag said. “Come on, the show’s about to start. Break a leg, everyone.”

As they marched down the Argo’s ramp into the dusty Orthod night, Tag heard Alpha earnestly asking Sofia whether he’d meant they should break their own legs or those of the natives. He smiled grimly.

This was going to be interesting.

They joined the marines outside. Bull was sulking because Tag had only allowed them to be armed with pulse rifles and pistols. Though the colony had been rumbling with the threat of rebellion, no violent conflicts had happened yet. It would look suspicious if their escort was armed with rocket launchers, mini-Gauss rifles, and flamethrowers. Tag had allowed himself only a sheathed plasma-blade, which rested hidden in his boot. Coren and Sofia did the same. Alpha didn’t need a weapon; she was one.

As they waited beside the ship for someone official to meet them, Tag studied their surroundings. There was a slight stench to the dry air, like sulfur. Vents in the ground nearby let out steam from underground hot springs. He could practically feel the scalding water bubbling just beneath the surface of the planet. Strange, curling plants with leaves like a Forinth’s tentacle waved in the slight breeze. Pods hung off the underside of the leaves. At first, Tag thought they must be seeds until he saw they were moving. On closer inspection, they appeared to be creatures stuck somewhere on this planet’s strange evolutionary scale between snails and rodents.

And though the bubbling of the vents and the alien-looking plants had unsettled him slightly, the planet was no more unusual than Meck’ara or Eta-Five or—if he thought about it— Earth. So the sinking feeling in his gut, the voice in his head saying he had just stepped into something neither he nor his crew were ready to handle, didn’t come from anything native to Orthod.

No, Tag thought, peering around at the masses assembled outside his ship, the people yelling and jeering. The sensation of dread filling him like molten metal came from the citizens of Orthod themselves.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

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“SRE scum, get off our planet!”

“Live free or die!”

“Trespassers will be shot!”

“Death to colonialism!”

Bull wasted no time in playing their security detail—although for him it wasn’t so much playing a role as it was following instinct ingrained by years of training.

“Stay back, Captain,” he said, wielding his rifle before him. He didn’t aim it at the crowd yet, but it was clear from the way he handled the weapon that he knew how to use it. Sumo and Lonestar strode in front of Coren and Sofia, with Gorenado blocking Alpha. The four of them watched the crowd, their eyes narrowed and jaws gritted.

“It’s moments like this I’m glad they’re on our side,” Sofia said. “For all the jokes and drinks, they don’t mess around.”

“Captain,” Alpha said, “I don’t see any particularly dangerous weapons among the colonists.”

“No firearms at all?” he asked.

“None,” she said. “Three individuals have sheathed knives, although they are rudimentary tools by my estimation. Nothing quite so effective as a plasma-blade.”

“How many are there?”

“Plasma-blades? None.”

“No, people,” Tag said, struggling to be heard over the raucous crowd.

“There are fifty-five people in this crowd. Although I see additional people running toward us now.” Then a beat of silence from Alpha as the protesters continued decrying the SRE’s interference with their little colony. “Captain, these new arrivals are carrying rifles!”

“Marines, form up,” Bull yelled. The marines formed a tighter ring around Tag and the others, backing them up into the cargo bay hatch.

Tag’s heart hammered in his chest. The last thing he wanted to do was start a riot. He had faced scorpions and Drone-Mechs, nanite-based robots and a Collector, not to mention the insidious Dreg, but facing off against fellow humans was something else entirely.

“So is this how it begins and ends?” Coren asked. “If I’ve learned anything during my brief and exciting career as an amateur anthropologist, it’s that humans are a fierce and noisy lot.”

“We should go back inside,” Bull said, trying to usher them into the cargo hold.

Tag shook his head. “We need to hold our ground. Show these people that we aren’t afraid, nor are we a threat to them.”

Tag held up his hands to get their attention. The mob paid him no heed; their chants continued just as loudly as before.

“Please!” Tag said. “Hear us out!”

On they chanted, wishing death to the SRE and telling the outsiders to leave. The armed colonists were almost there. As they neared, though, Tag saw they weren’t dressed in the utilitarian unisuits or casual clothes of the civilians but in standard-issue SRE combat uniforms.

A few of the civilians must have seen the incoming marines. They turned and started levying insults and jeers at them instead. Then a marine raised his rifle into the air and fired. A bolt of orange pulsefire streamed toward the sky, dissipating in the atmosphere. The shot echoed over the relatively flat landscape, and the crowd at once went silent. To Tag’s surprise, they also didn’t scatter and run. They simply shared looks of disapproval and trenchant whispers. It was as if they had become inured to the sound of gunfire.

Yes, things were definitely tenser here than he had anticipated.

The marines pushed into the colonists. Most moved out of the way, and the few that didn’t were shoved aside with an exchange of curses. A single marine wearing power armor strode ahead of the rest, clearly the alpha of the pack. Chevrons on his shoulder indicated he was a second lieutenant. The man’s visor retracted as he strode toward the Argo. He extended a hand to Tag.

“Lieutenant Ji-hu Cho,” he said. “Pleased to meet you, Ambassador Brewer.” His eyes roved over the others assembled on the Argo’s ramp. “Kind of a ragtag group the admiral sent us. I was expecting some real reinforcements.”

“We’re not here to reinforce anything, sir,” Bull said. “We’re purely on security detail.”

Cho’s eyes swept over Bull, sizing him up. Bull had always been on the short side for a soldier, especially since he had chosen to augment his strength naturally, preferring weight-training over any mild genetic enhancements. With Cho in full combat power armor, Bull was almost half the lieutenant’s height. Still, Bull stared at the man as if he were the one who held rank.

Cho shrugged. “We’ll see how you feel about that after a few days down here. The civvies’ bark is worse than their bite. They talk a big game, but they’re too damn scared to pull anything on us. It helps that we’re the ones with the guns.” He looked at Bull then Sumo, as if they were expected to laugh. When they didn’t, he continued, speaking as though the colonists couldn’t hear him. “I told them the SRE had sent a ship here, and these idiots got all riled up. So while I got ‘em quiet, maybe you can explain why you’re here before they start their bitching again.”

Tag inhaled then coughed, clearing his throat. He’d almost blown it by calling himself Captain. “I’m Ambassador Tag Brewer. I’ve been working in colonial relations for a while now. Admiral Doran of the SRES Montenegro strike group sent me. It’s been noted that people here haven’t been completely satisfied with the SRE governance, so we’ve come to see if we can help.”

“You can help by getting off this planet and taking those fools with you!” a muscular man near the front yelled. Others cheered behind him.

Tag lifted a hand in the air. This time, with the marines and their weapons bristling around them, the civilians fell silent.

“I am not here to tell you what to do or take away your rights,” Tag said. At this, Cho raised a brow, looking slightly bemused. “I’ve been sent as a mediator. Just because I work for the SRE doesn’t mean I only represent their interests. I’m here to learn what we can do for you.”

“I already told you,” the man at the front of the crowd yelled. “Get off our planet!”

At this, Cho nodded to one of his men. The marine clocked the colonist square in the nose. Clutching his face, the wounded man glared furiously at the SRE marines. Cho fired into the air again. The pulsefire reflected orange off his suit and face, giving him the appearance of a demon from the three hells, even if only for a second.

Once again the crowd quieted.

“Lieutenant Cho, please. There’s no need for violence,” Tag said.

“You’ll find there is a need for violence,” Cho said. “Or haven’t you read the reports I’ve been sending?”

Tag was worried his ruse was falling apart. He opened his mouth to respond, thinking he would come up with something as he talked. Before he could try to recover from his gaffe, a woman strode forward. Although she was dressed in civilian clothes like the other colonists, there was a way about her as she walked, as if she possessed some kind of regal lineage. She may as well have been wearing a crown at the deference provided as the civilians parted.

“Of course he hasn’t read the reports, Cho,” the woman said.

“Lieutenant Cho to you, ma’am,” he spat back.

“Lieutenant Cho, the SRE is ignoring our reports. How many times do I have to tell you?”

Tag gave a silent nod to Alpha. She seemed to understand his intention and immediately delved into her wrist terminal. He hoped she was searching for whatever reports these people were referring to in the data packets Doran had given them.

The woman continued, “I’m Maxine Burton, governor of the Principality of Orthod. The reports he is referring to are the courier drones we’ve sent to the SRE. We haven’t received a response for months. In fact, this is the first time we’ve had contact with anyone from the SRE besides these assholes.”

“If anyone’s an asshole—” Cho began, but Burton cut him off.

“Tensions are high,” she said. “There have been incidents—which I detailed in my reports—that require the SRE’s attention.”

“Look,” Cho said, “here’s the deal. Four of my marines disappeared last week.” He counted them off on his fingers. “Privates Manuel Porter, Maureen Dellaporta, Ting Guo, and Sergeant Leo Beckham. Good men and women, and these ungrateful pieces of shit abducted them.”

Four missing marines? Tag thought. So many strange happenings connected with Orthod.

“You have no evidence of that,” Burton said. She looked toward Tag. “If you’re truly here as a mediator, please understand that all my people want is to be treated fairly and justly. Not like the authoritarian police state Cho runs.”

Cho snarled. “I treat you like criminals because you are criminals.”

“We didn’t abduct your people,” Burton said.

“Bullshit,” Cho said. “And even if I gave you the benefit of the doubt, you are here illegally. The principality isn’t yours to command. By right, it’s an SRE planet.”

“Which the SRE only claimed after we established a colony here and terraformed it independently. It was our money, our time, and our lives we risked,” Burton said.

“You can’t even claim this planet as your own,” Cho said. “If anybody owns it, it’s the Imoogi.”

Tag looked at his crew. All of them looked as bewildered as he felt. “Excuse me,” Tag said, “but what is an Imoogi?”

CHAPTER TWENTY

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“Gods’ sake, they really haven’t told you anything about this planet, have they?” Cho asked. “Don’t you know anything?”

“The SRE knows. They just don’t care,” Burton said.

The tendrils of a headache began to swirl around Tag’s mind. He wasn’t sure how much more of this bickering he could stand. “Okay, it sounds like we have a lot of work to do and a lot of catching up.” He motioned to the twin slivers of Orthod’s moons floating overhead. “And it appears we’ve arrived in the middle of your night. I suggest we set a meeting time for tomorrow at a neutral location. Lieutenant Cho, Governor Burton, do you have any such place?”

Burton sighed. “Yes, we have a hall for mediation. Not that it gets used very often.”

“Very well,” Tag said. “In the meantime, why don’t we all get a good night’s sleep? Cho, Burton, please ask your people to go home.”

Cho cast a sideways glance at Maxine before nodding at Tag. “Anything you say, sir. I trust SRE to make the best decision here.” He turned and strode away with his half-dozen marines in tow. He ignored the civilian with the bloodied nose as the man stared daggers at him.

“I’m happy to see the SRE try some real diplomacy here,” Burton said. She let out a slightly derisive laugh. “I just hope it hasn’t come too late.”

While Cho had assumed Tag’s SRE ties meant he was more or less on their side, trying to win Burton’s trust would be a much harder battle. The colonists had also been on Orthod longer than any SRE platoon, so if there had been recruitment activities by the collaborators or suspicious dealings by Starinski Labs, they might have noticed. That meant somehow winning over the governor. “Governor Burton,” Tag said, striding past the protective circle of his own marines. Though the colonists were mostly unarmed, he still felt a tingle of electricity in the air as their eyes followed him. “I want to introduce my team to you. I meant what I said earlier—we’re here to help.”

Some of the tension lifted as the colonists realized Tag was offering more than just some symbolic mediation by the SRE. They were also fascinated by Alpha and Coren. The people here had never heard of, much less seen, a Mechanic, and Alpha transcended all their expectations of what a droid should be.

“I know how this looks,” Tag said. He motioned to himself, his crew, and the Argo. “We’re from the SRE, but I promise we aren’t going to simply reinforce Lieutenant Cho’s idea of how this colony should be run. I was assigned to be a mediator, not a dictator, and I take my position seriously. I’m supposed to be unbiased and objective, and that’s what I’ll try to do.”

Burton nodded along with his statements, but her guarded expression gave nothing away. She was, it appeared, a practiced politician. He wasn’t. He was lying to these people, and he wasn’t near qualified to be one. The guilt of offering these people some kind of hope was already gnawing at his conscience. Gods be damned, they had an anthropologist, a medical droid, and an alien engineer on the crew, why couldn’t he have picked up a random diplomat or two?

“It is very good to hear you say that,” Burton said. “We’ll see if you live up to your promises tomorrow. Good night.”

Tag was ready to return to the safety of the ship, but he could still see the glimmer of skepticism in these people’s eyes. Their only interactions with the SRE had been negative ones up until now. If the marines stationed on the planet were anything like most of the ones he’d known in service, they likely hadn’t bothered to do much fraternizing with the hostile colonists. A chasm of distrust would remain between the two groups as long as they kept themselves isolated. For his investigation to move forward, Tag would need to start building some bridges.

“Actually,” Tag said. “We’ve been flying in that tin can for longer than I can remember. It would be nice to kick our boots under an actual bed on land.”

Burton smiled craftily, seeming to understand the motive behind his gesture. Definitely a practiced politician. “Of course. How could we be so rude? There are a few empty flats in town.”

“We greatly appreciate it, ma’am.” He gestured to Coren, then Alpha. “Our lead anthropologist is eager to explore Orthod, and staying in town will be more convenient for Alpha if there are any medical calls.”

Tag could practically hear the quiet groans of the others behind him.

“Fantastic,” Burton said. “Robert, do you mind showing them to the Coopers’ and Lamberts’ old places?”

A squat man waddled forward, offering a hand to Tag. “Robert Lindquist, Lieutenant Governor. Pleased to meet you.”

“You as well,” Tag replied.

He told the crew to gather their belongings. By the time they had reassembled with bags and Lucky in tow, most of the civilians had already departed. Robert was waiting for them, and he introduced Coren to Greg Watson, a construction manager who also served as an unofficial colony historian. The man happily told Coren about Orthod and quizzed Coren on Mechanic society. Robert also introduced the crew to a married couple, Beth and Samuel Foster, who ran the small medical center. Beth was a general physician, and Samuel a surgeon. Tag expressed his surprise to find someone specializing in only surgery on a backwater planet like Orthod, and Samuel confessed he had to do his job without the aid of regen chambers and robotic surgical suites.

The walk to Orthod was accompanied by the soft burble of chatter and the gurgle of the sulfurous steam vents, but Tag thought he heard a clicking and screeching in the distance.

“What’s that noise?” Tag asked.

“The screamers,” Greg replied.

“Little insect-like beasts,” Robert explained. “Totally harmless.”

As they approached the Principality, they passed by fields of barley and corn along with some other fruits and vegetables Tag was unfamiliar with. Lucky’s nose sniffed the air, her eyes widening in curiosity at everything they passed. Cattle slept or stood in another field surrounded by a wire fence. It was like a picture from a history holo come to life, Tag thought.

The town seemed to be running on a menagerie of solar generators. Wires ran from battery banks to the lights strung up around the buildings. Each gray, cubic construct had been auto-fabricated from a lightweight polymer, Robert explained proudly.

“These things aren’t pretty, but they can withstand everything from acid rain to earthquakes,” he said. Tag saw the 3-D fabricators were still being used. Their spidery frames seemed to be making a slow loop around the circumference of the town, depositing layer upon layer of new polymers.

“Making a wall?” Tag guessed.

“Uh, yeah,” Robert said.

“What happened to the old one?” Sofia asked.

“Never had one,” Robert said, not quite meeting her eye.

Tag glanced at Sofia with a raised brow. People didn’t usually build walls unless they wanted to keep something out. He added that to the mental checklist of things he wanted to talk with Burton about tomorrow.

“Here’s the Coopers’ old place,” Robert said as they approached the edge of town. He motioned to one of the identical residences. “The one across from it is also open. Nothing fancy, but they’ll get the job done.”

While most of the other buildings were dark, a few buildings near the center of town were lit up. Tag could hear the gentle whisper of acoustic music drifting from one.

“I’m guessing that’s the local watering hole,” Tag said.

“That’d be right.” Robert yawned. “I’ll leave you young people to it.”

“Wonder if they got the Turbo match on,” Lonestar said with a longing glance.

Robert tapped something on his wrist terminal. “You all should have access to both houses now. No one ever actually locks their places around here. Well, they didn’t used to lock them. Anyway, have a good night.”

Tag explored the Coopers’ former residence. There was a living room and a couple of bedrooms. The furnishings were spartan but not that different from those on a typical warship. He threw his bags onto a bed, and Lucky promptly curled up beside the pillows.

“I don’t know about these people.” Sofia took the bed next to Tag’s, dropping her bag at the foot of it. “I’m pretty sure it was easier for me to get along with the Forinths, and we had a hell of a language barrier.”

“I’m missing those rainbow-colored octopuses right about now,” Tag said. He checked his wrist terminal. The local time was about one in the morning, but relative to the Argo, it felt like noon. “I don’t think I can sleep right now. Want to go see if we can’t get on the locals’ good side?”

Sofia grinned. “Nothing says diplomacy better than a few drinks with the natives. Besides, whatever they’ve got on tap has to be tastier than that Mechanic piss on Meck’ara.”

“One can only hope.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

––––––––

The strumming of an acoustic guitar was a welcome contrast to the auditory torture of the music on Meck’ara. It was just Tag and Sofia tonight at the cantina that served as Orthod’s principal watering hole. He had been surprised when the marines had turned down his invitation to join them at the bar, but they had insisted on adjusting to the local time zone as quickly as possible to avoid any time shift exhaustion. Coren had agreed to meet Greg for an early meeting to learn more about the Principality, and Alpha had decided to accompany the Fosters to inspect the clinic.

Tag took a sip of lager. He closed his eyes, savoring the slightly hoppy, grassy flavor. “Not bad. Not great, either.”

“Best beer I’ve had in years,” Sofia said.

Tag did the math in his head. “Gods, you haven’t had a beer in years, have you?”

“That’s the joke. Haven’t had one since before the Forinths,” Sofia said. She pushed the glass away. “And I now remember why. More of a wine drinker, I think.”

“I’d get you a glass, but the drink menu is somewhat limited.” Tag gestured to the sign on the wall that simply said “Beer.”

“I’m not that thirsty anyway,” Sofia said. She took another sip and grimaced. “Maybe I’ll learn to like it. At least it’s more palatable than C’reen Dahl.”

Tag could feel the occasional stares like sun rays in the desert on the back of his neck. Word had certainly gotten around of the Argo’s arrival. He was on his second beer—Sofia was still nursing her first—when he sensed someone hovering over his shoulder.

“You’ve got to be Brewer,” a voice said.

Tag turned to see a woman standing behind him. She offered a friendly enough smile, and without invitation sat at one of the empty seats by Tag.

“I’m Hannah Baker,” she said. Her blond hair was tied up in a ponytail, and she brushed a loose strand from her face before taking a sip of her beer. “Just got out of the lab. Heard all the commotion when you all arrived. Sounds like they sent out the welcoming party.”

“That they did,” Sofia said. “Not exactly a friendly bunch, huh?”

Hannah laughed. “No, they’re kind of fiercely protective.”

“Kind of?” Tag asked.

“All right, they are completely fiercely protective of their little place on this world. They’ve been on Orthod long enough for babies to be born and raised here. Everything they built here, from the farms to this bar, has been done pretty much without the help of the SRE.”

“The way you talk,” Tag said, “it seems like you don’t consider yourself one of the colonists.”

“You caught me. I’m not one of the originals. I’m a scientist. Came here to study the local flora and fauna before the human settlers mess everything up too much.”

Tag relaxed, delighted to have met a fellow scientist. “Do you have a fully stocked lab? The Fosters’ clinic sounds quite barebones.”

“Yup, a great setup,” Hannah said. “All the toys a girl could ask for. Even trained a few of the locals to help me with the experiments.”

“Damn,” Sofia said. “The SRE never told us there was a full-scale environmental science operation here.”

“Not surprised,” Hannah said. “I’m not here for the SRE.”

Tag tried to probe that statement as innocently as possible. “So are you here with a private company?”

Hannah laughed, her fingers tapping Tag’s wrist playfully. “You’re kidding, right? How many companies would waste money on documenting the biodiversity of a place like this?”

Tag shrugged. “I’m sure I wouldn’t know.”

“I’m here on behalf of a nonprofit. Enviro-Cosmos. Their whole shtick is studying native species before we steamroll over them.”

“Got it,” Tag said. “So you’re creating an encyclopedia of the local wildlife?”

“A little more than that,” Hannah said. “I’ve also got the unique opportunity to see what happens to the plants and animals here as they’re affected by human colonization.”

Tag nodded. “You get to see how biocontaminants like anthropogenic viruses and bacteria affect them. Probably get to watch what happens on an epigenetic as well as an ecological level, I imagine.”

Hannah poked his shoulder. “Sounds like you know a bit more science than your average bumbling SRE diplomat.”

“Science is a passing interest of mine,” Tag said, trying to cover his gaffe. He’d been so caught up in talking with Hannah that he’d almost given himself away.

“And speaking of passing interests,” Sofia said, pushing away from the table, “I think I’ll leave you two to it. Wasn’t tired before we came in here, but between the beer and conversation, I think I’m good to go.”

“So soon?” Hannah asked.

“Not soon enough,” Sofia said, stretching. “Night.”

She left the bar, attracting the curious glances of a couple colonists. Tag and Hannah continued talking for a while. He tried not to seem too knowledgeable about biology, but it was impossible to not ask Hannah about her work or what she had discovered here. She seemed to appreciate his interest. That was good, because he appreciated her charm and the curve of those lips when she smiled while she talked. After the crowd dwindled to a few colonists chatting in a corner and a yawning barkeep, Tag found himself deep into his fourth beer when another question popped into his mind.

“This might be out of left field,” he said, “but Cho and Burton mention something about the Imoogi. Is that a native animal here?”

“Ah, the Imoogi,” Hannah said. “Much more than an animal. That’s the indigenous race.”

Tag’s brow furrowed. He hadn’t read anything about any sentient beings on Orthod. Surely the SRE reports would’ve mentioned something about them. Unless, that is, they were in the classified reports Doran hadn’t had time to request and receive. But why would the presence of an indigenous race be classified?

“I’m not surprised. We’ve been operating in a kind of black hole down here,” Hannah said. “The SRE controls all the space traffic, courier drones included. Nothing gets on or off this planet without their approval, thanks to the planetary defense system they’ve set up. It’s supposedly in the colonists’ best interests.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m not sure why they’ve hidden the existence of the Imoogi, but it is what it is. Three hells, maybe you’d have a better idea, being a cog in the bureaucracy. It’s beyond me.”

“What can you tell me about them?”

“They’re kind of the bogeymen on this planet. From what I’ve heard, the colonists made a deal with them when they first landed here. At least, Burton did. They’re a completely nautical race, so I don’t know of a single soul beside Burton who has actually seen them. All the same, she told us they promised to leave us alone if we leave them alone.”

That sparked yet another question. “Those missing marines. Could that be the Imoogi’s doing?” Tag asked.

“Maybe,” Hannah said. “But it could also just as easily be one of the colonists. I don’t know. I try to keep my head down and stay out of that business. A few civilians recently went missing, too.”

“That wouldn’t happen to be the Coopers or the Lamberts, would it?”

Hannah raised an eyebrow. “What are you, a detective? The Coopers and the Lamberts disappeared two weeks ago. The colonists blame the marines, and the marines blame the colonists, and sometimes they all blame the Imoogi.”

Tag considered this. “That’s why the wall’s being built.”

“Yeah,” Hannah said. “Won’t do any good.”

Tag gulped the rest of his beer. “What do you think is going on?”

“Honestly, it’s probably the marines and a fringe group of colonists playing politics,” Hannah said. “Then again, as strange as this side of the galaxy is, I wouldn’t put it past some other species to come down and start abducting people from their beds before disappearing back into the stars.”

She laughed, and Tag forced himself to do the same. He feared how much truth might be behind such a joke. Whole families and trained soldiers didn’t just disappear without a trace.

“Whatever is going on here, it sounds complicated,” Tag said, forgetting for a second he was the one supposedly assigned to untangle this mess.

“You’ll have your hands full, that’s for sure,” Hannah said. “And now you can see why I try to stay out of it. I’m a simple person who just wants to do a little science. Nothing wrong with that.”

“I can see.” In Tag’s mind’s eye, he saw the Argo’s lab, back when it had been his little corner of the ship with only a single assistant to aid his work. There had been no worries about fighting Drone-Mechs and saving humanity from extinction. “I have to admit, I’m a bit jealous.”

Hannah tapped his arm again. “Don’t be. It’s not nearly as glamorous as it sounds.” She withdrew her hand, but Tag saw a line of green edging from beneath her sleeve.

“Tattoo?” Tag asked.

Pulling back her sleeve up to her elbow, Hannah revealed a dragon roping around her arm. Its scales glimmered—it was no doubt one of those jellyfish-gene-infused tattoos capable of changing color. “Yeah,” Hannah said almost dreamily. “It’s a dragon.”

“I can see that,” Tag said, laughing. “I don’t have any, myself. Why did you get it?”

“Before I came to Orthod, I had some business on Earth. I took time off to explore some of the eastern parts of Asia. There were these beautiful temples everywhere with carvings of dragons and phoenixes, incense burning at the altars of all the gods. I’m not particularly religious, but it was a spiritual experience.”

“So the temple artwork inspired your tattoo?”

“A little patience would do you good, Brewer.” Her fingers traced over the dragon. “I asked a woman at one of the temples what the symbols meant. We talked for a couple hours or so about spirituality and history and the difference in mentalities between those raised in Western versus Eastern Earth cultures. One thing really stuck out to me—the dragon.”

“You’re into big, scaly monsters?”

“It’s so much more than that. It represents the challenges of the future, all the choices we have to make, all the changes facing us as everything around us fluctuates and evolves. We can either remain rigid in our ways and be forgotten.” She took a swig of beer. “Or we can choose to face the dragon head on. Be like the dragon. Flexible. Adaptable. We have to accept that our fate is in the future and that to get there we must be willing to change. To evolve with the world.”

“It’s a nice sentiment,” Tag said. “Very fitting for a scientist discovering how native life changes in the presence of alien influences.”

“You’ve got that right.” Hannah laughed.

Maybe it was the beer, but Tag liked the melodic sound of her laughter and wanted to hear it again. For a moment, he forgot the imminent war threatening to sweep over humanity like a tidal wave. What he did remember was how long it had been since he’d had any kind of real female companionship outside his rather tame relationships with his crew.

Gods, it sounded so sterile thinking about it like that.

Hannah made a gesture of looking at her wrist terminal. “You want to check out the lab sometime?”

“Certainly,” Tag said. “It sounds interesting.”

He found himself wishing she would invite him there now.

“Great,” she said. “Just let me know when you’ve got some free time between fighting fires with Cho and Burton. Been nice meeting you.”

After Hannah left, Tag wandered back to the houses where he and the crew were staying. The 3-D fabricators hummed nearby, working diligently into the night to construct the wall around the town. The sound of Hannah’s laughter lingered in his ears as he walked. Maybe he was being too optimistic, but at least there was a bright spot in what appeared to be an otherwise rocky future. He crept back toward his bed, careful not to wake Sofia, Bull, and Lonestar, who had bunked in this house with him. Lucky was already curled up at the foot of his bed.

There would be plenty of challenges ahead. He couldn’t let the chaos of Orthod politics distract him from his crew’s primary mission. His goal wasn’t to heal Orthod but to figure out how Starinski was involved and whether there was some kind of Collector brainwashing going on. Before his eyes closed and exhaustion wrapped its smoky tendrils around him, carrying him away to sleep, a thought flittered through his fading consciousness.

Be like the dragon.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

––––––––

“So, did you get to know the locals last night?” Sofia asked Tag with a grin.

Lonestar gazed up from her breakfast with an expectant look, while Bull continued mashing noisily at his.

Tag chugged a cup of coffee. “Well enough,” he said, ignoring Sofia’s jibe. “Although I’m worried today’s meetings won’t go so smoothly.”

Lucky sat on her haunches, carefully cleaning each individual scale on her legs. She let out a purring growl as if she were agreeing with Tag. A knock at the door was abruptly followed by Coren entering.

“Sofia,” Coren said, sounding agitated. “You’ve got to help me. I thought being an anthropologist meant studying another culture.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” she said.

“Greg appears to think it’s the other way around. He won’t stop interrogating me about Mechanics. I can’t even pretend to be an anthropologist with him around. The human is really beginning to annoy me.”

There was another knock at the door. For a species not usually known for emotional range, Coren looked frightened.

“Coren, you still around?” a voice called in. “I wanted to ask you something, if you’ve got a moment.”

“That’s him,” Coren whispered. “Please get this insolent human off my back.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Sofia opened the door. “He’s right in here!”

Coren shot her a venomous look as he went back out to meet the amateur historian.

“The rest of us might as well get moving, too,” Tag said.

“Aye, Captain,” Lonestar said, adjusting the strap on her pulse rifle. “Should we make a security sweep to check for angry colonists?”

Her tone implied she was joking, but he caught a glimmer in her eye that said maybe it actually wasn’t such a bad idea.

“Get to it,” Tag said, swirling a finger in the air.

Bull and Lonestar lumbered out the front door. A few minutes later, they returned with the all-clear. Tag joined them, and together they strode toward the edge of town. A freestanding building was perched atop a nearby hill. No paved road led to it, but a path in the grass had been trampled until it was brown and dead. Tag started up the well-worn trail, wondering how many times Cho and Burton had been up this hill in attempt to make amends or demands—and, before Cho, how many other marines had tried to work with the colonists.

The marines’ camp was on the other side of the hill. It looked like a typical SRE military facility with barracks and warehouses daubed in brown and green paint. A huge swath of land was scorched black several hundred meters away, which he guessed was the location where smaller spacecraft, like shuttles, landed and took off. Behind the buildings, waves lapped a rocky shore, and 3-D fabricators were slowly patrolling the perimeter of the base to construct a second wall.

“Looks like when one person gets a fence, everyone wants one,” Bull said.

“That’s how it always worked on the ranch,” Lonestar said. “Sure is a shame when people start cutting up that land. Makes it all ugly and unfriendly.”

“I think that’s the point here,” Bull said. “Marines and colonists don’t want the others in their business. We got to be careful we don’t get too wrapped up in it, too.”

“You’re right,” Tag said. “Remember what we came here for. Either of you notice anything odd, let me know.”

Tag steeled himself before entering the squat building. He tried to recall all the advice Doran had imparted to him about dealing with tense diplomatic situations. She had said the most important aspect was simply listening to both sides, ensuring they both at least felt heard. Mediation couldn’t take place if they thought he was coming in with his own hidden agendas. Tag sighed. It would take an extended effort to appear to the colonists like he wasn’t just another crony sent down to subjugate them—time that would be better spent investigating Starinski Labs or collaborator recruitment.

Inside, Burton and Cho were standing across the room from each other. Between them was a conference table with four chairs. Judging by the complete silence and icy glares, he hadn’t interrupted a cordial conversation.

“I would say it’s a pleasure to see you both this morning,” Tag said, “but I have a feeling that I’d regret that statement in a few minutes.”

That got a smirk from Cho and a slight laugh from Burton.

All right, Brewer. Nice start.

Bull and Lonestar stood behind him. A couple of marine escorts guarded the door on the marines’ side of the room, and a trio of colonists with sheathed plasma blades leaned against the colonists’ wall. “Why don’t we sit down?” Tag asked. He took the first chair, followed by Burton and Cho.

He debated where to start this conversation. The tension in the air was thick, and one wrong turn in conversation would undoubtedly end this discussion before it started. Tag decided to approach diplomacy the same way he approached medicine. Start asking questions, probing for root of the problem.

Couldn’t be too hard, right?

Then he looked between Burton and Cho. Burton had a bland smile plastered across her face. It was the same expression Tag had seen on the faces of bureaucrats and politicians throughout the SRE. There was a certain derisive quality to it that said, “I value your opinion, but I have no intention of agreeing with you.” Equally unapproachable was the permanent scowl Cho wore, which said something like, “She’s wrong, and we’re not getting anywhere until she moves out of my way.”

“I’m going to give you both the opportunity to speak while I make some notes,” Tag said. “Let’s start with Governor Burton. Tell me what’s been happening here.”

“Thank you, Ambassador Brewer,” Burton said in a way that almost made Tag feel like she respected him. Almost. “We, the colonists of the Principality of Orthod, have been unlawfully subjugated by SRE rule.”

“Bullshit,” Cho said. “You’re an SRE citizen just like the rest of us.”

Burton waved a hand dismissively at Cho. “This is exactly the dimwitted response we get from the marines rotating in and out of here every year or two. New platoon, same ignorance.”

“Ignorance, my ass,” Cho said. “It shouldn’t be so hard for you to understand.” He jabbed a finger into the table. “This is an SRE planet. Therefore, you are an SRE citizen, and you will obey SRE law. I’m here to make sure that happens.”

“What you fail to understand is that this is not an SRE planet,” Burton said, her tone surprisingly patient. “We established Orthod as an independent colony without the SRE’s help. This place is the result of our hard work.”

“And the investment of SRE corporations,” Cho said. “Don’t pretend this is all your own doing.”

Tag hoped neither of them noticed his eyes widening at that statement. He made a mental note to circle back to that point later. “All right,” Tag said. “I’m beginning to see where this animosity between the SRE and Orthod is coming from.” Burton gave him a condescending smile, and Cho raised a brow. Both of them seemed to sense he was out of his league. A single thought fluttered through his mind: be the dragon. “It’s obvious these issues have been dragging on for some time. I want to change that now. Frankly, there’s more to worry about in this universe than a trifling dispute between a few hundred humans on a planet like this.”

He looked at Burton first. “I can’t tell you how disappointed I was by this rock when we landed here. Orthod will never be an economic hub. It’s not even in a strategic location to serve as a resupply satellite. You’re fighting for an ideology—independence—and I can appreciate that. But all the same, you’ve got to ask yourself at what cost.”

Cho grinned—until Tag started in at him.

“For whatever gods-forsaken reasons, the SRE wants to maintain control of this planet. They’ve stationed a handful of marines here to keep the colonists in line, and you can’t even manage that. The SRE isn’t supporting their planetary claims with a single starship stationed here, much less an active fleet. This isn’t exactly a prestigious posting. Your importance in the grand scheme of things isn’t half what you think if you’ve been sent to babysit Orthod.”

Cho and Burton were both glaring at him. Tag had succeeded in unifying them. Of course, they were unified in how infuriated they were with him, but it was a start.

“All the same, it’s obvious you both have a vested interest in this place,” Tag continued, now forcing himself to adopt Burton’s measured tone while ensuring his expression was filled with Cho’s intensity. It wasn’t easy. “And for whatever reason, the SRE wants us all here, and they want us all to get along. I hate to break it to you both, but neither the marines nor the colonists are going anywhere.”

“Give me a break,” Cho said. “The SRE wouldn’t have sent us if they didn’t want these damn colonists to fall in line or get the three hells off this planet.”

“If the SRE really wanted the colonists gone, they would have taken care of it already. If they wanted the colonists to have this place, they really don’t lose much by withdrawing the marines.” He shrugged. “Or maybe, with everything else going on in the galaxy, Orthod has been all but forgotten by the SRE. Choose to believe what you want, but the point is, neither of you are moving anytime soon.”

Now for a bit of truth. “Three hells, you can both probably tell I’m not an important ambassador. The SRE doesn’t care enough to send their best talent here.” Cho was fuming, and Burton’s lips were straight, her eyes narrowed. The men and women lined up along the room shifted uncomfortably in Tag’s periphery. “I can’t pretend to know the SRE’s reasons for treating this situation like they have. They only thing I do know is that we’re all on Orthod together, and we are faced with the very necessary and difficult task of learning to get along.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

––––––––

Mediating the conversation between Cho and Burton was like herding ice gods. Neither of them would drop their guard while the other was in the room. After suggesting one-on-one meetings, he finally called the conference to a halt. The revelation that private groups had financed the initial colonization efforts on Orthod still rang in his mind, and he needed time to think.

“Ambassador Brewer, can I have a word alone?” Burton asked after Cho and his marines filed out, gesturing to her people and then Bull and Lonestar.

“Certainly,” Tag said. At his feet, Lucky let out something akin to a bark. “You care about her?”

“Your pet?” Burton laughed. “As long as she can’t talk. I want to speak with you off the record.”

Tag nodded then gestured for Bull and Lonestar to leave. Burton’s colonists did likewise. One of the women paused at the doorway, a hand on her sheathed knife.

“You sure, Governor?” she asked.

“Yes, Sandra, thank you,” Burton replied. When the door closed, she looked at Tag. Her mask cracked, replaced by a weary expression. “You’re truly a neutral party in this?”

“As neutral as I can be,” Tag said. “At the end of the day, my paycheck comes from the SRE. But that doesn’t mean I won’t be honest with you.”

“Good,” Burton said.

Are you helping to abduct marines and brainwash them? Tag wanted to ask. Instead, he decided to take things a little slower. “Tell me why you came to Orthod, and why you all have stayed. Why you don’t want the SRE here. I want to hear the story in your own words, not the reports the SRE gave me.”

“We picked Orthod,” Burton began, “because it was just livable enough. You were quite accurate in saying natural resources are limited here. That was one of the reasons we chose this place. We figured that colonizing a planet of little interest to the SRE might be the best way to ensure we’re left alone.”

“That’s reasonable,” Tag said, waiting for her to continue.

“At the time, terraforming equipment was also affordable enough with a little financing or venture backing, so that’s what we did. We pooled our money from our salaries, businesses, what have you, and took off to Orthod.”

“Seems a little brash,” Tag said. “Coming out here with no support, no ties to the SRE. What would have happened if you’d failed?”

“We knew the risks.” Her answer was curt, but behind it Tag could see the depth of what was unsaid.

“Governor,” Tag said, “maybe I’m wrong, but I don’t get the feeling that the original settlers came out here like a teenager setting out to backpack around Earth. You had to have support, financing.”

“It was either do or die. That’s how repressed we felt while working for the SRE before we started life here.”

Tag didn’t buy it. She was hiding something. And she wasn’t even doing it well. It was as if she wanted him to find out her secret. “What aren’t you telling me? I need to know the whole story. I want to do right by both you and the SRE, but that doesn’t happen if we’re withholding information from each other.”

A grin crossed Burton’s face. “Withholding information? Gods, that’s exactly what’s been happening to us for years. No answers from the SRE. All our communications off this rock are controlled and censored by the SRE. If we ever tried to launch our own courier drone, the planetary defense systems would knock it out.”

“I see,” Tag said. “I’ll deal with that when I talk to Cho. But for now, I still don’t believe you or your colonists jumped into hyperspace without coordinates. You’re smarter than that.”

Burton sighed, looking away for a moment. “The SRE will never leave us alone, will they?”

“I’m afraid I can’t give you a straight answer to that.”

Burton stared hard at him as if to remind Tag what he had just said about withholding information.

“Really, I can’t,” Tag said. “But if I were to guess, no. They aren’t leaving.”

“We have no chance of being truly independent.”

Tag wasn’t sure if that was a statement or a question. Either way, he couldn’t help but think about the Collectors and Drone-Mechs and all the other horrors he had seen in his short career as the Argo’s captain. If Burton knew what was out there, she wouldn’t want true independence. SRE offered protection, safety. Then again, maybe she did know what was out there. Maybe this was all a ploy.

Maybe she was a collaborator.

Burton looked away. Tag waited in silence. He could see she was going to tell him something important. Something that might change the tone of their conversation. Prodding her wouldn’t hasten its unveiling. He had to be patient.

Finally, she turned to him. Her shoulders and face had drooped, the politician’s smile gone. “You were right. We didn’t come to Orthod without a failsafe. We had a backer.”

There was Tag’s opening. “I was a last-minute choice for this mission,” he said, trying to cover his lack of knowledge, “so I don’t have a list of all the investors with a stake in Orthod.”

“I’m not surprised you don’t know who our investors are. I’m not certain the marines know, either.”

Tag’s heart thudded against his ribcage. Good gods, this had to be it.

“We weren’t the only ones interested in a remote planet with few resources,” Burton continued. “These individuals approached me, Lindquist, and a few of the others through surrogates. We suspected something fishy when they claimed they wanted an outworld resupply station for their light-distance transportation network. But we were desperate and struck a deal with them. They would stay out of our hair, and we would stay out of theirs. They planned to construct a satellite station on the opposite side of the planet.”

“And you accepted this offer?”

“We did, for better or worse,” Burton said. “They offered us a free ride off this rock if we decided Orthod wasn’t going to work out.”

“And they’re still around?” Tag asked.

“No,” Burton said. “Not long after we saw the last of their ships take off, the SRE moved in with a platoon of marines. No explanation. They just said this was SRE territory now. We were in hyperspace at the time. It wasn’t until later they claimed we were here illegally. They said we could either comply with SRE laws and pay taxes like normal citizens or be ejected from the planet. We paid our taxes but didn’t get any vote on how the SRE treated Orthod. So we stopped paying those taxes, and although they keep sending new platoons of marines from time to time, they haven’t tried to make us leave. And so it goes.”

“So it goes,” Tag repeated, his mind grappling with this new information. “Have there been any communications with these investors since?”

“No. I told you, all comms to and from this planet have been controlled by the SRE. Even when our friends were here, we never spoke directly to them. Once they had purchased the equipment we needed, we would only contact them in case of an emergency evacuation.”

“Bizarre,” Tag said.

“Looking back with the benefit of hindsight, it was strange. But nevertheless, they were true to their word. If the SRE has some problem with them, they’re looking around on the wrong planet now. The only ones left here are the colonists.”

Tag nodded, but then caught himself. “Well, that isn’t entirely true, is it? There are also the Imoogi.”

Governor Burton sighed heavily. “Very early on, before the SRE officially arrived, the Imoogi showed up.”

“I thought they were indigenous.”

“They were,” Burton said. “I mean, they are. But they’re a completely aquatic race. We didn’t realize they were here until they surfaced one day and made contact with us. I believe theirs is more or less a democratic society, and I spoke to their version of a Prime Minister once. We made peace with them. Made up a treaty and everything. They had once traveled the stars, he told me. While they found the idea of space travel alluring, the danger of dealing with other races had convinced them the stars weren’t where they belonged. They worship, no surprise, a water deity, and their central tenet is being satisfied with your life as it is. It wasn’t hard to convince them to retreat into Orthod’s waters once we had assured them they were safe from us. That was the first and last time I saw any of the Imoogi.”

“I’m surprised they didn’t try to throw you off when they found you all on their planet,” Tag said.

“I was just as surprised,” Burton said. “They didn’t say much about it, but they did imply they had a similar deal set up with the, uh, investors on the other side of Orthod. I would be willing to bet there had been some kind of conflict there that convinced them they shouldn’t mess with humans. But I never asked, and the Imoogi have left us alone since.”

“This is helpful,” Tag said. “I’ll have my anthropologist see what he can dig up, but in the meantime, I have to ask: Do you think the Imoogi are responsible for the disappearance of your missing colonists?”

“You might ask Cho about that. His marines have a tendency to run a little wild. That’s unusual, if you ask me. Other platoons before his have been much more disciplined. It wouldn’t surprise me if they were responsible.” She shuddered. Tag didn’t think it was acting. “With the accusations they’ve been throwing around, I think they abducted our colonists for revenge.”

“I see,” Tag said. “But he’s said nothing about having captives.”

“That’s right. He has threatened us before, though. Said, and I quote, ‘Accidents happen on the frontier.’”

Tag nodded and made a note. “What do you think happened to his marines?”

Burton’s face froze once more into a mask. With all the weariness in it, the openness that had been there before seemed to have evaporated. “I don’t know.”

“Is it possible some of the colonists really did have something to do with it?”

“Possible? I suppose anything is possible. But my people wouldn’t abduct anyone. And if they had, I would know about it.”

Tag wanted to press her further, but he could sense that this line of questioning had cooled her willingness to exchange information. Besides, a conversation with Cho was long overdue. He needed a break to collect himself for his next interview. He hadn’t realized just how mentally exhausting this would be.

Next time, he thought, Sofia gets to play the diplomat.

“Well,” Tag said, making a show of looking at his wrist terminal. “I do appreciate your time, and I’m sure you have matters to attend to in town. I’ll want to meet again tomorrow.”

“Of course,” Burton said, standing. She gave him a vapid smile. “It was a pleasure.”

She left, shutting the door behind her. Lucky jolted upright, woken by the sound of the door hitting the frame. Tag scratched under the Rizzar’s chin.

“We certainly have our work cut out for us, don’t we, girl?”

She mewled in agreement.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

––––––––

Cho sauntered into the conference room. Lucky bristled at the sight of him, but her growling settled as he approached the table. After she had thrown herself into the fray during the fight on the Montenegro, he wouldn’t take the creature for granted ever again. She had seen the threat of violence before anyone else in that room, and Tag couldn’t ignore her reactions toward people now. He kept one eye on the Rizzar until she closed her eyes again. It took a second before her breathing returned to the lazy, deep rhythm of slumber.

“I know why you keep her around,” Cho said, pulling out the seat across from Tag. He dropped into it.

Tag stiffened. “You do?” If news of the assassination attempt—and his role in preventing it—had reached Orthod, it could ruin Tag’s efforts to dig out the collaborators’ secrets here.

“Of course.” The big marine offered the back of his hand to Lucky. She opened one eye and sniffed his hand. A forked tongue whipped out of her mouth and traced up to the marine’s wrist. With a slight grin, Cho patted Lucky’s head, and she closed her eyes in contentment. “I was stationed on Epsilon-Gamma-Four back when I was a private. It was my first deployment. There was an SRE colony there, too, a few decades older than the Principality. I saw a couple of kids picking on this dog, hitting it with sticks.” The marine’s cheeks flushed red, and his eyes fixed on the wall, staring at a point only he could see. “Sergeant let me keep the pup in the barracks as long as I fed it scraps from my own meals and nothing else. Dog, we named him. Real creative, I know.”

He laughed to himself. “But I was a private. Creativity wasn’t one of my responsibilities. Anyway, the damn thing wouldn’t leave my side. Grew up to be a real big son of a bitch. Even followed me on runs and tried to do our calisthenics with us. Became something of the platoon’s mascot.”

Cho reached down to pat Lucky’s head again.

“Just looking at her, I can tell she ain’t no ordinary pet, is she? There’s something special about the bond of an animal and someone who rescued ‘em, whether it’s from a station shelter or whatever. I can see it in her eyes. The way she seems to trust only you.”

“Uh, yeah,” Tag said. “You hit the nail on the head on that one.” He didn’t want their conversation to stray too far in that direction. Trying to explain how he had rescued Lucky would only invite more questions about Tag’s background and his actual purpose here. “But I’m afraid we don’t have time to talk about pets, and we don’t need to inflate this one’s ego more than it already is.”

“Thinks she’s a queen, doesn’t she?”

“That she does.” Tag tapped on his wrist terminal. “Let’s get started. You know how the SRE is. They want results, and they want it now.”

A rough guffaw escaped Cho’s lips. “Results. Either something’s changed with the SRE, or they really don’t give a shit about Orthod.”

“What do you mean?” Tag asked.

“Those damn colonists are plotting something,” Cho said. “I’m absolutely certain. I had hoped you were here to do something about it. Because all I get from command are orders to stand down. Don’t engage. All that bullshit. They give us guns, but we ain’t allowed to shoot anybody. It doesn’t make a damn bit of sense.”

“Why do you think the colonists are plotting something?”

One of Cho’s hands balled into a fist, quivering on the table. “They took my men. Four of them.”

“And you’re sure it’s not the Imoogi?”

“Are you kidding me?” Cho asked. “Damn lizard people don’t care about us. Why would they? The only reason I know they exist at all is because Maxine told us when we got here. You ask me, it’s a fucking lie she tells her people to keep them in line. Keeps the kiddies in bed at night, that kind of thing.”

“All right,” Tag said, drumming his fingers on the table. “Do you have any evidence that the colonists abducted your marines?”

“Do I need evidence?” Cho asked. “My men didn’t abduct themselves.”

“Sometimes, on long deployments—”

“Gods, you’ve been listening to Maxine, aren’t you? They didn’t just get drunk and jump off a cliff somewhere. We get a little bored around here, sure. But we’re not incompetent. We’re goddamned marines.”

“Okay, okay. Got it. You know I have to ask. I need to understand all facets of the conflict here.”

“All facets, eh?” Cho asked. “Look, I’ve been worried about an insurrection from day one. These colonists don’t seem like much, but they’re smarter than they look. How do you think they survived here? Whether they’re hiding weapons somewhere or they made their own, I’ve no doubt they’re armed and planning something. Otherwise, why wouldn’t they be more scared of us?”

Tag couldn’t tell if the man was paranoid or not. Maybe Cho was completely rational and Tag was the naïve one. Maybe it was a little bit of both.

“They don’t want us here. I tell you what, I wouldn’t be surprised if Maxine pulls some kind of attack on us then blames it all on the so-called Imoogi. It’ll be months before the SRE responds, with our luck, and what are they going to do?”

“That all sounds pretty, uh—”

“Paranoid? Think I’m a delusional type, don’t you?” Cho leaned back in his chair, balancing it on two legs. “I don’t blame you. A few months ago, I would’ve felt the same way listening to me. But I’ll tell you something else. The SRE once paid attention to us. Someone up there sent down some extra goodies on our last resupply shipment. I asked for listening bugs, you know, to keep an ear on the town. I just wanted to get an idea of what the three hells was going on.”

“What did you hear?” Tag asked.

A shit-eating grin crossed Cho’s face. “Not a goddamn thing. Can you believe that?”

“I don’t understand. If you didn’t hear anything incriminating, wouldn’t that prove the colonists were innocent?”

“You don’t get it, Brewer,” Cho said. He spoke slowly to emphasize each word. “Nothing. At. All. Not a word. Just a bunch of static. The bugs didn’t work. Wrote it off as a bad batch, tried some more. Same results.”

“So the SRE equipment failed.”

“I’ve seen that same shit used all across the galaxy. Never more than one bug in a batch failed, and only after considerable use,” Cho said. “Either the SRE purposelessly sent us bugs that didn’t work—which doesn’t make a lick of sense—or the colonists have their own anti-spying measures in the town. Sounds like you’ve got more brainiacs in your crew than I do, so why don’t you ask them if it’s possible? See what they think.”

“Sure,” Tag said, still a little confused. “I’ll do that.” Cho’s rant had derailed the conversation completely, and Tag had almost forgotten the questions he’d meant to ask the marine. He feared the grav impeller had come loose from the starship, though, and there wasn’t much he could do to keep control over it. “You mentioned your marines get a little bored. What exactly did you mean by that?”

Cho folded his huge arms over his chest. “You a mediator or a detective, Brewer?”

“I’m just trying to get the whole picture.”

“Question still stands.”

“Look,” Tag said, trying not to sound too exasperated, “I want to know if Burton’s complaints about your marines hold any truth. What do your marines do when they’re bored?”

“Seems like an awfully petty thing to focus on,” Cho said. “We got much worse problems than my marines trying to blow off some steam after being stuck on a planet without so much as a goddamned pub. And you know damn well the colonists aren’t letting us share a drink with them in their little piss-factory.”

“Really, Lieutenant,” Tag began again. “I’m just trying to do my job.”

“It’s pretty clear-cut to me. SRE sent us down here to keep law and order, but they don’t want to give us the authority or tools to do it. Don’t touch the colonists. Don’t look at ‘em. Even when they abduct my people, I can’t do anything that might threaten the colonists’ civil liberties. It’s getting goddamned ridiculous. You want to send a message to the SRE? Tell ‘em to let us do something about this mess.” He slammed a fist on the table. “Then, when you’re done with that, tell ‘em to fix what we got up here. Half the terminals in the barracks don’t work, and we have to program the damned fabricators by hand ‘cause the AI don’t work. Marines ain’t engineers. Nobody trained us for that. And every time this planet so much as thinks about an earthquake, our terminals go down. We lose control over the entire planetary defense network.”

“Perhaps one of the colonists could assist you,” Tag suggested. “I believe several of them were—”

“If the goddamn colonists knew what was happening, they’d be sending up courier drones every time it happened, spreading all kinds of propaganda and nonsense to neighboring colonies.”

Tag was speechless for a moment. He really had no idea why the SRE had ignored Orthod’s plight. No wonder Cho was pissed. Steam was practically venting from the man’s ears, and Tag didn’t blame him. He wanted to go back to the question of the bored marines—where they went and what they did in their free time—but he feared raising the subject again would be like asking Cho to walk on a bed of plasma-blades.

“This is all helpful,” Tag said. “And, I regret to say, news to me.”

“I bet it is.”

“Maybe it’s best we call it a day for now,” Tag said. “Let’s meet again tomorrow.”

Cho gave a curt nod and started to get up from his seat.

“I’ll make sure your requests get back to the SRE,” Tag said. “They need to hear about the conditions of the camp and the problems with the network.”

“Sounds splendid,” Cho said with evident sarcasm.

The marine left. A second later, Bull and Lonestar spilled inside.

“Long day,” Bull said.

“Was that a question?” Tag asked.

“Just a statement. Pretty uneventful outside. I take it things were different in here.”

“Very much so.”

Lonestar leaned back against one of the walls. “So, what’s next on the docket, Cap?”

“Don’t know about you two, but I could use a drink.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

––––––––

The local pub was as busy as it had been the previous night. Colonists fresh from work, with dirt still on their coveralls, lounged about the space. When Tag entered with Bull and Lonestar at his side, the room seemed to go quiet, as if a pack of predators had suddenly entered the woods. Most of the colonists avoided making eye contact with the trio. Those who did glared at the marines.

One by one, conversations resumed as normal, but the unfriendly looks remained.

“Tag!” a voice called.

Tag looked about the room. He saw Hannah beckoning to him and the marines. Eager to find a familiar face in the otherwise standoffish crowd, he waded through the colonists to meet her. She motioned for them to join her at a table with two other colonists.

“These are a couple of my lab assistants.” Hannah gestured to a slender man stooped over his glass and then to a woman who had a cheerful smile and ruddy complexion. “Rodrigo and Steph.”

Tag introduced the marines and then asked Hannah, “What was with that welcome? Didn’t think I bothered anyone here last night.”

“It’s the marines,” she said. “Cho’s guys never step foot in here. It probably took them a second to realize those two were with you.”

It only took one beer before the group had moved past forced small talk and into more lively conversation. After the morning he’d had, Tag found himself listening more than speaking. He was taken off-guard when Rodrigo turned to him and asked, “So, how did you end up becoming a bureaucrat, Ambassador Brewer?”

“Please, call me Tag,” he said. “And to answer your question, I guess I just sort of stumbled into it. What about you? How did you end up on Orthod?”

Rodrigo grunted. “My family has always lived on SRE stations. Just cogs in the machine, you know? I wanted something different, a purpose.”  

“I’m in it for the adventure,” Steph said. She looked up at Bull and Lonestar. “How about you two? What are your stories?”

“Wanted to serve,” Bull said without further explanation.

“You’re not going to get much from him,” Lonestar said. “He’s about as talkative as a rock when it comes to strangers. Where I come from, we’re real friendly. I remember one time on the ranch...”

Tag tuned her out; he’d heard all of Lonestar’s stories at least once. Hannah’s eyes kept coming back to Tag while they chatted. He hated to admit he liked the attention. Eventually Hannah leaned back in her chair slightly and turned to face him as the lab assistants and marines—mostly Lonestar—continued their conversation about life among the stars.

“You look even more exhausted today than when I saw you last night,” Hannah said.

“That bad, huh?”

“Let’s just say I don’t envy your position,” Hannah said.

“Maybe I’ll do something easy with my next life—like be a scientist on a remote colony. Wander around a bit to pick up some samples, drop them off at my lab for my assistants to handle, then mosey off to the bar for a margarita.”

“Beer is all that’s offered, I’m afraid.”

“Not even gutfire?”

“I hear you can get that on the black market for cheap.”

Tag took a gulp of the grassy-tasting brew. It left an aftertaste like he’d swallowed a salad without dressing. “With beer this good, why would you go through the trouble?”

Hannah tapped the rim of her glass against his. “Cheers to that.” She finished off her glass and set it on the table. “You still interested in that lab tour?”

“Right now?”

“I’ve got to go back to check on a couple samples, and these guys need a break.” She motioned to the lab assistants, still engrossed in conversation with the marines. “Normally the assays I’ve got to run are pretty boring. It would be nice to have the company.”

“Sure,” Tag said. As they exchanged their goodbyes with the others and made their way to the door, Tag thought about everything he’d learned from his talks with Burton and Cho. He wondered if Hannah might have insight into the puzzle. She was smart and observant by nature. She spent most of her time in the field, so maybe she had noticed something that would help reveal who Tag’s real allies were on Orthod—and who might be the collaborators.

And three hells, even if she didn’t, he wanted to keep talking to her.

Hannah looked up at the darkening skies. The brightest of the stars had already appeared. Her dragon tattoo seemed to pulsate as they walked along. “It’s been so long since I’ve been up there.”

“Do you miss it?”

“Not traveling in a metal tube going at speeds faster than light,” she said. “But the excitement of being one of the first people to travel to a new place, to discover new life we’ve never seen before. To meet new challenges and study what has never been studied.” Her eyes met his, and Tag saw himself in her for a moment. Those were many of the reasons he had joined the SRE. “Maybe I’m getting sentimental, but the days leading up to Orthod might’ve been some of the best of my life. The sheer thrill of the unknown.”

“I can understand.”

Hannah laughed. “Can you? I mean, no offense, but you’re being shipped off to mediate conflicts in places that have already been settled, right? I don’t mean to sound derisive, but it’s not quite the same thing.”

“Maybe,” Tag said. He knew exactly how she felt but was frustrated he couldn’t say it. “But I’m still throwing myself into the unknown. I mean, can you imagine being alone in a room with Cho and Burton all day?”

“Sounds like a nightmare,” Hannah said with a smile. She gestured toward a two-story building that looked no different from all the others. “This is me.” She opened the door a crack. “You ever been in a lab?”

“A couple,” Tag said.

“Great,” Hannah said. “Then maybe you’ll appreciate how awesome this place actually is.”

She ushered him in. With a gesture over a terminal, the lights flicked on.

“Whoa,” Tag said.

“Yeah.” A proud smile filled Hannah’s face.

The equipment here would make even the SRE researchers on Earth jealous. Chromatography banks gleamed under the ceiling lights, and nanoscopes stood ready on lab benches. Huge biosafety hoods waited for a user to manipulate sterile test samples. All manner of bulbous and twisted glassware was set up for purposes Tag could only guess. The entirety of the Argo’s lab could fit in the apparently unused corner of Hannah’s lab where a couple of empty benches and crates sat.

“How many people did you say work here?” Tag asked.

“At any given time, I have about a half dozen lab assistants,” she said. “Of course, my best assistants work all day and night with no complaint.”

Tag cocked his head, unsure what she meant. Then she gestured toward the second floor. Tentatively, Tag took the steps up. He heard the buzz of laboratory equipment and plodding of footsteps. There was a distinct, sterile smell that reminded him of a space station hospital wing. Upstairs, he found yet another lab space. A few colonists were still at work, inserting samples into various pieces of equipment and studying terminals. Between them strode a small army of assistants with silver skin to match the lab equipment.

“Lab droids,” Tag said. “Didn’t you say a nonprofit was funding this work?”

Again, Hannah gave him that slightly mischievous smile. “Let’s just say the nonprofit I work for has some very wealthy friends.”

“I’ll say,” Tag said. Then, remembering his role as a bumbling bureaucrat: “You’ll have to tell me what all these things do.”

“I don’t want to bore you,” she said. “How about the highlights? I can show you some of the samples we’re examining.”

“Samples? You mean actual flora and fauna from Orthod?”

“Yep,” she said. Her brow furrowed. Three hells, he thought, even that’s cute. “Unfortunately, the analysis is... destructive.”

“You have to sacrifice the creatures to analyze them?” Tag asked.

“Sacrifice? You’re sounding like a scientist, Brewer.” She poked his shoulder. “You really have been around a few labs, haven’t you?”

“I pick up jargon quick. It’s one of the pleasures of working in bureaucracy.”

“If things get tough with Cho and Burton, you’re welcome to join us here. I’ve trained worse assistants.”

“You don’t know how tempted I am to take you up on that.”

She laughed. “All right, before I get you in trouble...”

Tag followed her past a couple of the droids. They were inserting vials of emerald-green water into a machine that separated the samples into thousands of small wells. The samples were the same color as the water off the shore. “Is that from the ocean?”

“Observant,” she said. “Yes, it’s an algae-like plant. I think, at least. It might be more fungus than plant, really. It’s always a bit of a challenge to fit xeno life-forms into our Earth-based taxonomy.”

“I can imagine.”

“That algae stuff isn’t so exciting, but it serves as a good way to measure how the human colonists here are affecting local life-forms. Most of the bacteria, viruses, and other contaminants hitching a ride on our people don’t readily affect the indigenous life-forms.” She gestured to the algae-like samples again. “But eventually some of those bacteria adapt. The viruses, too. It’s an amazing process. Natural selection at work, on the nano and microscopic scale. For example, a strain of E. coli has found a new home in the algae. They’re spreading like crazy.”

“Sounds dangerous. Are you worried about a pandemic?”

“One hundred points for you,” Hannah said, clapping his shoulder. “The strain is normally not harmful to healthy humans. But since it has adapted to infect the algae, we fear these adaptations might alter the E. coli in ways that could be detrimental to human health.”

“Ah, interesting. Before, I thought you were only interested in protecting native life. But you’re also concerned about the colonists.”

Hannah leaned in as if she didn’t want any of the colonists to overhear. Tag could feel her warm breath across his cheek. “It’s a matter of practicality. The only way I can get these people to support my research is to pretend like I’m doing it for their benefit. I couldn’t give a rat’s ass, though.”

Tag pulled away slightly, watching her to see whether she was serious. That endearing grin crossed her face again, and he returned her smile, feeling a lightness in his chest.

“I’m joking,” she said. “Kind of.”

“I can admire the honest rationality. You and the Mechanics would get along well.”

“Hard enough getting along with the humans here. I wouldn’t want to add any aliens to the mix.” Hannah turned and leaned over a polyglass terrarium. She reached behind it and clicked on the light. “Check these guys out.”

When the light flickered on, it revealed a miniature landscape of dirt-caked rocks and a few scraggly plants. There was a simulated steam vent at the center of the terrarium. The air wavered above it, and if Tag focused, he could smell the bit of sulfurous gas leaking from the tank.

Hannah tapped on the top of the polyglass chamber, and a small hatch opened. From a nearby jar, she plucked a cricket-like creature and then dropped it into the terrarium.

“Watch,” was all she said.

The cricket-thing hopped toward the steam vent. As soon as it hit the air flowing up from the vent, it spread wide gossamer wings and floated, catching the updraft. Its dark wings sparkled as though studded with miniature stars.

“It’s beautiful,” Tag said.

“That’s not it. Just wait.”

“What—”

Tag’s question was cut short. A plant exploded into action, spreading out into a multi-clawed creature with too many little heads for Tag to count. Its jaws opened and slashed like so many miniature scythes. The cricket-thing never stood a chance.

“Good gods,” Tag said. “Those things are out there on Orthod?”

“This is an infant.” That smile crossed Hannah’s face. “You should see them when they get big.”

“Are they common?” Tag asked, wondering if his mission would take him outside the vicinity of the Principality of Orthod.

“Maybe sometime you can ride out there with me and find out.”

Tag laughed. “Maybe I will.”

“I’m serious,” Hannah said. “I mean, if you’re not busy, what about now?”

“Now?”

“You going to keep repeating me, or you going to give me an answer?” She gave him a teasing smirk. “Besides, what else could you be doing that’s better than this? Sleeping?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

––––––––

Hannah took Tag south of Orthod, toward one of the hills covered in winding treelike plants. For a while they drove in silence, Hannah focused on the untended path ahead, only the bouncing lights from her air car guiding the way. Tag was content to sit and watch the landscape roll by. Steam vents poured plumes of mist into the air, and birdlike animals dove to scoop up the insects hovering around the vents.

“Is that one of them?” Tag asked. He pointed toward what looked like a giant version of the plant he had seen in her lab. It seemed to shrink away when the headlights hit it.

“Yep, that’s one.” She put the air car into a stationary hover and killed the lights.

The plant waved back and forth. If Tag hadn’t known better, he would’ve thought it was the wind rustling its leafy branches. But none of the grass was moving, and neither were the leaves on the other treelike plants around it. Only the tall, scraggly plant.

“It’ll move like that for a while, and then...” Hannah leaned over to Tag, one hand on his shoulder. “Just wait for it.”

One of the birds swooped near the vent to snatch an insect. The plant sprang, toothed jaws forming from its leaves, and swallowed the bird. Then the plant went still again.

“At least it isn’t big enough to eat a human,” Tag said.

“No,” Hannah said, putting the air car into drive again. “But that won’t stop it from trying.” She held out her arm. This one didn’t have any tattoos, but there was another kind of artwork. Long white scars traced up around her elbow.

“Doesn’t look like fun,” Tag said.

“It wasn’t. Want to see something else?”

“Is it slightly less violent?”

“Slightly,” she said.

The air car pushed up the hill. Hannah wove between the mangrove-like trees growing around the steam vents. Each vent seemed to be its own ecosystem, with nocturnal beasties feeding off each other and it.

“There must be so many creatures here,” Tag said. He knew he probably looked like a kid watching a holofilm. For as many different planets as he’d been to, as many different life-forms as he’d seen, he never ceased to be amazed. He hoped he never became so jaded by his travels through the universe that he found the sight of new life boring.

“There are,” Hannah said. “It’s been a dream working out here. Just... amazing.”

“Amazing,” he agreed, studying her face.

A nagging voice of guilt crept at the back of his mind. First like an icy chill, then an almost nauseating tug at his innards. He should be doing something—anything—to find those Collectors. Not gallivanting about the countryside with Hannah, no matter how much he wanted to be out here.

But like she’d said, what else would he be doing right now? Sleeping? Surely he could trade a little exhaustion tomorrow for a chance to clear his head now. After all, he needed a break from the conflict he’d been embroiled in since he set foot on this planet.

“Here we are.” She stopped the air car and turned it off. The vehicle lowered to the ground, and they got out. “This is my favorite spot.”

She took him to where the hill crested. It became apparent then this wasn’t just a rolling hill. It ended abruptly in a cliff overlooking a wide bay that led to the ocean beyond. The water’s tranquil surface reflected the stars so clearly that it was impossible to distinguish where the sky met Orthod. It was as if Tag could leap from the cliff and dive into the stars themselves. No EVA suit, no Argo required.

Hannah sat down with her back against a tree and motioned for Tag to join her.

“This thing isn’t going to eat us, right?” Tag asked. He grinned to let her know he was joking.

“Not unless I tell it to.” She smiled as Tag sat next to her. “Maybe this sounds silly to you, with all the traveling we’ve both done, but it never ceases to amaze me how beautiful it all is.” Her eyes turned skyward. 

“No,” Tag said, and he meant it. “It never gets old. I used to think humans were nothing but a dust mote in the universe. But now, seeing how much I don’t know, how much is out there that we don’t know about, I think we’re even smaller than that.”

“It’s definitely humbling,” Hannah said. She sighed. “But as microscopic as we may be, we sure think a lot of ourselves. It takes some kind of ingrained, evolutionary bravery to strap ourselves in a metal tube and explore the unknown.” She used her finger to circle the stars. “Or maybe it’s just stupidity.”

“A little bit of both, I’m sure of it.”

They were both silent for a moment, admiring the serenity of all that lay before them, as if the universe was laid bare. Insects and birds chirped their soft melodies. Away from the sulfurous steam vents, the air was clearer and cleaner than anything Tag could remember. 

“The constellations are different here from the ones I remember as a kid,” Hannah said. “Humans are different from the day they first stepped onto Luna. They’re different from the first time they set off out of the solar system and different from when they first established a colony somewhere other than Earth. We are always changing, biologically, philosophically. As we spread out, we’re constantly establishing new cultures and ideas. Maybe the SRE can’t keep up with all the different microcosms of humanity anymore. Our species isn’t as united as it once was. We’re not all looking up at the same night sky anymore, you know?”

He caught a glimpse of her tattoo and its reactive ink, glimmering in the starlight, as she gestured over their heads. “Be the dragon,” Tag said. “Right? Change is inevitable, but we will face it. We will embrace it. At the end of the day, we all share a common bond. Earth is where we all came from. There will always be some unity in that.”

“I hope you’re right,” Hannah said. “Because I’ve seen how these people here are trying to assert their own identity. I’ve seen the subtle changes in the epigenetics of the life-forms on this planet, and if the colonists allowed me to test them, I bet I’d see the changes in them, too.”

“With colonization, that’s inevitable.”

“It is,” Hannah said, “and I’m aware I’m a bit of walking paradox, preaching about embracing change and then worrying about how humans are changing the indigenous life-forms they come into contact with.” She looked at him, her eyes locking with his. He sensed a fire behind them, a passion he sometimes recognized in the marines when they talked about their service or Sofia when she spoke about the Forinth, and even Coren when he described the beauty of Mechanic-made machinery. “Embracing change isn’t just about accepting our future in the stars. It’s about commanding that future. Taking control of it. We have the choice to merely face our fate or to be our fate. That’s what exploring the frontier is about. I just wish the SRE understood that better.”

“What do you mean?” Tag asked.

She laughed a little. “I’m getting ahead of myself. This is what happens when I don’t have anyone to talk to but diehard colonists or marines whose religion is the military. The SRE has been so slow to react to things out here. I’ve heard about the other colonies they’ve had trouble with, and every once in a while, a report filters through about some new unknown danger or threat. We’re so reactive as a species. I wish we’d be more proactive.”

Tag wanted to tell her about his mission, how even before he was facing off against the Collectors, he had been developing new synth-bio AI technologies and venturing off to make those proactive scientific discoveries she’d been talking about. But he couldn’t say a damn word about it. And besides, she was right. Even that mission had actually been a violent reaction to a new threat. 

“All this talk about being proactive,” Tag said, “isn’t that what science is all about? Unearthing the unknown, pushing us forward.”

“It is,” Hannah said. “Exactly. But when the SRE decided to lay claim to this planet, did they send any scientists or researchers to stay with the colonists? No, they sent the marines. It took a private group, Enviro-Cosmos, to bring me here. There are human beings living on this planet with no idea of how the local ecosystem affects them—or how they’re affecting it.”

Tag exhaled slowly. “I really can’t fault you on that one.”

His dreams of venturing into the unknown on a purely scientific venture with the Argo had been shattered when he had found it had actually been a covert military mission. Hannah was more right than she knew. His gaze swept over the delicate arch of her cheek, the subtle curve of her lip that made it seem as though she was just about to smile at some private joke. For so long, he’d been focused on missions and experiments and the goddamned end of the SRE.

But all that seemed to melt away as he leaned over and brushed his lips across hers. She kissed him back, softly at first but soon growing bolder. He let himself fall into her. Time seemed to slow, and a sense of peace overcame him. They were two humans connecting against the backdrop of the frontier. Somehow, despite the vast eternity of the universe, they were both here. Together.

Soon there was nothing between them. Just flesh touching flesh and the electricity of passion. When they were spent, Hannah lay on Tag’s chest. Her arm was draped over him, and Tag traced the glowing dragon, thanking the universe for these few moments of connection, this calm before facing the cold truth of reality once more. He found himself wishing he could convince Hannah to join them on the Argo. She would be a perfect fit—dedicated to science, willing to venture into the wild.

But how could he ask her when everything else he’d told her had been a lie? A tide of guilt washed through him, chilling the warmth from the moments they’d just shared. The connection between them was built on Tag’s covert service to the SRE.

As much as he wanted this to last, he knew it was ephemeral. It wouldn’t be long before his mission took him away from Orthod, away from her.

“Do you want to go back to my place tonight?” she asked, tracing a finger across his chest.

Yes, this would all end soon. Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not after a week. But for now, he could embrace this moment. Make it last a little bit longer.

“I’d love to,” he finally said.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

––––––––

Tag awoke to the sound of an explosion. He blinked past the bleariness, shooting up in the bed he was sharing with Hannah. Nightmares of the Drone-Mechs’ assault on the Argo filled his mind until he remembered where he was. 

“What’s going on?” Hannah asked groggily, pulling a blanket to her chest. Tag was already pulling on his clothes. Distant gunshots blasted in the night. There was a beat of silence followed by a chorus of sirens. They hit Tag’s eardrums with an almost-palpable force, and his stomach twisted into a knot. He didn’t know the cause of the sudden racket, but he did know one thing: he missed having his pulse pistol right then.

“I don’t know,” Tag said.

Hannah shook her head, her eyes wide. “Those are the alarms for... for an attack, I think.”

“I’m going to find my crew,” he said, making for the stairs.

Hannah grabbed his hand. “I’m locking down the lab. Whatever’s going on, we’ll be safer here.”

“It’s not my safety I’m worried about,” Tag said, shedding her grip. “I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go. This was lovely.” He kissed her cheek. It was nothing compared to what they’d shared last night, but he couldn’t stay.

A look of disappointment crossed Hannah’s face as he turned to rush down the stairs. She lived above her lab, and Tag nearly collided with one of the lab assistants, who was peering out a first-floor window. Tag barreled past the assistant, his heart pumping. Colonists were rushing between buildings. Some were screaming, but others moved in angry silence, grabbing any nearby tools they could use as weapons. Tag punched a button on his wrist terminal.

“What’s going on?” he asked over the public comms with his crew.

“No idea,” Bull said. “Lonestar and I are still in the bar. They’ve locked the place down.”

“Coren and I are safe,” Sofia said. “Lucky’s with us, too. We have no idea what’s happening, though.”

Tag’s pulse accelerated as silence wore on the comm line. Three members of his team weren’t answering. “Alpha? Sumo, Gorenado. Report in.”

He looked around wildly. The streetlights cast ghoulish shadows on the street. Cries from panicked civilians sounded in the distance. Tag turned down the street toward the medical clinic.

“Alpha! Sumo! Gorenado! Answer me!”

He started sprinting. The medical clinic was on the opposite side of town.

“Captain,” Bull called. “I’m heading to the clinic. We’ll meet you there!”

“Copy,” Tag managed.

“Us, too,” Sofia said.

Tag tried another contact on his wrist terminal, shouting over the hellish symphony of the sirens. “Governor, what is going on? I can’t raise the medical clinic.”

“I don’t know,” Burton said. “The Fosters are not responding. Before the gunshots, Samuel told me they were under attack.”

“Under attack?” Tag tried, ensuring he heard it right. “From the marines?”

“No,” Burton said. “The Imoogi.”

Tag accelerated, pushing his body to its limits. A coppery taste seeped into his mouth, his lungs burning.

Come on, Alpha. Sumo. Gorenado. Be okay, be okay.

Tapping on his wrist terminal, he made another call. “Lieutenant Cho, the Imoogi are attacking. I’m requesting backup.”

“Is this the same attack on the colonists Burton told me about?”

“Yes!” Tag said. “They need your help now.”

“That’s a negative,” Cho said. “They want to be independent, they can damn well learn how to protect themselves.”

The calmness with which he refused the request stoked the fire already raging in Tag’s gut. “Goddamnit, these are innocent people!”

The comm connection ended.

“Bastard!” Tag yelled.

Frightened faces peered at him from some of the windows. If no one else would help the colonists, it was up to him. He heard another crash as he ran toward the clinic. Up ahead, in the freshly built wall, there was a gap the size of an air car. Rubble lay strewn across the ground. An identical hole gaped in the wall of the clinic. Tag rushed in, grabbing a chunk of broken masonry as an improvised weapon. 

Time slowed as the scene before him coalesced. The wailing of the sirens and the voices chattering over his comms seemed to die away. His senses became focused and narrow. First he saw Sumo lying against a wall with singe marks over her armor. Then Gorenado kneeling, his rifle broken into pieces on the ground before him. Gorenado had one hand on his head, the other on his knee. Blood dribbled out of his nose. Empty beds and medical supplies were scattered everywhere. And amid the supplies lay something Tag assumed was a dead Imoogi.

It was a long, slithering beast with six arms but no legs, like a snake. Fins spread from each arm like little wings and down its spine. Brilliant red streaks stained its lips and yellowed teeth, matching the scarlet still throbbing in its globular eyes.

But the doctors were still unaccounted for, and so was—

“Alpha!” Tag cried.

Another section of the wall tumbled down as an Imoogi flailed its muscular tail. Alpha had her silver hands around the thing’s neck. Dents and black gouges marred her chest plate, and wires hung loose from her elbow. Tag threw the chunk of wall he’d been holding at the Imoogi. It thudded against the Imoogi’s head, and its neck twisted to focus those malevolent red eyes on Tag. 

Alpha used the momentary surprise to throw the creature into the wall. Tag scooped up Sumo’s dropped rifle and aimed it at the Imoogi. He squeezed the trigger. The alien was faster, curving and curling so rapidly it became a grayish blur. It emitted a series of high-pitched clicks and shrieks. Sharp pain jabbed into Tag’s ears like knives twisting into his skull. He fought the overwhelming urge to drop the weapon and cover his ears.

He fired again, but the Imoogi dashed out the hole in the clinic’s wall. Tag followed it, his eyes aimed down the gun’s sights. He let loose a spray of shots. The Imoogi was too far, and the shots went wide. It crested a hill and then disappeared down the other side, sulfurous steam vents obscuring its escape. There was no way Tag would catch the damned thing.

As he began to lower the rifle, he saw more movement atop one of the hills. He pressed the sights to his eye and zoomed in. Far out of range of the pulse rifle, seven or eight Imoogi were slithering away. They seemed to be holding some kind of tubular weapons. With them they carried four humans—two of which Tag guessed were Samuel and Beth Foster.

“Son of a bitch,” he said. He considered giving chase, but he was outnumbered. His brief spat with the single Imoogi didn’t make his odds seem favorable. He lowered the rifle and ran to the fallen marines.

“You with me? Sumo?” Tag asked as he knelt beside her. 

Her eyes, crusted over with blood caked in dust from the rubble, blinked open. She pushed herself up slowly. “Goddamn things got us. So fast.”

He offered her a hand and helped pull her up. She groaned as she took her rifle back from him. Gorenado had managed to lift himself up.

“You good, marine?” Tag asked.

“Took a couple hits, but I’ll live. My pride took the biggest hit.”

“Don’t blame yourself. Those things are faster than a ship in hyperspace. Alpha, how about you?”

“I will require repairs,” she said, “but I am functional.”

“Thank the gods you’re all alive,” Tag said. “I want a full workup on each of you as soon as possible. But—”

“But we gotta go rescue those colonists, don’t we?” Sumo asked, brushing bits of broken wall and insulation from her hair.

Tag nodded.

“Good,” Gorenado said, punching one fist into an open palm. “I owe those snakes a little payback.”

Footsteps pounded outside the clinic. Bull had arrived with Lonestar. Lucky was at their heels, hissing and spitting like she was ready for a fight. A few seconds later, Coren, Sofia, and even amateur historian Greg joined them. “Where are the Fosters?” Greg asked.

“The Imoogi took them,” Tag said. 

“Gods!” Greg said. He tapped his wrist terminal. “Can you say that again? I wasn’t recording.”

Tag shoved past the man, shaking his head. The Imoogi were still moving toward the shore. An aggressively sharp object jutted from the water like a single rocky outcropping. It looked out-of-place, artificial. If Tag had to guess, that was the Imoogi’s vessel.

“Let’s go!” he yelled. “Get to the ship. We won’t catch them on foot.”

The group charged out of Orthod and toward the Argo. Once aboard, Lucky instinctively ran to her cage as the others ran to the bridge. 

“Grav impellers, shields, weapons, and sensor arrays online,” Tag ordered. He had no idea what they might face under the water, but he had long since learned that whether it was ice gods or Dreg, being prepared was never a bad thing.

“Sofia, you know what to do,” Tag said after securing his restraints.

“You got it, Skipper.”

Groans echoed throughout the bulkheads. The Argo lifted slowly, and Sofia tilted the controls, the ship following her movements. The distant shoreline appeared in the viewscreens, past the hills and steam vents. Sofia pushed the throttle forward, and they exploded toward the sea.

“Alpha, anything on sensors?” Tag asked.

“Negative, Captain,” she said. “I am uncertain as to why the...”

Her words trailed off as she tapped across her terminal. Sparks flickered from her busted left arm, and Tag hoped she would hold together, praying he wasn’t pushing her too hard. A few minutes later, they reached the shoreline, but the Imoogi vessel had already disappeared underwater. 

“We’re going under,” Sofia said. “Brace yourselves!”

Frothy water rose to meet them, glowing green in the beams of their forward lights. Then the Argo broke through, plunging into the unknown.

At least four colonists had just been abducted. Tag guessed this was the fate shared by the other missing people, colonists and marines alike. They must be feeling lost, hopeless, unbelievably frightened, yanked from their homes and pulled into the ocean like this. A voice nagged at him, telling him this was a waste of time, that he hadn’t come to Orthod to solve these people’s problems. This was a distraction from his real mission.

But that sort of thinking made him sound like Lieutenant Cho. He wasn’t going to save the colonists. Governor Burton couldn’t even if she wanted to. The captives would be lost, devoured or killed or whatever the Imoogi were doing with them. Tag found he couldn’t live with that. 

Saving lives was why he had joined the SRE, why he’d become a scientist. A doctor.

Through his mind’s eye, he saw the Imoogi again with their mouths painted crimson.

We’re coming for you, assholes.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

––––––––

Darkness swallowed them. Strands of dense seaweed swirled around like the winding tendrils of a hurricane. The forward lights blasted into the black, but light couldn’t move the seaweed and sand. They might as well have been flying through mud.

“Alpha, I need a ping on those Imoogi,” Tag said, trying not to sound too panicked.

He imagined the terror in the captive colonists, and the crooked, red-tinged grins of the Imoogi. Burton’s words rang in his head like a distant death knell, sounding more haunting and wrong than ever before. We made peace with them.

How could anything that looked like that—acted like that—have made peace with the colonists? What reason did they have to tear innocent people from their homes, their workplaces?

“Alpha, come on!” Tag said more forcefully.

“I am trying, Captain,” she said. “But whatever their ship is made of, I cannot seem to find it via radar or lidar. There is a high probability it is constructed of similar material as the reef structures.”

“Reefs?” Coren asked.

“Yeah,” Sofia said through gritted teeth. “The big spiky things all around us.”

Sofia wasn’t using the viewscreen to guide them; instead, she was studying the holoscreen. It displayed a three-dimensional view of her surroundings, recreated by the radar and lidar pings. Mountainous shadows of reefs and rock jutted from the ocean floor, and the holoscreen beeped each time she brought the Argo too close to a towering underwater stalagmite. He thanked the gods for having a pilot as good as her, someone who could see the world clearly even through a lousy holoscreen recreation like that.

“Look for whatever’s moving out there,” Tag said.

“Yes, Captain,” Alpha said. She tapped on the terminal.

The holomap at the center of the bridge exploded with red markers indicating moving objects. Every goddamned bit of seaweed and sea creature around them had been tagged.

“Alpha!” Sofia yelled as her holoscreen became cluttered with flakes of red.

Alpha tapped on her screen again. The red haze vanished, replaced by dozens of dots instead of thousands. “I have made the dimensional selection range more precise. According to my sight-based analysis of the Imoogi vessel, it should be within these parameters.”

“Damn it,” Sofia said. “There’s still too many.”

“Pick the one going the fastest,” Tag said.

Sofia sucked in a breath. “All right, here we go.”

Tag was pushed back into his crash couch. The hum of the engines rose to a crescendo, and bubbles swarmed around them. Clumps of seaweed stuck to the outer cams of the Argo, clotting the viewscreens. All Tag could do was watch the holomap. They were closing in on the closest red dot, which Alpha had optimistically labeled “Imoogi Vessel.”

Between more columns of rock and curtains of underwater plant life they wove, carving intricate paths through the water. The more they curled and dove and ascended again, the more Tag thought they had the right target. Whatever they were chasing was trying its damndest to get away.

Has to be them, he thought.

Soon they came upon an underwater plateau. The seaweed streaked across their viewscreens, and hulls began to clear. They were in open water. Schools of fishlike creatures darted away from them, some spinning in their wake. Ahead, Tag saw a glowing spot of red, like an ember burning in the distance.

“Coren, can you get a weapons lock? I don’t want to fire on the craft because of the hostages, but do what you can to scare them. They need to know they aren’t getting away.”

“Done,” Coren said, tapping on his terminal.

“What do you want me to do now?” Sofia said, nudging the Argo forward, closing the distance between them and the Imoogi.

Tag hadn’t really thought that far ahead. Maybe the Imoogi would give up, run out of fuel or... gods, supplies? How long would they continue this chase?

There had to be a better way.

Then it hit Tag.

“Alpha, you remember that time we dragged Bracken and the Stalwart through hyperspace?”

“Yes, Captain,” she said. “I have perfect recall. I engaged the grav tether to tow them behind us.”

“Good. You think it’s possible to lasso these guys with the tether?”

“Lassoing implies a physical—”

“Figure of speech,” Tag said. “Can you halt the Imoogi vessel and drag it toward us?”

Alpha was quiet for a few moments. The only noise at her station was the clack of her metallic fingers on her terminal. “It is certainly a possibility, but the odds are—”

“What do I usually say about the odds?” Tag asked.

The Imoogi vessel grew larger in the viewscreen.

“You do not want to know them, Captain.”

“Right,” Tag said. “You just get ready to make that tether connection when we get close. Whatever the odds, I know you can do it. I know that you will do it.”

“Yes, Captain.” Alpha’s beady eyes narrowed as she hunched over her terminal.

Without the underwater forests to hide behind, the Imoogi vessel sprinted across the open ocean floor. Not much ground was left between the Imoogi and the Argo. Sofia shoved the throttle forward. A stream of bubbles from the Imoogi craft poured around them as they surged through the waters. It took mere seconds for the Argo to catch up.

“Alpha, tether!” Tag said.

Sofia maneuvered the Argo deftly, following the Imoogi’s every move. Coren’s finger hovered above the countermeasures controls, but the Imoogi didn’t fire. Had the alien race become so isolationist that they neglected to arm themselves? Tag would’ve expected a barrage of pulsefire or torpedoes. But so far the ship had done nothing.

Strange, he thought.

“Tether initiated!” Alpha said.

The Imoogi vessel jolted as the tether took hold. It swerved like a fish caught on a hook and line.

“Reel her in!” Tag said. “Sofia, put us at ten percent power. Apply reverse thrust, and shake these assholes up.”

The Argo decelerated immediately, and the Imoogi vessel snapped to a standstill. Bubbles streamed from the thruster ports on its stern. The vessel could do nothing to escape the hungry grav tether dragging it in.

“Alpha, try hailing them,” Tag said. “I want to give them a chance to release the colonists.”

Alpha worked the comm channels, broadcasting a public hail. It went unanswered. “They have either not received our message or have chosen not to respond, Captain.”

“Fine, then,” Tag said. “They want to make this difficult.” He selected the private channel for the marines. “Bull, prepare for a boarding mission. EVA suits and all.”

“Yes, Captain,” Bull responded.

The Imoogi continued to buck against the tether.

“Full stop, Sofia,” Tag said.

“Aye, Skipper.”

As soon as the Argo jolted to a stop, the Imoogi did, too. Tag imagined they would be panicking as they realized their gambit was up. Now it was time to pay for their crimes.

“Captain, we’re suited, armed, and ready,” Bull called over the comms. “Awaiting your order.”

“Prepare—”

“Captain!” Alpha cried, interrupting Tag. “There is a large object headed our direction! Our sensors are detecting some kind of electrical disturbance.”

The Imoogi vessel went wild. It shuddered and surged forward, then backward as if desperate to escape whatever was headed their direction. Tag’s stomach twisted.

“Captain?” Bull asked. “Your orders?”

The Imoogi were within their grasp. With a few plasma cutters, the marines could force themselves into the vessel and execute a rescue operation. There might not be a better chance to save the colonists.

But whatever was surging toward the Argo appeared three or four times larger than the Imoogi vessel.

“I do not understand this,” Alpha said. “Whatever the object is, it appears to be growing.”

True to her words, the marker on the holomap expanded. Then, without warning, it disappeared.

“What in the machine’s name?” Coren muttered, staring at the holomap.

The Imoogi vessel still struggled. They must have seen this new threat, too, and based on their desperation to escape it, he bet they had some idea what it was. If they didn’t like it, neither did he.

“Can you track it?” Tag asked.

“No,” Alpha said. “The object appears to have simply vanished.”

A tingle snuck down Tag’s spine. “Coren, weapons and countermeasures hot.”

“Done,” Coren said. The thrum of the charging pulse cannons reverberated around the deck, and the heavy clunk of magazines engaging in the point-defense cannons came next.

“Sofia, start getting us out of here,” Tag said.

“Aye, Skipper,” Sofia said, throwing the Argo into reverse acceleration. The flailing Imoogi vessel was dragged after them.

“Alpha, I want to know what that thing was and where it went,” Tag said.

“I am attempting to locate it now,” Alpha said, “but if its trajectory and acceleration hold true, it should be hitting us in ten seconds.”

Tag stared at the viewscreen, waiting. His fingers clutched the edges of his crash couch.

“Five seconds remaining,” Alpha said.

“Engage the energy shields,” Tag said.

“Captain, doing so will compromise the integrity of the grav tether.”

“Just do it.”

Then it hit them.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

––––––––

A storm of silver and black churned around them like a squall of razors. Thousands of somethings slammed into the ship. The energy shield lit up in arcs of green lightning wherever there was an impact. Klaxons began to bark, announcing potential hull damage.

“What are those things?” Tag asked.

Alpha isolated an image of one and displayed it on the viewscreen. It appeared to be a fishlike creature with rotating jaws, built more like a drill than an animal.

The pattering against the hull suddenly stopped.

“Are we clear?” he asked tentatively.

A huge object once again showed on the holomap. This time Tag saw it belonged to the massive school of drillfish. As they drew closer together, they seemed to glow, flashing a brilliant golden hue that pierced the ocean’s darkness. The school pulsed several times in tandem then flew apart. The signal on the holomap was lost.

“What are they doing?” Coren asked.

“Sofia, thirty percent power to reverse,” Tag said.

“You got it, Skipper.”

The Argo churned backward, with the forward bow aimed at the drillfish.

“How’s the grav tether doing?” Tag asked.

“It is holding steady,” Alpha said, “but only at forty-five percent efficiency.”

“Understood,” Tag said. He could see the numbers on Alpha’s holoscreen fluctuate even from his vantage point. “How much faster can we go without risking detachment?”

“Five point three percent more.”

“Do it,” Tag said. “And, Sofia, take us up. Fish can’t fly. I hope.”

Sofia nodded, and the Argo accelerated slightly. Tag didn’t want to lose hold of their cargo now, but he didn’t think enduring another attack by the drillfish was a particularly great idea either.

“Coren, let’s put a chaff screen up against those little bastards,” Tag said. He imagined Hannah’s look of disappointment if she could see him damaging the ocean’s ecosystem, but right now, they needed to escape and rescue the colonists. He could feel guilty later.

A black flood of particles spewed from the bow of the Argo. The ship began to rise, pushing up toward the water’s surface. Light started to shimmer around them as the waters became a lighter blue. The Imoogi vessel continued to wriggle in their grasp.

“We’ll get these bastards onto the land and see how well their little submarine works,” Tag said.

The marker for the drillfish disappeared on the holomap once more. Tag braced himself for a final attack by the creatures. He was confident the energy shields could withstand it. Then the Argo would be back into the dry air and out of their reach.

A flash of golden light gushed through the smog of chaff.

“What was that?” Sofia asked.

Before anyone could answer, the lights in the bridge all surged on, glaring enough to rival a star. The viewscreens and holoscreens flickered blue and purple, and the holomap at the center of the bridge fell away in a shower of sparks. A curtain of darkness fell over them, and the comms went out.

“Alpha, what just happened?”

“Captain, it appears those creatures have unleashed some kind of electromagnetic pulse,” Alpha replied.

“I thought even human ships were shielded against such weapons,” Coren said.

“They are,” Sofia said. “Whatever that was...it was different.”

“Bring all our systems back online.”

“I will attempt a manual restart,” Alpha reported.

Tag heard her suit unzip and the whine of electric servos as she physically connected to her terminal. If Alpha couldn’t get the ship moving, they would be stuck in this underwater tomb until they could power up the fusion reactors again. It might take days to diagnose the problem if they couldn’t restart the ship’s comp systems from the bridge.

Gods, how long would they be down here?

He shivered, trying not to think about it. The grav tether had undoubtedly failed with the anomalous power surge. They had lost the colonists. The crew of the Argo could survive down here as long as they needed; they had the rations and supplies, even if the power was down. The air supply would last for days with the skeleton crew they had been running with.

The drillfish had other ideas.

Hail, to rival all the storms and hurricanes Tag had ever endured growing up on Earth, unleashed itself against their hull. It sounded like so many thousands of small meteorites pinging against the alloy. And then, between the impacts resonating through the bulkheads, there was a sound even more disturbing.

“That sounds like the goddamned Dreg!” Sofia yelled. “Those things are trying to get through the hull!”

Tag twisted in his crash couch. “Alpha, get those systems back up. The Argo can’t survive down here with a million leaking punctures.”

“I am trying,” she said. “I think that I have isolated the power surge. Here we go, Captain.” The lights to the bridge flickered on. Alarms wailed, and the grav impellers restarted with a growling thrum. The viewscreens erupted with the sight of thousands of swarming drillfish.

“Coren, open fire,” Tag said.

The chug and thump of the point-defense cannons opened up around them. But many of the fish were too close for the PDCs to effectively target them.

“Alpha, do we still have a grav tether lock?” Tag asked.

“Negative, Captain. It appears the connection was lost as soon as the power went down.”

“Damn,” Tag said. He had expected as much, but it didn’t make it any better. “You got a read on them?”

“I believe so, Captain,” Alpha said. “I have detected a mass with similar density and dimensions as the Imoogi vessel.”

A spot on the holomap once again lit up.

“Full ahead, Sofia!” Tag said.

The Argo began to accelerate, shaking wildly in the turbulent waters. The noise of the drillfish still rang out through the ship. Tag had thought the rapid acceleration would’ve shaken the persistent beasts, but they continued to attack, clinging to the ship... as if by magnets.

“These things are capable of producing some kind of magnetic field, aren’t they?” Tag mused. “That’s why they’re throwing off our sensors. The EMP blast... gods.”

The scientific side of his mind started working in overdrive as he toyed with how these creatures might exert such a powerful field. But he didn’t have time for experimentation right now. He was a captain, and his people were in trouble. “Alpha, reengage the energy shields. Shock the three hells out of these suckers.”

“Yes, Captain.” Alpha tapped once on the terminal to charge the energy shields, then tapped again to engage the shields.

Green lightning arced across the bow of the Argo. The shield sparked wherever it touched the fish. Most were thrown off, their bodies illuminated in a resurgent mixture of red and oranges, almost as if they had caught fire.

Tag thought they had killed the bastards. The fish started to peel away as the energy shield regained its strength. For a moment, Tag thought they were back in the race. His fingers curled around the edges of the crash couch, and he stared at the viewscreen, peering into the darkness as they chased after the Imoogi.

The energy shield continued toward its original strength. Before it hit seventy-five percent, the ship went dark again. The ship shuddered, then slammed against something. Momentum threw Tag forward in his restraints. His neck caught painfully. The drillfishes’ attack returned in full force.

“Why don’t these damn things leave us alone?” Sofia asked.

“Alpha, what happened?” Tag asked. “I thought we were good to go.”

“We were, Captain,” Alpha said. “I do not understand...”

“Get us moving, Alpha.”

“Of course,” she said. “It appears to be the same issue as last time. I believe the problem lies with the energy shield. Somehow those fish reversed the power of the shields, overwhelming our internal safeguards.”

“So we’ve got to do this without shields?” Tag asked.

“That would be my assessment, Captain.”

Tag searched the holomap. The Imoogi vessel was far away now, lost in the mountainous rocks of the seafloor. A heavy weight filled him. Defeat. They’d lost their quarry, and if he didn’t get his ship out of here now, he might lose the Argo, too. The sounds of the drillfish continued. At least, he hoped, they couldn’t breathe above the water.

“Sofia,” Tag said. “Prepare to take us up.”

“Aye, Skipper,” she said unenthusiastically.

Their chase had been thwarted by a bunch of goddamned fish. Of course, the Imoogi had probably taken them this way precisely for that reason. Their vessel might not have been equipped with weapons, but the ocean was their home turf.

Tag wasn’t looking forward to facing the colonists and telling them that he had failed. But maybe this had been a lesson for him. Getting too distracted in the affairs of Orthod had led him on this wild goose chase. He’d been trying to save a few colonists when he should be searching for the collaborators and the Collectors’ ties to Orthod. Much more was at stake than a few hapless colonists.

And just when he thought the depressing sense of defeat and failure couldn’t get any worse, it did.

“What the three hells are those?” Sofia cried, pointing at the murky viewscreen.

Rising from the seafloor like wraiths from the sand, a host of giant beasts had appeared. Hundreds of tiny yellow lights flickered along each of the beasts like stars.

That was when Tag realized they weren’t creatures at all.

These were giant versions of the Imoogi vessel they had been chasing. And they had the Argo surrounded.

CHAPTER THIRTY

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The drillfish suddenly parted, dispersing into a cloud that circled the Imoogi vessels. Tag expected the creatures to start boring into those ships. Instead they simply looped around as if protecting them.

“Coren, weapons ready,” Tag said. He debated whether to engage the shields again. If he did and the drillfish reacted as before, it would leave them defenseless against this new threat. He figured it was time to test whether that treaty Burton had made with these people held water, so to speak.

“Alpha, hail them,” he said.

Alpha hesitated a second, as if unsure of Tag’s order. But she complied, her fingers tracing over her terminal. A moment later an Imoogi face appeared on his holoscreen. It had the same half-reptilian, half-fish look as the ones he had seen back at Orthod’s medical clinic. Atop its head rested a circlet, of sorts, carved out of coral. While its mouth was filled with the same needle-sharp teeth as the other Imoogi he had seen, there was no crimson beard across its face. Maybe this one just hadn’t been eating human flesh recently.

The Imoogi began speaking. At first Tag expected the high-pitched shrieks and clicks of the ones he’d encountered before. But the sounds that came out of this one were far gentler, more melodic. Its voice certainly didn’t compare to the emotional etudes of the Forinth, but it wasn’t the ear-busting cacophony he had thought it would be.

A few moments later, the AI systems on the Argo’s shipboard computers completed the language translation.

“Human vessel,” the Imoogi was saying, “I am Chancellor Munmu, guardian and keeper of the Imoogi people. Your travel here conflicts with the Peace-Water-Land Treaty. This transgression is punishable by death. Please explain why you are here.”

“At least they haven’t opened fire yet,” Sofia said.

Coren tensed over his controls.

“Chancellor Munmu, I’m Captain Brewer,” Tag said through gritted teeth. “You know why we’re here. Your people broke the treaty; we’re merely coming after the colonists they abducted.”

A translucent film passed over the chancellor’s red eyes then retracted, leaving them glistening. Tag took it as a gesture of surprise, and Munmu’s words all but confirmed it. “I apologize, Captain Brewer. We are unaware of any Imoogi transgression on this agreement. Humans haven’t been within our realms for years, voluntarily or not. What proof have you?”

“We tracked one of your vessels down here. We almost had them, too. Just let the hostages go, and we’ll leave.”

“Captain Brewer,” the serpentine Imoogi spoke again with evident patience. “I assure you I do not know what you are talking about. But if these allegations hold any truth, I would like to resolve this peacefully. Tell our chancellors what you have told me. They will judge the veracity of your statement.”

“They’ll judge?” Tag asked. “I saw your people with my own eyes, as did my crew. They almost killed us. You need proof? One of the Imoogi was killed trying to take the colonists. You want me to bring its body back here?”

Munmu’s forked tongue licked over its snout. When it spoke again, it was with a sense of sorrow. “No, that will not be necessary. Please, I really must insist you come with me. This... if what you said is true—and I don’t want to believe you, Captain, I really don’t—but if what you said is true, I fear what the repercussions of this tragedy may be. We will want to resolve this situation immediately.”

He was quiet for a moment, then added, “Captain Brewer, I can see you do not trust us. If you would feel better, then keep your weapons armed and your shields up. We will keep ours off as a sign of trust.” A moment later, the orange lights of their cannons winked out.

“We turn our shields on, those damn fish will disable us again,” Tag said.

“I apologize for that,” Munmu said. It turned to the side, mouthing some order to a subordinate. The school of drillfish sank into the sand, disappearing. “They are nothing but an automated defensive measure. They will no longer bother your ship. So, Captain Brewer, will you come with us?”

Tag felt the eyes of his crew on him. Whatever he decided to do next, they would follow him, just as they’d done on Meck’ara, the Montenegro, and now Orthod. “What the three hells? Take us there.”

***

The Imoogi city looked like an oversized, electrified reef. All colors of lights twinkled from spires that stretched the hundreds of meters toward the ocean’s surface. Around the columns, the Imoogi’s serpentine bodies carried them like meteors through the water. Under the chancellor’s directions, Sofia took the Argo toward a makeshift landing pad. She brought the ship down between a couple of battlecruiser-sized Imoogi vessels.

“Time for a walk,” Tag said.

“More like a swim,” Sofia said as she undid her restraints.

The marines joined them in the ship’s airlock, each of them bristling with weapons, and Tag briefed the crew.

“EVA suits on,” Tag concluded. “You see any funny business, we rocket back here.”

They entered the airlock, and the hatch to the cargo bay shut behind them. Water slowly filled the chamber as air belched out. Finally the outer hatch opened, unleashing them into the wilds of the open ocean. Tag felt the outer layers of his EVA suit compress before the suit’s systems repressurized them, responding to the immense weight of the oceanic depths. It was a wonder that the Imoogi could thrive so deep under these waters and yet have no problems functioning on land, too.

But any scientific questions of physiology and biology would have to wait. A score of Imoogi were swimming toward them. He recognized Chancellor Munmu by the circlet atop its head.

“Welcome,” Munmu said, its voice slightly distorted by the water. “Please follow me.”

Munmu’s body squirmed like the tail of a crocodile, propelling itself at a speed that would make even the most genetically enhanced Olympian swimmer jealous. Tag only kept up thanks to his suit’s jet propulsion system. They wound through the spires of the buildings, passing an open-water market and what appeared to be restaurants. The red eyes of the Imoogi all followed Tag and his crew as they jetted through what seemed to pass for streets in their strange, underwater city.

Under the shadow of one building, Tag thought he saw an Imoogi with the same ghastly red maw as those he had seen at the colony. The red-lipped Imoogi retreated back into the dark, watching Tag pass by.

Munmu never slowed. It led Tag’s crew at blindingly fast speeds. Soon they swerved upward and into one of the city’s central buildings. Munmu led them into a bulbous, saucer-shaped portion of the building. There they exited the water through a moon pool.

Munmu left a trail of dripping water as he strode toward a pair of doors. “You may take your helmets off,” he said. “We have prepared the chamber to be more suitable for humans.”

Tag glanced at his helmet’s heads-up-display. The atmosphere certainly seemed amenable, and he risked taking off his helmet. He held it by his side, breathing in the salty air.

“Is that better?” Munmu asked.

“It is appreciated,” Tag said. The others joined them, climbing out of the water and removing their helmets, and Munmu led them to another chamber.

Several Imoogi sat atop their curled tails, situated on pillows arranged in a semicircle. When Tag entered, they went silent. Munmu sat on the central pillow. It gestured for Tag and his group to arrange themselves in the remaining seats. The marines stood in the back of the room with their weapons cradled across their chests. Tag searched the room but saw no evidence of Imoogi guards. Either these people trusted him or they had other defensive measures that remained unseen. Judging by their encounter with the drillfish, he tended to think the latter was true.

“Chancellor Munmu has informed us why you are here,” one of the Imoogi said. “I am Chancellor Cintamani, the prime minister of our people.”

Another Imoogi with gray scars covering its body raised an arm cut off at its elbow. “I am Chancellor Sinmun, justice enforcer of the Imoogi.”

The others introduced themselves and their various roles, ranging from economic overseers to technological development secretaries.

“Is it common for so many leaders of Imoogi society to greet a visitor like this?” Tag asked.

“It is when it concerns such an important matter,” Cintamani said. It gestured to the other Chancellors. “The treaty with the humans affects all of us. Please, tell us your story and explain why you violated our waters.”

Tag relayed their recent experiences from the attack on Orthod to chasing the Imoogi vessel into the depths of the ocean, then being obstructed by the drillfish.

“Can you describe these Imoogi who took your humans?” Sinmun asked.

There was one trait that stood out in Tag’s mind. “They had red stains around their mouths,” he said. “Like blood.”

“Are you certain it was blood?” Sinmun asked.

“I suppose I can’t say with one hundred percent confidence, but it seemed like blood. Like maybe they had bitten the colonists or—”

Sinmun shook its head. “Bitten them? An Imoogi that fights with its mouth? Preposterous!”

Cintamani erupted into laughter. “How disgusting! No, no, no that can’t be true.”

“I know what I saw,” Tag said, trying to keep his voice measured and calm.

Munmu leaned forward on its tail, scratching at its chest with three of its arms. It blinked. “You are certain?”

“I am absolutely certain. All the Imoogi I saw had crimson stains around their mouths. In fact, on our way here, I saw one that looked just like them in the city.”

Murmurs broke out between the chancellors. They conferred among themselves, and Tag shared a confused glance with Sofia. Finally the Imoogi fell quiet, their attention turned back to Tag.

Sinmun uncurled, rising to its full height. It slithered toward Tag. “If what you have said is true, then, my friend, we have much to discuss.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

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Sinmun and Munmu took Tag and his crew to a squat, almost cave-like building that stood far below the soaring spires of the city. Rocky passages lined with barred windows wound through the building, patrolled by Imoogi carrying rodlike weapons. As they swam down a corridor, Tag slowed to peer through one of the windows. A pair of dull red eyes stared back. The Imoogi’s head twitched, its red-daubed mouth clamping and unclamping. It looked as though the Imoogi had just taken a fresh bite out of an animal. It let out a shrill shriek that was thankfully dulled by Tag’s helmet. One of the guards winced, and Sinmun growled. They continued on, passing by more and more rooms filled with more Imoogi who had the same crimson-stained faces. Their eyes looked dull compared to the Imoogi outside. Some thrashed about or swam in lazy circles; other floated, listless and glum, staring at some point only they could see.

“Is this a prison?” Tag asked through his comms.

“No,” Sinmun said. “It’s a clinic.”

“A clinic?” Sofia asked. A sparkle of recognition showed in the anthropologist’s eyes. “They seem a bit crazed. Like they’re on something. Are they... are they addicts?”

“I’m afraid that’s correct,” Sinmun said. “While crime is something we have always dealt with, it has never been as bad as it has been recently. We have discovered the cause, but try as we might, we have not been able to stop it.”

They reached a larger chamber at the end of the corridor, and their Imoogi guides ushered Tag and his crew inside. Munmu swam to a storage container along one wall. It unfastened the lid and pulled out a clump of something red and jelly-like. “This is beedle-gee. It’s a plant that grows wild around the reefs near the water’s surface.” He rolled it between his fingers before setting it back into the container. “I’m told that its energizing effect is similar to human stimulants such as methamphetamines.”

“And it’s addicting?” Tag asked.

“No,” Sinmun said. “At least it isn’t normally. It used to be customary for Imoogi to have a ball of beedle-gee in the morning. It is a good way to wake up. Those who use it extensively, maybe chewing three to four a day, develop the red stains on their teeth and lips that you saw in those patients in our clinic.”

Bubbles streamed from Munmu’s nostrils as if it was sighing. “Someone has been lacing batches of beedle-gee. We call the substance stimmadd. It appears to have a biochemical effect that both enhances the effectiveness of beedle-gee and makes it highly addictive.”

Sinmun swam around the back of the chamber. “That is not the only effect. It is also neurodegenerative. The longer one is addicted to it, the more one’s brain rots away.”

“For the gods’ sake,” Tag said. “That sounds terrible.”

“Yes,” Sinmun said. “We’ve outlawed beedle-gee altogether until we can pinpoint who or what is behind this. But still, the beedle-gee with stimmadd seems to be pouring into our cities. I have tried, with the rest of my enforcers, to track the source down. We have searched our oceans and even the land. Our researchers are working overtime. But we have found nothing.”

“I admit,” Munmu said, “we have had our suspicions about the humans, and we have spied around the human colony on Orthod despite our treaty.”

“I don’t understand why this addiction would drive a group of Imoogi to abduct those colonists,” Tag said.

“I’m afraid we don’t know, either,” Munmu said.

“Damn,” Tag said. “How many Imoogi cities are there?”

Munmu and Sinmun looked at each other. Their tongues flicked over their nostrils. It seemed to Tag like this was the Imoogi version of a shrug.

“I would have to consult our latest census polls,” Munmu said, “but I would estimate there are three thousand cities. That isn’t counting the thousands of smaller towns and other little hamlets where the more rural Imoogi choose to live.”

“Gods,” Sofia said. “So the chance of us finding the captive colonists...”

“They are very slim,” Sinmun said. “For that, I am sorry. Certainly I will let my fellow justice enforcers know. There will be a worldwide alert.”

Tag appreciated the gesture, but he had seen Orthod from space. It was covered in more water than Earth—and Earth’s surface was almost three-quarters water. If those Imoogi wanted to disappear with their captives, they could.

“Thank you for explaining what has happened down here, and I apologize for the confusion,” Tag said, slipping into his role as a diplomat.

“As do we,” Munmu said. “If there is anything I can do for you, I would be pleased to help.”

“There is, actually,” Tag said. Maybe this adventure wouldn’t be completely fruitless. “But it’s something unrelated to our missing people.”

“What would that be?”

“Have you noticed anything else unusual as you’ve searched the surface? Any other humans—or for that matter other races—behaving strangely or secretively?”

Munmu scratched at its belly for a moment, blinking several times. “We don’t monitor surface activity on the planet. It isn’t a priority of ours, and our people much prefer the water.”

“So there’s been nothing odd recently? What about anytime over the past few years?”

Again, Munmu’s forked tongue swept over its nostrils. “The human ruler, the one they call Maxine, governs her people well. But the other ones gave us some trouble several years ago.”

“Other humans?” Tag asked.

“We made contact with them first. They never gave us names, but they tried to establish some underwater facilities near their land-based ones. We made a treaty that prevented them from venturing too much further into the water—very similar to our treaty with the Principality.”

“Oh?” Tag said, waiting for Munmu to continue.

“They disobeyed it, though, so we were forced to retaliate,” Munmu said. “They reduced their activities, and we never bothered with them again.”

“You don’t have the name of these people or their companies or colony or anything like that?” Tag asked.

“No,” Munmu said. “They were quite adamant about remaining anonymous.”

“Damn,” Sofia said. “Just when I thought we were close to something.”

Having reached a dead end in both his investigations, Tag wanted to make his way back to the Principality. He needed to return to his primary mission. He had spent enough time down here.

“Are we free to leave?” Tag asked.

“Of course,” Munmu said. “We will hail you if we discover your missing people.”

“Good,” Tag said. “Do you by chance have some extra tainted beedle-gee?”

The translucent membranes passed over Munmu’s eyes several times. “You... you want these drugs?”

“I’m not going to try them. I want to help research the added compound,” Tag said, thinking of Hannah. Her lab would be perfectly suited to analyzing the source of the stimmadd, given her already extensive catalogue of the planet’s flora and fauna. “Maybe we can help.”

“That would be most appreciated,” Sinmun said. It gave Tag a container of samples, which he passed to Alpha for safekeeping. “We wish you the luck of calm waters.”

“Thank you,” Tag said. “And, uh, you, too.”

As Munmu escorted them back to the Argo, it insisted several times that they stay for a traditional Imoogi meal. Tag was curious enough to consider it, but he had wasted enough time on this underwater field trip. True to their word, the Imoogi’s defenses did not target his ship on the return trip. The uneventful ascent gave Tag plenty of time to think. What had they gained today? Knowledge of a drug epidemic. No more leads on the Burtons’ mysterious benefactors than they had before. And they’d lost a handful of colonists, including the settlement’s medical doctors.

Once again, Tag found himself faced with more questions than answers. As the Argo swooped over the mottled brown-and-green landscape toward the Principality, a new weight seemed to settle over his shoulders.

Now he had to face Burton and tell her that they had failed to save her people.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

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The Argo landed with little fanfare outside the Principality. From the sky, Tag could see that the 3-D fabricators were already working on a second layer of defenses beyond the original wall. But after what Tag had seen of the Imoogi, he doubted those polymer walls would stand up to a group of crazed beedle-gee addicts.

As the crew assembled at the cargo bay door, Tag toyed with the pulse pistol he’d stowed in his holster. With tensions high between the colonists and marines, he could no longer risk going around unarmed. Not after the Imoogi strike. The situation was like a drought-ridden forest awaiting a stray spark. If it wasn’t already aflame, it would be soon—and Tag didn’t want himself or his crew to be caught in the fire, whether literal or metaphorical.

“Alpha, I want you to head back to the clinic. Without the Fosters, they’ll need your help,” Tag said. “Gorenado, Lonestar, protect her.”

“We’ll keep her safe, Captain,” Gorenado said, clapping Alpha’s shoulder.

“And I’ll keep ol’ Gore safe,” Lonestar said. “A little civilian unruliness and unrest? Ain’t my first rodeo.”

“Somehow I knew you’d say that,” Tag said as he watched them take off. “Coren, Sofia, do your anthropological thing. If people are emotional, maybe they’ll be speaking a little more freely. You might as well use this as an opportunity to see what you can find.”

“On it, Skip,” Sofia said

Coren nodded. “I had expected you all to display slightly more sympathy for these colonists, especially when struck by tragedy.”

“There’s going to be quite a bit more tragedy if we don’t track down the collaborators on Orthod,” Tag said. “We need any break we can get.”

“Logical,” Coren said. “I approve.”

“I live for your approval,” Tag said, as the duo trudged down the ramp and toward the Principality.

“Bull, Sumo, ready?” Tag asked.

“We got your back,” Bull said.

There was a growling bark from atop one of the cargo crates. Lucky stood there, staring down at them.

“Sorry, but I think it might be safer for you to stay back,” Tag said. “Already got enough hands in the field. Why don’t you guard the home front?”

Whether Lucky understood him or not, she certainly seemed to get it when he and the marines shooed her away from the hatch as they left. A warm breeze blew over the rolling plain, tickling the grass and bringing with it the brackish, sulfurous air Tag still hadn’t grown used to. Voices carried from the village, reaching them on the wind. There was no mistaking the angry tenor of an argument, and Tag’s dread grew heavier.

“This keeps getting harder, doesn’t it?” Sumo asked.

“It does,” Tag said.

“You ever think that maybe we’re barking up the wrong tree here? What if these people don’t know anything about the big blue-skinned psychos?”

Yeah, all the time, Tag thought. “Maybe. But if Starinski Labs is running some kind of recruitment operation here, it might be the lead that will help us unravel this whole mess. So it’s worth it just to prove our suspicions wrong, at least.”

“Yeah,” Bull said. “If you can smell shit, there’s a pile of it somewhere. And ever since we got down here—hells, ever since the Montenegro—I’ve been smelling a lot of manure.”

“You sure that’s not just you?” Sumo asked.

As they neared the Principality, an air car hovered out of one of the freshly built gates. It kicked up a wake of dust clouds. Tag watched it, wondering where the colonists were going. Then the car swerved toward them and slowed to a smooth stop a foot from Tag’s feet. He recognized the driver immediately.

“Hannah,” he said. “Are you trying to run me over?”

“I was about to go collect some samples. Get out of the Principality for a while. The town’s a mess,” she said, getting out of the car. “Thought I’d warn you.”

“Thanks,” he said.

“Did you find them?”

Tag’s eyes found the ground. “No, unfortunately. The Imoogi who took the colonists escaped.”

“Damn,” Hannah said. “Cho and his people aren’t doing anything about it. I half-expected an attack against the marine base with all the rage pent up inside those walls now.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” Tag said. “I ran into the Imoogi.”

“Oh?” Hannah’s eyebrows rose high on her forehead.

“Not the ones who took the colonists,” Tag said. “But we met their leaders.”

Hannah stepped closer to Tag, crushing a small steam vent under her boot. “No shit. What were they like? What happened?”

“Long story. I’ll tell you over a drink later. In the meantime, I need a favor,” Tag said.

“Sure thing.”

“Ever heard of beedle-gee?”

She cocked her head, looking nonplussed. “Come again?”

Tag handed her one of the samples. The red jelly glowed under the sunlight. “I was wondering if your lab could compare the chemical constituents of this with the data you have on Orthod. The Imoogi want to figure out where this stuff is coming from.”

“Interesting. What is this?”

“Some kind of drug,” Tag said. “Apparently it’s making its way through the undersea population. The Imoogi that took the colonists were on it. If you’re okay with it, I’ll drop it off with your lab assistants.”

“No, no, that’s okay. I can do it.”

“You’re headed out,” Tag said. “Really, I’d like to get a move on this, so I can drop it off when we get into town.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Hannah insisted. “I’ll head back now. Sample collection can wait. You want a ride?”

“Sure,” Tag said with a smile.

After they dropped off the samples at Hannah’s lab, Tag, Bull, and Sumo started the march toward the Principality’s modest government headquarters. “I think that scientist has a thing for you,” Sumo said to Tag as they walked. “You and her going to be a thing?”

“I don’t really have time for that,” Tag said.

“Didn’t answer my question, did you?” Sumo smirked. “Must be killing you inside to act like you’re just a dumb diplomat.”

Now Bull grinned. “Got to pretend all that science is just hocus-pocus.”

“It’s not hard,” Tag said. “I spend enough time around you all to know what that looks like.”

“Harsh, Cap,” Sumo said. “I’ll have you know I understand at least ten percent of all that scientific mumbo-jumbo you and Alpha are always on about.”

Tag raised a brow. “Ten percent, really?”

“Fine, but do you know how to field-strip and clean a pulse rifle in fifteen seconds?”

Tag lifted his hands in a gesture of defeat. “Won’t even pretend I do.”

Bull let out a grunt. Tag couldn’t tell if it was disapproval or something else, and he didn’t have time to ask. Lieutenant Governor Robert Lindquist burst from the government building to meet them. His puffy cheeks bloomed bright scarlet, and sweat poured down his forehead from his matted-down comb-over.

“You’re back!” Lindquist yelled. “Burton and Cho are in the neutral zone. You better get up there!”

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

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The sounds of raised voices echoed from the neutral-zone building.

“Want us to wait outside?” Bull asked.

“Not this time,” Tag said, jogging up the path.

When he entered, no one turned his way. Burton was engaged in a yelling match with Cho. Each had a contingent of bodyguards who looked dangerously close to unholstering weapons. It seemed that with the right breeze, the whole building might go up in a flurry of blades and guns.

“How could you let them take our people like that?” Burton asked with a wide sweep of her hand.

Cho’s face was red. “If you want to be independent, you can damn well learn what that really means.”

“What is going on?” Tag demanded.

They ignored him.

Tag stepped between Burton and Cho, pushing them apart. Their rage turned from each other and toward him. Accusations flew like arrows. Tag withstood the onslaught.

“Quiet!” Tag bellowed when both Burton and Cho paused to draw breath. “Nothing is going to get done around here if you don’t shut the three hells up!”

Cho’s chest heaved, and his hand strayed toward his pistol. Burton’s nose was pinched up in a snarl.

“Everyone out,” Tag said with a growl. “It’s just you two and me in here.”

When neither said anything, Tag stomped his foot. “Now!”

The marines and colonists didn’t twitch until Burton and Cho finally gestured for them to leave. Tag nodded to Bull and Sumo.

“Keep an eye on them outside.”

“Yes, sir,” Bull said, his face expressionless.

Once the doors shut behind them, Tag motioned for Cho and Burton to have a seat. They continued to stare at each other, their gazes locked like two stags with intertwined antlers.

“We are all goddamned adults,” Tag said. “Let’s act like it.” He stayed between them, his chin raised, until they backed away. Adrenaline flowed through him, and it didn’t settle when he finally took his own seat.

“Cho abandoned us. The marines abandoned us,” Burton began. Tag could still see the anger behind her glowing eyes, but she spoke with a measured voice. “They let my people get taken.”

“We didn’t let your people get taken. They did a good enough job on their own.”

“But you did nothing to save them from the Imoogi!”

Cho shrugged. “How many times do I need to tell you? If you want to be independent, that means you deal with these issues on your own. You admit you’re part of the SRE, I’ll treat you like it. Besides, that’s what our friend is here for, isn’t he?”

For the first time, a look of sincere concern crossed Burton’s face as she turned to Tag. “Did you get them?”

Tag sighed. “No, I’m afraid we couldn’t save them.”

“Gone with the other colonists. Gone with my marines,” Cho muttered. Then the fire behind his eyes returned. He stared hard at Burton. “Whatever you did to piss off the Imoogi, you better set it right.”

“What I did?” Burton said.

Tag could see the conversation was quickly going to devolve into shouting again. “Give it a rest. You’re not getting anywhere, and even if you were, you’d be headed in the wrong direction.”

They still fumed, but at least they were watching him now. Tag took a deep breath, praying that they would actually listen.

“The Imoogi who abducted the colonists weren’t representatives of their people,” Tag said. “They’re dealing with some kind of drug epidemic down there.” He explained what he had found out about the addicts and the stimmadd laced in the beedle-gee, along with the research the Imoogi had been performing. “That being said, neither they nor I have any idea why a group of addicts would abduct humans.”

“Can you be certain they were the ones that took the marines?” Cho asked. He was still eyeing Burton suspiciously.

“No, I cannot,” Tag said. “But it certainly seems like it.”

“Hmm,” Cho said. “I could buy it. Maybe. But I think Burton has some goddamn explaining to do.”

“Me? About what?” she asked.

“Don’t play me for a goddamn fool,” Cho said. “I know about your private investors. You’re not as innocent as you pretend to be.”

“These baseless accusations—”

“Baseless, my ass,” Cho said. “I told Ambassador Brewer all about your little games.”

Tag recalled Cho’s half-paranoid conspiracy theories that the colonists were up to something and thwarting his reconnaissance attempts.

“Burton, you’ve got one chance to come clean,” Cho said. “One chance before I blow the lid on the shit you’re trying to pull.”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about.” Burton pursed her lips, her nostrils flaring. “Tell me what it is you think I’ve done.”

Cho ignored her and stared at Tag. “I’ve been waiting for someone from the SRE to show up before I reported this. Now maybe I’ll actually get the support I need—and the respect I deserve.”

“Go on,” Tag said, his mind spinning. Had Cho discovered something about the collaborators?

“I had my marines do a sweep after the attack,” Cho said. “Wanted to probe the area for vulnerabilities and see if we could find any evidence of where the Imoogi went. Didn’t find them, but we did find something else more interesting.”

He tapped on his wrist terminal, and it displayed a holo of a hole in the ground next to freshly shoveled earth. There was a crate in the hole.

“I don’t understand what we’re looking at,” Burton said.

“Maybe this will help.” Cho gestured over the wrist terminal, and the next holo showed the crate opened. Tag’s pulse accelerated. The crate was filled with weapons and ammunition. Everything from pulse pistols to rocket launchers.

“Why are you showing me a crate of your weapons?” Burton asked.

“These aren’t ours, Governor.”

“Where did you find these?” Tag asked.

“About twenty klicks south of here, following the coastline,” Cho said. “I’m sure Burton—or one of her people—could show you the spot.”

“I assure you, I have no knowledge of the crate or its contents,” Burton said.

“You sure about that? Maybe your backers could explain it, then,” Cho said.

Burton sighed. “It’s true that the people who invested in our colonization attempts were unsavory. But our interactions with them were limited to taking their money. I never knew what they were doing or why. And I didn’t ask questions. My people were desperate. You must understand that. We wanted out of the SRE. We wanted a home. Our investors gave us that opportunity. They promised not to bother us, as long as we didn’t bother them.”

“You like those kinds of deals, don’t you?” Cho asked. “How well did that work out with the Imoogi?”

Burton went on as if Cho hadn’t said anything. “Maybe they were in the weapons trade or something. I don’t know. I never wanted to know. But what I do know is that I don’t have anything to do with guns, drugs, or abductions. And neither do my people.”

Everything Burton said held an intense sincerity. Tag had a difficult time judging whether she was that polished of a politician or if this was absolute truth.

“You’re really going to pretend you know nothing about what these investors were doing or why they came here armed?” Cho asked. “Tell me, what were you planning with their weapons?”

“You know as well as I do that we haven’t ever armed ourselves, nor do we have any intention of doing so.”

Cho shook his head. “Liar.”

“Look,” Tag said. “Cho, you’ve got a crate of weapons here that looks like it’s been buried for years. The investors, whoever they were, are no longer living here. Unless you have some other proof you want to share with us, it’s best if I talk to Burton alone.”

Cho lifted his hands, palms facing out. “Be my guest. You might also ask her about the unregistered tritium weapons we found.”

That piqued Tag’s interest. Rifles and pistols were one thing, but fission-based weapons? Good gods, that was a whole different league. This went far beyond a petty squabble between colonists and marines. What the three hells had Tag gotten himself into?

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

––––––––

“I did some digging into the old files other platoons left behind,” Cho said. “Apparently these so-called investors were transporting tritium and storing it here in large quantities.”

“That’s why they wanted an out-of-the-way colony without much of an infrastructure,” Tag guessed. “All that radioactive matter. They wanted it out of sensor range.”

“Pretty much,” Cho said. “That’s also why they high-tailed it when the SRE finally sent marines down here.”

“Gods, I had no idea,” Burton said. “If I had... all that tritium. If there had been a single leak, the radiation would’ve poisoned my people. I never would’ve colonized here if I’d known.”

“You were damn lucky,” Cho said.

“How do you know all this?” Tag had been given precious little information on Orthod, but whatever records the marines had kept would surely have been shared with him, especially if it concerned something like illicit tritium trade.

“Maybe the SRE is withholding access to all digital records. They never return my information requests. But they can’t hide the paper records my predecessors left. And it turns out Lieutenant Mattis, the original platoon leader on Orthod, kept some interesting records that my people just uncovered. Took a bit of work. He hid them well.”

“This is insane,” Tag said. “Did he say who was responsible?”

“Mattis wrote down the name he got for the group down here. Lorris Industries, or some bullshit like that. But he thought it was nothing but a front, a shell company.”

“Gods,” Tag said. “We need to talk to Mattis.”

“Yeah, we do.” Cho narrowed his eyes, focusing on Burton. “But he’s dead. Died on Orthod, in fact, in an accident. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you, Burton?”

Burton looked shocked. “I have not murdered anyone, and neither have my people.”

“I’ve heard enough for today,” Tag said. “Burton, keep your people in town for now. Establish a watch. Cho, I want you to post guards near the Principality, too.”

Cho looked about ready to protest, but before he could open his mouth, Tag spoke over him. “I know you don’t want to help the colonists. I disagree with your reasoning, and I wish I could get an order from a superior to make you comply, but I can’t right now. If it makes you feel better, tell your men that they’re on the lookout for the Imoogi addicts. If they strike again, you’ll have a better chance of catching them than the locals. Maybe you can find out where they took your marines.”

“Assuming it wasn’t the colonists that took my people,” Cho said.

“Give it a rest,” Burton said.

“Do not start,” Tag said, massaging his temples.

“And what is it that you plan on doing, Ambassador, while we’re risking our asses?” Cho asked.

Tag wanted to tell the marine that he was going to be the one risking his ass, along with his crew. But he refrained. Arguing with these people didn’t seem to do any good. They were so caught up in their feud that they couldn’t see the bigger picture. While Burton and Cho squabbled over control of Orthod, the real danger lay in the stars. Unless they could learn to work together, they would have nothing to argue about when the Collectors enslaved or destroyed everyone in the SRE, including this measly colony.

Be the dragon, whispered a voice through his head.

“Cho, give me the location where you found those weapons,” Tag said. Then to Burton, “And as best you can, I want the location of where Lorris Industries set up shop. I’m going to do something I should’ve done when I first got here.”

***

The sun glinted over Alpha’s silver chassis as she waited for him outside Hannah’s lab. Tag had already sent the rest of the crew back to the Argo. Scuffmarks still marred Alpha’s synthetic skin, and a coating of dust made her limbs look rusty. Battle-worn as she was, she showed no signs of fatigue.

“Good to see you, Captain,” she said.

“How are the colonists?”

“They all seem very angry and scared,” Alpha said. “I wish I had more time to study their reactions to crisis. So far, the only humans I have truly studied have all been with the SRE. Civilians act quite differently.”

“I was talking more about physical health. Anyone hurt?”

“There were casualties during the attack. Three people died. It appeared they tried to resist the Imoogi’s abduction and were dealt blows that were immediately fatal. Five colonists sustained superficial injuries that were treated by bystanders with rudimentary first aid knowledge. It proved sufficient.”

“Understood,” Tag said. “Listen, when we get inside, I need you to talk to the technicians.”

Alpha took a moment to process this order. “You are supposed to know very little about science. I almost forgot.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tag said. “I’m just the diplomat, and you’re the leading scientific expert in the crew right now. Can you handle that?”

Alpha clapped her hands together with a jarring sound of metal scraping against metal. “Yes, I can certainly do that, Captain.”

Tag knocked on the lab door. Rodrigo answered, still donning his white lab coat. “Ah, Mr. Brewer. Dr. Baker told me you would probably stop by later.”

“Great,” Tag said. “Can I talk to her?”

“I’m afraid she’s not here. She’s out collecting new specimens.”

“Oh, of course,” Tag said. “Do you know if she ran the samples I gave her?”

“She did,” Rodrigo said. “Please, come in.”

He led Tag and Alpha through the antechamber and onto the bottom floor of the laboratory. A few of the droid lab assistants were handling experiments, moving between machines with jerking motions.

“Over here,” Rodrigo said. “Dr. Baker performed the complete analysis herself. Must have been something quite interesting; usually she passes those experiments off to us.”

“What did she find?”

“One second,” Rodrigo said. He tapped on one of the nearby terminals, and a holodisplay image popped up. “Here’s what she left you.”

Tag leaned over the holoscreen. Instead of a list of chemical matches, it was a simple note: No matches found. You owe me a beer.

“Is that all? I thought we’d have more thorough data to sift through. That’s why I brought Alpha.”

Rodrigo nodded. “That’s all I have access to. You’d have to ask Dr. Baker if you want to see the specifics.”

Tag cursed. It seemed Hannah hadn’t previously catalogued the plant or animal or whatever the stimmadd portion of the addictive beedle-gee had been synthesized from. Or... a frightening thought passed through Tag’s mind. What if the stimmadd wasn’t from Orthod? What if the compound had extraplanetary origins? That would certainly complicate things. Since the SRE controlled deliveries of goods, people, and data to the planet, the possibilities for how the stimmadd had gotten to the Imoogi left Tag with a bitter taste.

“Something wrong?” Rodrigo asked.

“It’s just...are you sure you can’t get access to Dr. Baker’s data?” Tag asked. Maybe he could compare the analyses she’d run to the extensive molecular database on the Argo. If stimmadd contained recognizable chemical analogues, then the Argo’s lab files would find a match.

“All of her proprietary data is protected. It’s part of Enviro-Cosmos’s agreement with us.”

“Any idea on when Dr. Baker will be back?”

Rodrigo shrugged. “Sometimes her trips take a few hours, sometimes they take days.”

He wasn’t about to wait around for Hannah to return. If someone was responsible for smuggling the stimmadd down here, it stood to reason they might also be enabling other nefarious acts around the planet. Say, recruiting marines to act as Collector collaborators.

“We really are in a hurry,” Tag said. “It sure would be a shame to leave here without the data.”

He glanced at Alpha as he said it. She gave him a confused look.

“Yeah,” Rodrigo said, looking slightly annoyed that Tag kept belaboring the point. “Wish I could help you.”

“I suppose if we can’t leave with the data, I’ll just take back the sample I gave Dr. Baker,” Tag said. “The SRE can conduct further analysis.”

Alpha still looked confused. He understood why; they had plenty of beedle-gee samples to go around. They didn’t need the one they’d given Hannah. But it wasn’t the sample he wanted.

Rodrigo frowned. “I’m not sure where it is.” It seemed like he was losing his patience. Undoubtedly his own experiments were calling him. “I suppose I can look for it.”

“Yes,” Tag said, pasting on the most obnoxiously cheery smile he could manage. “Thank you very much!”

Rodrigo turned and marched toward one of the sample freezing bays. He undid the latch, and icy white mist poured out as he peered into it.

“Alpha, we need that data,” Tag whispered. “Can you get it from their computer system?”

“Yes, Captain, I can do that.” She stood still, making no move toward the terminal.

“Retrieve the data,” Tag said, shaking his head. Alpha was such an advanced AI that sometimes he forgot she wasn’t human. She was constantly learning, but he still needed to be precise when issuing commands. “And be discreet about it.”

“Yes, Captain.” Alpha backed up against a lab bench. On it was the terminal Rodrigo had used to access Hannah’s note. A data probe slipped out of her finger and into one of the access points on the terminal. “I wish to note that stealing is against the morals you imparted to me.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Tag muttered. “I’ll explain later.”

Rodrigo called over his shoulder, “I couldn’t find—”

“Here,” Tag said. “Let me help.” He joined Rodrigo at the open bay. Making a show of it, he poked each of the plastic boxes with samples, counting them off and scanning the dates scrawled across them. He jabbed the one with today’s date. “It should be in this box here, right?”

“Yes,” Rodrigo said with a slight roll of his eyes. “I did, of course, check that one, but—”

“May I?” Tag asked.

Tag started to reach for it, but Rodrigo stopped him. “Without thermal gloves, you’ll get frostbite.”

The lab assistant handed him a pair of gloves. Tag put them on, pretending to have trouble getting his fingers in the right spot. He pulled out the box and started sifting through the plastic vials. As he did, he stole a sideways glance. Alpha was still positioned at the computer. Tag had no idea how much longer she needed, and he was almost at the last sample.

“Oh, no!” Tag said, deliberately spilling the samples over the floor. “I’m so sorry. Were these organized a certain way? Here, I can put them back.”

“Mr. Brewer,” Rodrigo said with evident restraint, “I can clean these up.” He took the plastic box from Tag.

“You sure?”

“Yes, yes, I’m absolutely positive.”

Rodrigo bent to take care of the frozen vials rolling across the floor. Tag carefully stepped over them and joined Alpha.

“Bought as much time as I could,” he said. “How’s it going?”

“I have completed retrieval,” Alpha said. The data probe retracted, and she clenched her hands.

Tag hurried out of the door and back into the street. He jogged with Alpha toward the Argo. The ship waited in the distance, its grav impellers already glowing blue, primed and ready to go.

“What’s your analysis of the data?” Tag asked Alpha.

“I don’t think you’ll be pleased,” she answered, not the least bit winded by their run. “Dr. Baker lied.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

––––––––

“She lied?” Tag asked as they approached the open cargo bay.

“That is correct,” Alpha said. “She found a positive match from her results.”

“Hold that thought, Alpha,” Tag said. He jogged toward the bridge, where Coren and Sofia were waiting. “I don’t know what’s going on, but it doesn’t look good. I need you all in tip-top shape, got it?”

“And when aren’t we in tip-top shape?” Sofia asked.

“Point taken,” Tag said. “Alpha, give them the coordinates for the weapons cache. Plot a trajectory from that point to the approximate location of the investors’ facilities that Burton gave us.”

“Weapons cache?” Coren asked.

“Keep countermeasures hot,” Tag said. “Let’s be prepared for anything. That includes shields, Alpha.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Tag hit a button on his terminal to call the marines. “Bull, how are you all holding up down there?”

“Ready to roll out when you give us the word.”

“Good,” Tag said. “We might need your boots on the ground for recon. Prep the others.”

“Yes, sir,” Bull replied.

“Take us up, Sofia,” Tag said.

The impellers rumbled to life. Dust plumed around them, curling into the nearby steam vents. The endless carpet of half-brown grass waved as they ascended. Then Sofia kicked the throttle forward, and they blasted toward the first point on the route Alpha had calculated.

“So about Hannah,” Tag said as the ship leveled out. “Show me what you found, Alpha.”

Alpha tapped a few commands on her terminal. Next to the holomap of Orthod, a three-dimensional molecular model of the stimmadd compound sparkled to life. “There appear to be two primary components of the stimmadd. The first is a chemical that was banned by the SRE. It is derived from a plantlike life-form at another colony that, like Orthod, appeared to be striving for independence. It was originally designated as a painkiller but was found to have neurodegenerative side effects when used extensively.”

“Okay,” Tag said. “So it looks like this stuff was brought here by humans. Not good at all. What’s this second component?”

“It is engineered from a virus analogue native to Orthod. This virus, according to the data logs, is known to infect the Imoogi. I estimate its effects to be roughly equivalent to those of the common cold. However, one side effect of the virus includes increased potency of the stimmadd, which reacts to a certain protein within Imoogi cytoplasm akin to a human enzyme. This enzyme-like molecule is what allows the stimmadd to affect the Imoogi neurotransmission process.”

“Want to translate that for those of us without a medical degree?” Sofia asked.

“Gods be damned,” Tag said as he realized the implications.

“That doesn’t really help me,” Coren said. “I’m not sure it helped Sofia.”

“What it means,” Tag began, “is that the stimmadd has been deliberately engineered to be addictive to the Imoogi. It’s not some naturally occurring substance that ended up in their beedle-gee supply. Someone—a human—put it there.”

The force of all the pieces clicking together hit him in the gut. “Creating something like that would take a well-equipped lab. And not only that, but it would take a researcher who had intimate knowledge of Orthod’s biological systems.”

“Hannah,” Sofia said. “Gods, you don’t think... No.”

“She’s an intelligent researcher,” Tag said. “She didn’t want us to find out about the stimmadd. She knows something. Maybe she was trying to keep us from finding out the truth and putting ourselves in danger.”

The night he’d spent with her had been a charade. He had felt guilty, thinking he was the one concealing secrets. But he hadn’t been alone in hiding the truth.

“Or maybe she’s being coerced by someone out there. An Imoogi or another human with some kind of leverage over her.”

“We’re here,” Sofia said. She brought the Argo low over the site of the weapons-cache discovery. Amid the winding treelike plants and leaves of grass, there was a freshly dug-up hole. “That must be it.”

“Looks like it,” Tag said. “Scan the area for anything suspicious.”

“On it,” Sofia said. She put the Argo into a slow, lazy path. “If Cho’s people were already here, you think we’ll find something?”

“Not sure,” Tag said. “But they didn’t have the benefit of eyes in the sky.”

They hovered over the forest for several minutes. Alpha stared at her holoscreen, analyzing the sensor readings as they came in. Tag watched the viewscreen, looking for anything out of place. He found his thoughts straying toward Hannah. Was this what she’d meant about facing fate like a dragon? Making her own rules, operating outside the boundaries of civil society?

He hadn’t known her that long, but he had wanted to believe she was one of the good guys. He had thought she was like him, carrying out a scientific mission for the good of humanity.

“Captain,” Alpha said, “I found something.” She gestured over her terminal, and a new marker appeared on the holomap. Sofia directed the Argo over it. A thicket of trees concealed whatever it was she’d identified.

“What exactly did you spot?” Tag asked.

“The lidar picked up a strangely shaped object.” Another flick of her wrist, and a monochromatic line-drawing of the object appeared beside the holomap at the center of the bridge. “Unless plants grow in perfect rectangles on this planet, it’s almost certainly manmade.”

“Take her down?” Sofia asked.

“No,” Tag said. “I don’t want to waste more time than we have to.” He flicked over the comm channels. “Bull, I want you to rappel down. Check out the site highlighted on your wrist terminals. We’ll continue recon from above.”

It didn’t take long for the vid-feed from the marines’ helmet-mounted cams to play across Tag’s holoscreen. He watched as they slid down the cables and into the tree cover. They burst through the stippled green and brown foliage. “All clear,” Bull called over the comms.

“Copy,” Tag said.

The cable retracted, and Sofia continued their circuitous route as Alpha probed the undergrowth with her sensors. All the while, Tag watched the marines approach the site that Alpha had marked on their maps.

“Looks like this was freshly dug up,” Sumo said, picking up some of the dirt sprinkled over the roots and crumbling it between her fingers.

Lonestar peered at something in the roots, and Tag switched to her cam view. “If that’s what they left behind, I’d hate to see what they took,” she said.

“Must have been in a hurry,” Gorenado said.

“Captain, you seeing this?” Bull asked.

“I am,” Tag said. “Rocket launchers, grenades, rifles. Is there another marine platoon camped out on here that we don’t know about?”

“I’m just praying you ain’t right,” Lonestar drawled.

That makes two of us, Tag thought.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

––––––––

The Argo blew over the forested landscape. The land toward the south was far more lush and full of vegetation. A few steam vents wheezed plumes of vapor into the air that caught the golden light of the evening sun.

Sofia leaned on the throttle, pushing the ship hard. “Some bad shit is going on here, Skip.”

“Yes,” Alpha agreed. “This certainly appears to qualify as ‘bad shit.’”

“Think this is the work of a collaborator or something?” Sofia asked.

“If someone down here has been experimenting with brain-altering drugs on the Imoogi, I wouldn’t put human experimentation past them,” Tag said, praying Hannah was unharmed and far from this madness.

“That could be how the marines we encountered on the Montenegro were brainwashed,” Alpha said. “If the drugs had imparted long-term residual effects, there would be no need to employ mind-altering nanites.”

They blasted over a narrow strip of land. Sapphire-blue water lapped the shores on either side. The grass had been flattened in the middle, almost as if a path had been formed from someone or something frequently traveling over it. Perhaps it was just a game trail, but Tag suspected something much more sinister.

Burton had given Tag a rough estimate of where the colony’s mysterious backers might have set up shop. Most of the region was restricted, in part because of the agreements with her financiers, but also because there were apparently large numbers of fist-sized insects with toxic bites in the area. That last tidbit had been supported by anecdotes from a couple colonists, along with research Hannah had performed. Tag wondered whether that was just another boogeyman to keep the colonists from traveling too far south.

There were still so many questions circling his mind as they swung over the dense trees. The land here was greener than anything he had seen up north, and the viewscreen showed why. Black clouds rolled in toward them. Arcs of white lightning cut the sky. He could already imagine the sheets of rain pouring out of the storm front.

“Perfect timing,” Sofia said.

“It will not be a problem for me,” Alpha said. “Our sensors should not be affected by the storm.”

It didn’t take long for the clouds to roll over them. They could have risen above the storm and used the ship’s sensors to scan the ground, but Tag wanted to see the landscape himself. In his mind’s eye, he pictured the New Blood. They hadn’t been able to see the Starinski Labs’ stealth ship on their lidar or radar. Rain smeared across the viewscreen, and the tinny ping of hail echoed through the hull.

“Something else isn’t sitting right with me, Captain,” Sofia said. “If Hannah has been coming down here regularly, it’s a hell of a journey in just an air car.”

“I’m not trying to sound arrogant,” Coren said, “but—”

“Really, this time you’re not trying to sound arrogant?” Sofia asked.

“Yes, well, I know of no human air-car technology that could make this journey in such a short amount of time,” Coren said.

“Alpha?” Tag asked.

Alpha ran the calculations in a nanosecond. “They are correct. Either Hannah did not come this far south or she had an alternative means of transport.”

“We saw no sign of her air car on your sensors,” Tag said, thinking aloud. That could mean many things. Maybe the air car had been parked at a secured location. Three hells, she might be exploring some cave somewhere. His stomach plummeted. Maybe she had been picked up by whoever was using those weapon caches. Abducted by the people at the heart of the stimmadd conspiracy. Tag tried to reason through these other options.

They continued sweeping the forests, the storm their constant companion. Tag still struggled with what he would say when and if he did find Hannah. He hoped it was all a misunderstanding, that they would find the abandoned Lorris Industries facilities and clear her name. Maybe there were no more collaborators on this planet. Maybe after they’d infiltrated or recruited the marines that had tried to assassinate Doran, the collaborators had abandoned this planet. Surely the Collectors had no interest in such a trivial place when all the rest of the SRE was out there, ripe for the picking.

Although they’d yet to find more evidence of human activity in the area, the sensors reported a multitude of holes pockmarking the forest floor. The holes became more common as they approached the southernmost tip of the coastline. Each appeared anywhere from a few centimeters to several meters wide. Tag guessed there was an underground cave network in the area. Trawling through all those caves could take days.

“Anyone else think those caves would be a damn good place to hide a weapons-smuggling operation?” Sofia asked. “Or, say, a collaborator recruitment camp?”

“That’s what I was thinking,” Tag said, “but we’re practically at sea level here. You can see the rain just filling those tunnels, even from up here. They probably just empty into the ocean. You couldn’t—”

He stopped, a thought hitting him. One he should have already pieced together. “Gods, Munmu said Lorris had an underwater facility. All this time, we’d been looking for someone on land. What if they’re underwater?”

“That is a valid hypothesis, Captain,” Alpha said.

“Patch me in to Munmu,” Tag said.

“Yes, Captain.”

A few moments later, Munmu’s scaly face appeared on Tag’s holoscreen.

“I had not expected you to call so soon,” Munmu said. “Do you have news?”

Tag caught Munmu up on the origins of the stimmadd additives. He didn’t bother trying to explain the tenuous connections between the collaborator-recruitment efforts on Orthod and the Collector threat. There wasn’t time for that. “We need to locate these people, and we have reason to believe they may be somewhere around the old underwater human facilities.”

“Ah, I see,” Munmu said. “When do you plan to visit them?”

“Now.”

“I’ll alert a local squad of guardians,” Munmu said. “One moment.”

“Captain, we’re getting an incoming call,” Alpha said.

“Patch it through.”

Another Imoogi guardian appeared onscreen. The scales across its face were mottled and scarred, and a chunk of flesh was missing from one of its lips. “Munmu told me of your request. We’ll be happy to escort you to the location of the human facility.”

In a matter of minutes, Tag was back in the water with the marines and Coren. The Argo remained above, with Alpha and Sofia manning it. Rain churned up the surface of the ocean, and harsh waves kicked up silt and seaweed. The Imoogi navigated through the turbulent waters with ease, plunging deeper into the darkness. Tag followed, his propulsion system leaving a trail of streaming bubbles.

“Captain,” Alpha’s voice chimed over the comms. “Sensors are struggling to pick you up amid all the signal noise.”

“Understood,” Tag said. “Keep in touch. Let me know if you see anything on the surface.”

Yet another reason the fission-weapon-smuggling operations could have been tucked away down here, another layer of secrecy and natural protection to keep it away from prying eyes, SRE or otherwise.

But it hadn’t escaped the eyes of the Imoogi, and for that, he was thankful.

Bull jetted through the water beside Tag, cradling a mini-Gauss rifle constructed specifically for harsh environments like the ocean. Sumo and Lonestar swam after him with Coren and Gorenado bringing up the rear. The squad of Imoogi speared through the water, cutting through the seaweed like aquatic scythes. Fishlike creatures swam out of their way, and giant things roughly the size of an air car scuttled across the ocean floor like gargantuan crabs. Tag thanked the gods these creatures seemed to be afraid of them, rather than the other way around.

Then the noise of Imoogi chatter broke over his comms. They slowed, letting themselves sink to the ocean floor.

“Turn off your lights,” one of them said, turning to Tag and the others.

Tag switched off his helmet-mounted light. The others did, too, and they were bathed in darkness, as if a black hole had swallowed every last photon around them. An Imoogi tapped Tag’s shoulder and pulled him through the huge leaves of seaweed.

Then he saw it. A distinctly human facility jutted from the ocean floor. It had a spherical bay that seemed suited for corvette-class ships or smaller. The rest of it consisted of a huge, utilitarian cubic structure. A multitude of portholes dotted its sides, spilling yellow light that illuminated bits of silt and debris floating in the water.

“Looks like someone’s home,” Bull said with a growl.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

––––––––

The Imoogi led the way into the Lorris facility. They swam low, their bellies brushing the seafloor, careful to follow the trenches full of seaweed. Their bodies rippled like they were made of water themselves, fluid and swift. Tag did his best to shadow them, trying to keep low while minimizing the debris and sand he kicked up behind him. But there was little he could do to prevent the outflow of bubbles from his propulsion jets.

An Imoogi glanced back at him. Its finlike ears waggled, a gesture Tag figured for disapproval. The marines weren’t much better. They tailed him in fits and spurts, fighting against the currents trying to simultaneously slam them against the ocean floor and carry them deeper, out into a void that was darker than space.

Tag watched the facility’s lights draw closer. Maybe Hannah was down here in that cavernous place.

A tingling sensation ran down his spine. He wondered how she, a talented scientist, had been wrapped up in manufacturing a wide-scale drug epidemic and maintaining a facility like this without substantial help.

Glancing behind, Tag saw the marines’ faces illuminated in the sallow light. Their features looked ghastly, with dark shadows pulling on their eyes, every crease and scar accentuated by the contrast. No doubt they were running on fumes. But their eyes were as hard as the alloy hull of the Argo.

One Imoogi darted ahead. Tag tried to watch it, but it was like trying to follow a torpedo. It was then he realized just how slowly the Imoogi had been swimming for the humans’ benefit.

The Imoogi swam under the ship bay and disappeared. A moment later, the others turned back to Tag and his crew, beckoning them with whips of their serpentine tails. Tag kicked up the power on his propulsion jets and spiraled after them. It appeared they had abandoned stealth in favor of speed.

They swooped under the ship bay into a moon pool. The Imoogi slipped above the water’s surface first. One stuck its face and a few arms back in, signaling to the humans that the coast was clear.

Tag pulled himself up. Water sluiced off his suit. He gazed around the vast chamber bathed in the unforgiving glow of red battle lights. A jungle of electrical wires and crates lined the perimeter of the moon pool. And there, menacing under the dull light, waited another of Starinski Labs’ prototype crafts. White letters emblazoned on the side of this one read Forge of Blood. A smaller shuttle was docked nearby, and in the open cargo hold Tag spied an air car.

Hannah’s air car.

“Eyes on the craft,” Bull said.

Sumo and Lonestar pointed their rifles at the open cargo door. Bull guarded the open corridor leading out of the bay with Gorenado. An Imoogi slithered toward Tag.

“We have done our service,” the Imoogi said. “Now we must leave. If we are caught in a conflict with humans, it will trigger the nullification of our treaty.”

“I understand,” Tag said. “Thank you for getting us this far.”

“May you have the luck of calm waters,” the Imoogi said before slipping back into the moon pool. The others followed, leaving Tag, Coren, and the marines alone.

Coren sighed. “Do we examine the ship or explore the facility first, Captain?”

Both were tempting options. If they searched the building, they might find valuable data about the source of the laced beedle-gee and information about the mysterious backers who had built this place. And if they were lucky, they might even scrounge up evidence about the collaborators’ recruitment efforts on Orthod. But the shuttle offered a clear link between Starinski Labs and the destruction of the Dawn of Glory, with the prospect of more information in the ship’s logs to show how the company, the collaborators, and the Collectors were connected.

“Uh, Captain,” Coren said. He seemed to be staring straight ahead through his orange visor, seeing something none of the others could. “My sensors are detecting trace amounts of gamma radiation.”

“You think that’s residual radiation from the fission weapons smuggled through here?” Tag asked.

“I doubt it,” Coren said. “The rad reading I’m getting suggests an active radioactive source within this compound.”

“A leaking fusion reactor, maybe?”

“Maybe,” Coren said.

There was another possibility—one neither had dared to say aloud. There might be a live nuclear weapon nearby. They needed to get what they came for and then leave as quickly as possible. Nearby, next to a bench full of scrap material and engineering tools, a terminal stuck out from the wall.

“Coren, see what you can get out of that terminal and transmit all the data to the Argo. If you don’t find anything useful, we’ll search the ship,” Tag said. “Alpha, keep the data link open and make sure you record video of all this.”

“Consider it done,” Coren replied. He loped over to the bench and used the data probes on his suit to connect with the computer. “Installing data-sapping software now.”

“Yes, Captain,” Alpha said over the comms. Tag wished she were there to interface directly with the Lorris terminals, but it was safer to leave Alpha and Sofia in reserve aboard the Argo.

For a few more minutes, the only sounds they heard were the groans traveling through the thick, plated walls of the ship bay as the water shifted around it.

“This is interesting,” Coren said, his six-fingered hands tapping away at the terminal. “I believe I’ve decrypted an inventory program on here. If I’m reading this correctly, there are fission weapons still here. The report refers to this facility as Site A. All the weapons except one are stored here. The program references a Site B, which appears to be designated as a test facility.”

“Would the fission weapons be the source of the radiation you detected?” Tag asked.

“Maybe,” Coren said. “But at least one of the stored weapons would have to be primed.”

“Damn,” Tag said. His nerves started to spark with electricity. “What about the Site B weapon?”

“That one is primed,” Coren said.

“Gods. Where is this Site B?” Tag looked around the ship bay as if an answer would appear.

“Three thousand klicks from here, on a land mass that... this is odd,” Coren said. “It’s a testing site for fission weapons.”

“Strange. At least it doesn’t seem like that weapon is an immediate threat,” Tag said. “Find anything on the Collectors or Starinski?”

“Starinski is mentioned in several documents, but there’s a great deal more that I need to decrypt.”

Tag looked back at the open passageway. At any moment, Hannah might show up—with or without heavily armed guards. “We don’t have time to do that here. As soon as you finish installing the sapping software, we’re going to search the stealth ship.”

“Installation complete,” said Coren.

“Good,” Tag said. “Let’s move.”

Sumo and Lonestar cleared the way toward the ship. Finally, they would see the inside of a Starinski stealth craft. But before they reached the Forge, the clatter of footsteps echoed down the hall. Urgent voices bounced off the walls, and Tag dove behind a nearby crate. Sumo and Lonestar found firing positions, and Coren hid under a bank of holoscreens.

Out of the passage came a group of men and women, all brandishing weapons. They looked like SRE marines with their black power armor and standard-issue pulse rifles, but they had no insignia to mark their allegiance. A dozen technicians followed, pushing huge cylindrical objects on carts.

Tag’s stomach dropped. Those were stasis chambers—and they were occupied. Tag had a sinking feeling that these were the missing marines. Then he spotted the Principality’s doctors, Beth and Samuel Foster, floating in a pair of chambers with their eyes half-closed, straddling the line between sleep and consciousness.

Whoever had been engineering the stimmadd here had been using its addictive properties to bend Imoogi to their will. Tag pictured the desperate Imoogi with their red lips and teeth, stained by the beedle-gee. It took no leap of imagination to guess what their reward had been for bringing humans here.

Another figure emerged from the passageway, and although the red lights overhead masked her features, he had no problem recognizing her. He had wanted to believe that maybe, just maybe, Hannah was innocent. But she strode to the head of the group with the same confident gait as when she had first approached him at the colony’s makeshift bar. There was no hesitation in her step. No regret on her face. Then, as if to confirm his suspicions, she pointed to the Forge.

“I don’t want another chamber damaged,” she said to one of the barrel-chested grunts. “Secure these ones well. It’s hard enough getting specimens without you all ruining them.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the grunt replied as he helped load one of the stasis chambers onto the ship. Hannah watched from the edge of the cargo hold.

“Boss says you gotta clean this mess up,” a man said from the open hatch of the Forge.

Hannah rolled her eyes. “I told him I would.”

“He wants to know how.”

“In fifteen minutes, this place will no longer exist,” Hannah said. “Is that good enough?”

“No,” the man said. His face contorted as if he had tasted something rotten. “He wants the colonists gone. The marines, too.”

“He wants us to scare them off the planet?”

“No, he wants them dead.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

––––––––

“Dead?” Hannah asked, spreading her hands wide. “That’s not what we agreed to, Porter.”

Tag’s stomach roiled as if he’d eaten something rotten. Hannah was working for the enemy. And to make matters worse, the mention of Porter’s name burned through Tag like a blast of pulsefire through the Argo after the energy shields had fallen.

A huge man with roping muscles and head shaved clean looked at his wrist terminal. Private Manuel Porter. One of Cho’s missing marines. The marine grimaced as he spoke, as if it pained him to say the words he said next. “Boss says you do it or he’ll blow the whole planet. This wouldn’t be the first.”

Tag’s pulse accelerated. Images of fission bombs exploding over the Principality flashed through his mind.

Hannah looked at the ground for a moment. “Shit.”

Porter gave a forced smile. “You got to think of the good of humanity. Isn’t that what you told me? Gotta make some sacrifices to secure our future.”

“Sure,” Hannah said, “but I didn’t think... screw it. Fine. He wants them gone, I’ll get them gone. No bombs, though. That’d be too damn obvious if the SRE starts getting curious.”

“You got a better plan?”

“I’ve got something. Get the ship ready for launch.”

“You got it,” Porter said. He disappeared into the ship. Hannah returned to the corridor alone.

Tag looked at Coren, then Sumo and Lonestar. If they moved out of their hiding spots, they would be in full view of anyone who happened to look out of the Forge’s cargo hold. Maybe they could take the ship by force. He had faith in his marines—all four of them. He didn’t relish going head-to-head with an enemy that outnumbered them five-to-one. At the same time, he couldn’t abandon the people that had been abducted. Nor could he let the stealth ship slip away with information that might help the SRE stop the collaborators.

They needed help.

“Gods be damned,” Tag muttered to himself. Bull looked over at him, and Tag waved him off, gesturing for him to hold tight. “Alpha, Sofia, we’re going to need more marines. Go to Cho now and show him the video of what we found here. Tell him if he wants his missing marines, he needs to help us. Warn him there might be some kind of attack on Orthod, too. Oh, and he needs to make sure the intraplanetary system is ready for the Forge or whatever else they throw at the colony.”

Tag might not have a chance to search the Forge of Blood now, but there was still another way of getting the data he wanted. Keeping one eye on the ship, he inched around the edge of the bay until he made it to the corridor.

“Bull, on me,” Tag whispered over the comms. “The rest of you, stay put. Priority number one is making sure we don’t get caught. Do not let these people see you. I don’t want a shootout until we’ve got reinforcements.”

Tag clung to the shadows as he and Bull padded down the corridor. Other, smaller corridors branched off throughout the facility. Uncertainty tugged at him as he moved. Maybe he should have waited for the marines with the rest of his crew. But he might not get another chance to confront Hannah. She could hold key information to this operation.

But no matter how he legitimized it, he knew the real reason he wanted to face her. He wanted to hear it from her directly—why she had chosen to betray humanity. Why she was working with the collaborators.

The sound of her voice trickled through the hall. Up ahead, a triangle of yellow light leaked through a cracked door. Through the crack, Tag saw a bank of holoscreens. A dark shape was silhouetted against them.

“Yes,” Hannah was saying. “All the beedle-gee you want if you get rid of the colonists.” Silence for a moment. “However you have to do it.”

There was a longer pause, and then an exhale. Even though she was nothing but a shadow from Tag’s vantage point, he could see her shoulders sag, her chin tilt to her chest. Her fingers brushed through her hair as she shook her head slowly.

“Let’s go,” Tag said, pulling out his pulse pistol. He counted down on his fingers.

Three. Two. One.

Bull kicked through the door. Tag leveled his pulse pistol at where he expected Hannah to be. Before he could do more than blink in surprise, Bull lit up in a crackling storm of green electricity as the personal energy shield on his suit overcharged. He fell limp, and his head cracked against the floor.

“Drop the weapon, Tag,” Hannah said.

Tag let his pulse pistol fall from his fingers. He looked at Bull through the corner of his eye. It was impossible to tell how badly the marine was hurt. He wanted to reach for his wrist terminal; a quick tap would reveal the data streaming from Bull’s suit’s biosensors.

“He’s still alive,” Hannah said as if she was reading his mind. “At least he should be. I wasn’t expecting the energy shield.”

“Bull might be alive, but you have blood on your hands, Hannah. The Imoogi, the colonists, the marines. Why are you doing this?”

She flicked a selector on the side of her weapon. “We have to.”

“It’s not too late. You’re smarter than this. Better than this. Call off whatever you’re planning.”

Hannah walked toward him, keeping just enough distance that he couldn’t try to disarm her. “You’re no diplomat. What are you, Mil Intel?”

Tag laughed. “No, not even close. I’m a goddamn scientist, like you.”

“I’m so much more than that now.”

Tag could see a slight tremor as she held the pistol toward him. It was a model he didn’t recognize. He met her eyes and recognized the emotions he saw there. She had likely never aimed a weapon at another human before shooting Bull. Tag recalled the feelings of adrenaline and horror when he’d first killed someone—albeit a Drone-Mech—and the nightmares that had followed.

“Enviro-Cosmos and Lorris are just shells, aren’t they?” Tag said. “You’re working for Starinski. But do you know who they are working for?”

Hannah’s stoic expression cracked for a moment. Tag pressed on.

“They call themselves post-humans, but we’ve been calling them the Collectors,” Tag said. His eyes fell on the dragon tattoo pulsing along her wrist. “Do you know what they’ve done to other races? Do you know the type of genocide and enslavement they practice?”

The cold mask returned as she regarded him. “Some sacrifices must be made to survive. Those who don’t embrace the future are destined to be forgotten.”

“You lied to me, Hannah. That night... under the stars, everything you told me about humanity embracing the future and making our own fate. Instead, you’re going to let our fate be decided for us.”

“That’s not true. The SRE is holding humanity back. We have to succeed. We have to survive. And to do that, we have to be uncomfortable. We have to challenge ourselves and push ourselves forward.”

“Uncomfortable? That’s what you call it?” Tag’s chest heaved, tendrils of fire twisting in his gut. “You saw Coren? The Collectors enslaved his people using nanites. That’s not embracing our future—that’s resurrecting the worst of our history.”

“No, Tag.” Hannah shook her head. “I’ve met post-humans. They’ve shown me what humanity could be. How we could control our own evolution rather than wait for nature and passing millenniums to do it for us. We can be the masters of our destiny.” She sighed. “Tag, don’t you get it? You met a post-human. Did it show you the Luminals?”

“Lumi—?” Then Tag understood. “You mean those strange beings that appeared on the UNS Hope. The ones they say massacred most of the crew and then made others go crazy?”

“Yes,” Hannah said, her eyes gleaming. “You claim to be a scientist, so how do you explain that?”

Tag’s silence was answer enough.

“You can’t. We can’t. Even the post-human can’t. But they’re trying. When the Luminals decide they’ve had enough of humanity, the SRE won’t stop them. Only the post-humans will save us.”

“There has to be a better way. The Collectors are going to use the people you’ve abducted as lab rats. You’re hurting people, not saving them.”

“Look at what people do to the indigenous life-forms of other planets. We barge in, exerting our influence over the environment, whether it’s intentional or not. The Luminals probably look at us no differently than we look at the insects floating around the steam vents waiting to be squashed and taken prey by something stronger, something smarter. The post-humans saw that. They figured out before we did that there are dangers out there that humans could not possibly imagine, and we had to be prepared.”

That was the fear that had sparked the Collectors to embark on their zealous quest to conquer humanity and force the whole of humanity to follow their path. They were driven by fear. The fear that there were more powerful beings out there, dangers beyond human. It was driving Hannah now. She wanted humanity to succeed. She thought the SRE was weak, ineffectual. That the current form of interstellar human civilization wouldn’t last against the denizens of the galaxy. She had said as much to Tag before.

He should have been satisfied knowing this. But he wanted her to admit it. Wanted to know there was still a shred of humanity left in her. That she wasn’t actually on some hell-bent, maniacal quest for power or money.

“Please, Hannah. There are other ways. We’re scientists, for the gods’ sakes. We can find another way to prepare ourselves without all this subterfuge and treason and taking human lives!”

“You and I both know that the advancement of medical science—our very understanding of biology and physiology—didn’t come cheap. There is no substitute for experimenting on live subjects. I don’t relish it, but we must test the post-human genetic treatments to ensure they will work on all humans.”

Tag searched her eyes for something other than cold determination. Where was the woman who’d lain in his arms while they counted the stars? Was she still in there somewhere, or had even that been a lie? “Come with us. Give the SRE a chance. Give me a chance.”

“I can’t do that, Tag.” Hannah took a step toward him her weapon raised. “I don’t suppose I can convince you to join me?”

Tag pictured Ezekiel on the Dawn. The post-human Collector had tried to persuade him their cause was righteous. Necessary. But Tag couldn’t agree with the egotistical unilateralism of it all, the selfish idea that every sentient being, including humans, should bow to the Collectors’ will in some crazed attempt to combat a future invasion by the near godlike Luminals.

“I’ve made my decision,” Tag said.

“So have I,” Hannah said.

She squeezed the trigger. A blue bolt stabbed into Tag’s chest. There was no pain. Just the cold sensation of his muscles and joints locking. Then everything released, and he collapsed. His head smacked against the floor, and he saw only Hannah’s feet. She walked away from him and tapped on the terminal.

“Site B armed and loaded,” a computerized voice said. “Site A primed. Detonation in ten minutes.”

“Goodbye, Tag,” Hannah whispered.

Then she left.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

––––––––

The dull throb at the back of Tag’s skull was nothing compared to the pain of Hannah’s betrayal. He tried to will his muscles to work, but the only thing he achieved was a surge of raw frustration. He was as paralyzed as Bull.

Gods be damned, he thought. He needed to reach his wrist terminal to warn Sumo, Gorenado, and Lonestar.

He saw movement in his periphery. Bull was trembling, his mouth opening and closing. “C-cap...” he stuttered.

Before he could finish the word, a deep rumble shook through the facility. Would this really be the end for them? Paralyzed and left to die in an explosion on a goddamn worthless rock like Orthod? Hannah hadn’t even had the guts to kill him herself. Maybe that would help her sleep at night.

The quaking intensified, shaking dust from the domed ceiling. Tag’s fingers twitched, and he managed to clench them into a fist. His lips started to work, though he could make no sounds. The paralysis was wearing off, but not fast enough.

Then footsteps pounded down the corridor. Bull’s hand stretched toward his rifle, but the weapon might as well have been a kilometer away. The marine’s eyes locked with Tag’s. A fire burned in them. Tag could tell what the man was thinking. No warrior deserved a death like this, paralyzed and unable to fight back.

You bastards. He tried to say the words, but they came out in a meaningless gargle.

Figures burst through the door, weapons raised. He’d come so close to unraveling the link between Starinski and the Collectors. So goddamned close.

“Captain!” Sumo called. She knelt next to him and propped his head up.

“You okay, boss?” she asked.

Tag mumbled something completely incomprehensible.

“All clear in the passage,” Coren called from somewhere behind Tag. “Let’s go!”

Gorenado and Lonestar lifted Bull between them. The sergeant’s legs moved as if he was a toddler trying to walk for the first time. Pinpricks spread from Tag’s toes and into his legs. Sumo and Coren each took an arm, and the group dragged Tag and Bull back toward the ship’s bay. The Forge of Blood was gone.

But Hannah’s shuttle was still here.

“Load them up,” Coren said. “I can’t defuse the bomb, but I can open the shuttle bay.”

“You got it,” Gorenado said. He and Lonestar dropped Bull into one of the shuttle’s crash couches and clicked the restraints together. Then they helped Sumo secure Tag.

Coren jumped into the pilot’s seat. The door to the shuttle closed with a bang, and the thrusters growled to life.

“Was that the bomb?” Tag asked. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. “Thought we had ten minutes.”

“No, that was the bomb at Site B. Caused a small earthquake,” Coren said as he pulled back on the shuttle’s controls and guided it into the moon pool. The world turned dark blue around them. The shuttle’s lights were their only guide through the murk.

“Alpha, did Cho set up the planetary defense systems?”

“They appear to be experiencing some kind of technical difficulties. Cho claims they are associated with the earthquake,” Alpha replied over the comms. “He said this is the issue he reported to you before. Every time there is an earthquake, the defense systems go dark.”

“Cap, I’m not one for coincidences, and this seems like an awful big one,” Sofia said.

“You got that right. It’s all connected. That old fission bomb going off at the test site.” Tag shook his head. “Make an earthquake, then take the defense systems down. Alpha, there’s no reasonable explanation for how an earthquake would affect the orbiting defense systems, is there?”

“There does not appear to be a probable and reasonable explanation to me, Captain. Unless, of course, these manmade earthquakes are simply, as you all might say, a smokescreen.”

“We’ll have to check the marines’ logs later,” Tag said. “But for now, catch the Forge... it’s going straight back out into space.”

“We’ll do our best,” Coren said. Then he made a call over the public comms. “Alpha, what’s your ETA?”

“One minute from your position,” she said.

“The Forge has already taken off,” Coren said. “Track them.”

“It’s a stealth shuttle,” Sofia interjected. “How are we supposed to track it?”

Coren almost smiled. “Check the frequency I just sent you.”

“I’ve got a ping,” Alpha replied.

“That’s them,” Coren said. “I managed to get a transponder on their hull.”

“Like the one Lonestar put on the Argo?” Gorenado asked.

Lonestar recoiled at that. She’d been duped by a collaborator into installing the transponder on the Argo that enabled the Drone-Mechs and Collectors to track their ship.

“The one I installed won’t survive a hyperspace trip.”

“Damn,” Tag said. He tried massaging his jaw with his trembling fingers.

“As you humans would say, no dice,” Coren replied. “The only way we can figure out where they’re going is if we board the ship.”

“Then that’s what we have to do,” Tag said. The shuttle shoveled through the water. Light glowed ahead, and then clear blue sky appeared. “Alpha, did we get those reinforcements?”

“Cho gave us one squad,” Alpha said. “The rest are back at the Principality.”

Tag was almost afraid to ask the next question. “Is he posting guards around the town?”

“Yes, Captain. He also told me to tell you that you owe him one. After the footage we showed him, he wants to have a discussion with you to understand, and I quote, ‘what in the gods’ name is going on in this hellhole.’”

A fan of orange light exploded from below them. Water burst upward in a spray of mist and expanding gases. Tag was thrown about in his restraints, the aches in his body turning to fire. Site A had detonated. The facility below was gone.

A sudden loss of acceleration jolted his stomach. The wailing alarms and crimson lights flooded the cabin. Through the shuttle’s windows, Tag watched gray smoke plume from one of the thrusters.

“Gods,” Bull growled. “Can’t you fly this damn thing straight, Coren?”

The Mechanic gave Bull a one-fingered salute that he had picked up from the humans.

“I’ve got you in my sights,” Sofia said.

“The Forge is about to clear the atmosphere,” Alpha said calmly.

Tag’s mind raced as he tried to figure out their next move. Before they could chase down the stealth ship, they needed to rendezvous with the Argo and Cho’s men. But by the time they did that, the Forge would be in hyperspace.

“Alpha, secure us with a grav tether. We won’t have time to dock with the Argo.”

“But without—”

“Yes, I know. We won’t have the safety of an energy shield, and we don’t have any goddamn weapons. But right now, the Forge’s crew doesn’t know we can see them. They think they have the advantage.” As he thought of the abducted colonists and marines on the Forge, Hannah’s words repeated through his head. Some sacrifices must be made to survive. “Fire on the ship. Engines, then weapons. In that order. It’ll all be for nothing if they get away.”

“To be clear,” Sofia said, “the hostages are still on board, right?”

“Yes,” Tag said. Then, with more confidence than he felt: “There’s no other choice. We’ll worry about the hostages when we board, but the only way we can do that at this point is if you kill their engines.”

Tag closed his eyes, grateful his crew couldn’t see his face. He was risking the lives of innocents to complete his mission. How was that any better than what Hannah had done?

CHAPTER FORTY

––––––––

The shuttle lurched as the Argo snagged it with the grav tether. Momentum pulled Tag’s body against his restraints. The shuttle rattled, ill-equipped to deal with the maneuver.

“Engage energy shields,” Tag said. “Sofia, keep us on the Forge’s tail.”

“They’ve got to be getting nervous now, Skipper,” she said.

“Then let’s not give them any time to think about it. Alpha, let loose with the Gauss and pulse cannons as soon as you have a lock. Give her everything you’ve got.”

“Yes, Captain,” Alpha said after a pause.

He knew what he was asking of Alpha was no easy task. She had to aim blind, with Coren’s transponder her only guide. A sudden flurry of orange bolts lanced from the Argo. The rounds seared through space. Tag watched, waiting for some sign that they’d found a target.

Nothing. The pulses disappeared into the darkness as if they had fired at a ghost.

“Mark trajectory and acceleration maintained,” Alpha reported. “All signs indicate that I have missed.”

“Keep at it,” Tag said. Hannah and her crew knew the Argo was on their tail now. They’d be racing to make the jump to hyperspace.

Alpha unloaded another salvo. The shuttle was tucked close enough to the Argo’s belly that its fuselage was caught in the shockwaves. The little craft shook, and Tag’s fingers tightened unconsciously around his restraints. A trail of fire tore through the vacuum. Tag’s vision narrowed on the bands of orange, like streaks of violent magma stretching to grasp their unseen foe.

Then, a spark of green.

They had scored a hit.

“Recalculating now,” Alpha said, sounding far more confident than before. The hit would hardly count in another skirmish. In this one, it made all the difference. They hadn’t damaged anything, but now they knew where the ship was in relation to the transponder.

Another volley exploded from the Argo. This one did not go unanswered. Cannon batteries thumped from the Forge with a force Tag could feel in his gut. Lasers, pulse rounds, and PDC fire filled the space between the two ships. Sofia maneuvered the Argo so that Tag could no longer see what was going on through the cockpit viewscreen.

Sofia was clearly trying to shield the shuttle from the incoming fire, sacrificing mobility for the lives of her captain and the rest of the crew. The shuttle was now pressed against the Argo’s hull. Every growl of the cannons, every spat of incoming fire absorbed either by the shields or the Argo itself rocked the shuttle, too.

“Damage report,” Tag said after a teeth-rattling jolt.

“Shields down to twenty percent,” Alpha said. “Forward-hull integrity compromised. Fusion reactors and engines at sixty-five percent.”

“And our target?”

“Difficult to tell,” Alpha said. “Cloaking shields still appear to be functional. Acceleration maintained.”

Damn it, Tag thought. He glanced at his wrist terminal. Only twenty or thirty seconds, if they were lucky, before the stealth ship reached a safe hyperspace-transition distance from Orthod. That was assuming Hannah wouldn’t risk an early transition.

An incoming kinetic round plunged through the Argo and grazed the shuttle’s hull. A plume of white gas froze into many crystalline shards that pinged against the cockpit.

“That was too damn close,” Sumo said.

Then another volley slammed into the Argo. The shuttle smacked against the larger ship. Another orange round of pulsefire gouged the Argo like a knife. Tag bounced in his restraints, his bones scraping together.

One of the Argo’s impellers had gone dark.

“Engines down to thirty-five percent,” Alpha said.

“I’m giving it all I’ve got,” Sofia added, her voice shaking with effort or pain, “but they’re getting away.”

“They will not get away. Alpha, you’ve got to do this!”

Tag thought she answered in the affirmative, but he couldn’t be sure. A cacophony of cannon fire drowned out her reply. Tag felt the thudding weapons deep in his core. His whole body hurt from everything it had endured recently. The more the Argo bucked, the worse the fires in his limbs and nerves became. He heard the whistle of gas escaping pipes and the spark of broken wires, the desperate cries of the cannons charging. Over and over they burst, as if the Argo was bellowing challenges at Forge. The ship wouldn’t be satisfied until its enemy was gone.

“Engines at five—” Sofia stopped as another violent explosion rocked the Argo. “Never mind, engines down, Captain. Engines down!”

We aren’t done until every last cannon is quiet, Tag thought. You can do this. You can do this.

He wasn’t sure if he was talking to the ship or Alpha or himself. Maybe the gods.

The Argo was badly damaged, but Tag wasn’t going to give up. The Forge had lost its stealth shields, and after one final volley, its impellers and cannons went dark. Both ships were crippled, drifting through space. “Captain,” Alpha said. “The Forge’s shields are down. Their engines are no longer functional, and they’ve stopped firing. All weapons appear disabled.”

“Then it’s time to board,” Tag said, reaching for his harness release. “Tell Cho’s marines to get ready.”

“That will not be possible,” Alpha said. “The passenger hold took a direct hit. There were casualties.”

“Dead?” Tag asked.

“Uncertain, Captain. Communications are down.”

There wasn’t time for regrets. Later, Tag could second-guess his decisions and grieve for the marines. “Alpha, get down there and see if you can help those men. Bull, do you think we can take them on our own?”

Bull was silent for a moment. “You don’t fight with the army you want. You fight with the one you got.”

Tag nodded. “Coren, we’re going in.”

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

––––––––

The grav tether released the shuttle, and Coren eased the craft out from under the Argo. His ship was in bad shape. Not the worst Tag had ever seen, but it still made him slightly sick. Alpha and Sofia were trapped in there, along with the injured marines. The ship could easily become their drifting metal tomb.

His medical instincts kicked in, telling him to stop their pursuit of Hannah and the collaborators. What if Alpha couldn’t help all the marines?

But far more was at stake than just those individuals’ lives. The Forge held its own cadre of prisoners whose lives were in the balance. And if the collaborators escaped, there might yet be more untold and uncontrolled damage on other colonies around the galaxy. They had to stop Hannah and the others, gather what intel they could, and see who they could save aboard the Forge. It physically pained him to abandon the marines injured in the Argo, but he had little choice when the future of humanity might be at stake.

“Alpha, once you’ve seen to the wounded, start repairs immediately on the Argo’s engines,” Tag said. “Second priority is shields.”

“Captain, I estimate eight to ten hours will be required for essential repairs.”

“I understand,” Tag said. “Start now.”

The shuttle puttered on. Smoke no longer trailed from the shuttle’s damaged thruster, but Coren still had to jockey with the craft to keep it under control. As they approached the Forge, Tag tried to judge the best place to gain entry. With Coren’s plasma cutters, they could make an entrance wherever they damn well pleased, given enough time. But time was not a luxury they could afford. A gaping hole had been torn into one of the cargo holds. Debris floated from it like the shredded entrails of a wounded animal.

“You think that’s where they kept the hostages?” Lonestar asked.

“Does it matter now?” Sumo said bitterly.

“Assholes,” Gorenado said, his large fists clenching into shaking fists. “I’ll stomp every goddamn one of them aboard that godforsaken piece of shit.”

Bull merely nodded, his fingers drumming on the side of his rifle.

There was no avoiding the debris as Coren guided the craft into the wound in the ship’s side. Bent shards of the hull and severed snakes of wire clunked against the shuttle. A body in an EVA suit drifted past, a splash of blood obscuring the dead person’s features. Tag’s fingers tightened around the straps on his crash couch. The crew fell silent.

Was that Hannah?

The shuttle glided to a stop. A single red emergency light flashed across the interior of the Forge, painting the scene in bloody light.

“That’s as close as we can get,” Coren said.

Tag nodded, undoing his restraints. “Bull, take lead on this. Priorities are—” He had to pause and think for a moment. As much as he wanted to rescue the hostages first, their mission was vital to the survival of the whole human race. “Priorities are gathering intel from the ship’s systems, capturing Hannah and any collaborators alive, and rescuing the abductees.”

“In that order, sir?” Bull asked.

“In that order.”

Something flashed across the marine’s face. His lips twitched as if he wanted to question the order.

“Is there a problem?”

“No, sir,” Bull said. “Understood, sir.”

The shuttle bay doors opened, welcoming them into the eerie silence of the vacuum. Static fizzled over the comms as they slipped out, one by one. A few slight adjustments with his propulsion jets led Tag into the debris field. He couldn’t help searching for the people the collaborators had kidnapped. He prayed he wouldn’t see their broken stasis chambers leaking fluid or the bodies already destroyed by depressurization.

Through the flotsam he went, following Sumo. She shoved aside a piece of bent scaffolding, and as the debris shifted, the body of one of the collaborators floated by listlessly. His face shield was cracked, revealing a pulpy mass of unrecognizable tissue.

The marines constantly swept their rifles back and forth, searching for contacts, but the only movement was the gentle drift of weightless debris.

“Keep an eye out for a working terminal,” Tag said. A flurry of affirmatives reached his ears, but the state of the cargo hold didn’t give him hope. The only terminals he saw had cracked screens and protruding wires like broken blood vessels.

Sumo floated toward an intact airlock. “Want to see if anyone’s home?”

“Coren, get us in there,” Tag said. “If you can’t override the system, you’ll need to cut us a door.”

Coren glided up to meet the airlock. He paused next to the terminal controls, but they too were nothing more than shredded wire and shards of polyglass. The Mechanic’s fingers, even in his EVA suit, deftly twisted the wires. Maybe he would be able to short the airlock and force it to open.

“No power to the door,” Coren said.

Maybe not.

“Clear the hatch,” Sumo said. Her fingers rested on the emergency airlock release. She pulled on it, flinching as she did, waiting for the door to explode outward. It didn’t move. “Your turn again, Coren.”

The Mechanic drifted back into place. Blue plasma jetted from one of his wrist-mounted weapons. It bit into the alloy of the airlock hatch. The artificial atmosphere hissed out, freezing into snowflakes. At last, the hatch tore off its hinges. Beyond it was another door, the inner airlock, but this one was attached to a functional terminal.

Coren inserted a data probe into the terminal. “Local access only from this port,” he reported. “Stand by for forced entry.”

The interior door rocked outward, hemorrhaging more pressurized air. That wasn’t the only thing streaming out. Orange streaks of pulsefire lanced toward them. The collaborators had been waiting for them. Through the hail of bolts, Tag saw that the defenders had secured themselves to stanchions to hold their positions against the pull of depressurization. Tag took shelter behind a twisted piece of structural support. Coren recoiled, pressed tightly against the bulkhead, not daring to move. The Mechanic had no cover, nowhere to hide.

“Return fire!” Bull roared.

The defenders were relentless and desperate, spraying the hatch with pulsefire, but the marines had to choose their shots carefully to avoid hitting Coren in their crossfire. One of Coren’s wrist-mounted weapons flickered on. The twin barrels of the weapon glowed blue, bright as a grav impeller.

“Careful,” Tag said, seeing what the Mechanic planned to do.

“Technical advice from a human?” Coren chided. Tag could practically see the subtle tremor at the corner of the alien’s mouth, the almost-human smile the Mechanic had adopted since becoming a member of the Argo’s crew. “Hold your fire!”

The marines ceased shooting. Coren risked moving to aim down the corridor. The overcharged plasma weapons let out a blinding flash of azure lightning that made Tag wince. The light held steady for what seemed like an eternity, though it had only been a few seconds. It was nonlethal, but the blast should have knocked out a few of the defenders and temporarily blinded the rest like an old-fashioned flash-bang grenade.

Bull didn’t hesitate. “Go, go, go!”

The marines stormed through the airlock. Tag’s vision narrowed as he shot forward, desperate for cover. Flashes of gunfire erupted all around him, and a cold jet of adrenaline surged through his vessels. The corridor was a jumble of fallen latticework and peeled bulkheads. Defenders were hidden around corners and bent hatches. Shots glanced off alloy, singeing anything they touched. This would quickly turn into a battle of attrition, and Tag feared how much time they might waste entrenched here.

Coren paused by the hatch and pulled down a lever. The airlock behind them slammed shut, and air hissed as the ship repressurized. A rumbling shook the bulkheads, followed by the whine of emergency generators. Lights flickered on, then off. A constant strobe accompanied the flashes and barks of gunfire. Alarms shrieked, and a robotic voice announced a litany of complaints about the paralyzed ship:

Fusion reactors offline.

Hull breach detected.

Life support systems critical.

Emergency evacuation procedure initiated.

Tag’s heart rate spiked at that last announcement. The ship must be equipped with escape pods. That was where Hannah would be heading.  

“We’ve got to move!” Tag yelled, squeezing off rapid shots with his pulse pistol. A defender retreated into a nearby hatch and then promptly sent back a wave of blind fire.

The clatter of metal against metal sounded. He barely heard it over the cacophony of voices and alarms and gunfire, but Tag’s stomach twisted as he recognized the sound. It took him a fraction of a second to spot its source. Something had landed only half a meter in front of him. A weak blue light blinked atop it.

“Grenade!” he bellowed.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

––––––––

Instinct overrode everything else. There was no time for thought. There was nowhere to hide. No chance to weigh his options or calculate the odds.

Tag picked up the live grenade.

A voice called at the back of his head, It could blow any moment. It could blow now. It will blow now.

An image of his body turning into a fine red mist flashed through him. His muscles tightened and twitched. He expended every bit of energy he could muster to throw the damn thing as far from him and his crew as possible. The blue light blinked as it rolled off Tag’s fingertips. It somersaulted through the air, twisting end over end. Arcing over Coren, then the marines. Back to the bastard brazen enough to risk depressurizing this whole corridor permanently.

The grenade never completed its return journey. It erupted into a flash of bloody red and burning orange. Tongues of fire licked the already-scarred bulkhead. The concussion threw Tag backward. Pain rocked through his skull, and the air was expelled from his lungs. Gorenado’s bulky body slammed into the bulkhead. He landed in a mess of limbs.

“Gorenado!” Tag yelled. He scrambled toward the marine. Pulsefire flew overhead. He ducked under it, heart hammering, scanning Gorenado for injuries. A finger-sized shard of metal had pierced his abdomen. That was bad enough. But the worst damage might yet be invisible. Internal bleeding. A concussion or traumatic brain injury. Even now, the marine might be paralyzed.

Gorenado’s head lolled, and then his eyes fixed on Tag. The big man’s face contorted into something that might have been a grin or a grimace.

“Gods be damned,” he growled, waving Tag off. “I’m good, Cap. I’m good.” The man stood then collapsed again. Tag heard the marine’s labored breathing over the comms. His lungs rattled, indicating a possible collapse or fluid buildup. Not a good sign.

Tag helped heave Gorenado to his feet, his back braced against the bulkhead. “Take it easy,” he cautioned.

The marine laughed then winced. “No can do, Cap. Got a mission to complete.”

“Gorenado, you still with us?” Bull called over the comms. “Stay back and secure the shuttle. We might still need it.”

“You got it, Sarge,” Gorenado said. He fired off a salvo of rounds at the defenders, seeming satisfied to have an order despite his injuries.

Bull lived up to his name, charging into the fray. Lonestar came next, blasting at the collaborators that tried to flank Bull. Tag and Coren followed with Sumo guarding their rear. They barely had time to pick targets, instead relying on spraying and praying to keep the bastards down. Onward they pushed in a blur of exchanged gunfire and yells. Rounds glanced off the marines’ armor, some pinging against their personal shields but others burning through and leaving singe marks. One of Coren’s wrist-mounted weapons turned into a sad blob of slag after a direct hit.

The scent of melted plastic permeated through Tag’s suit. Harsh, jarring sounds of battle rattled against his eardrums, interspersed with the ship’s calm announcements about all its failing systems and emergency procedures.

Evacuation pods readied for ejection.

A defender curled out of a door, ready to unload a fresh spray of pulsefire. Fueled by adrenaline and fury, Tag fired first. The collaborator fell forward, his suit marred by pulsefire.

And then there was no more gunfire. No more screams of pain or desperate cries to end a desperate battle. A flood of cool relief washed through Tag. There, at the end of the passage, was a hatch emblazoned with a single word: Bridge. They’d made it to the heart of the Forge of Blood.

“We’re there,” Tag said. “Let’s go!”

Coren cut through the hatch. Once it gave way, the marines stormed in and secured the area. Their rifles scanned the banks of terminals and holoscreens, the crash couches and blinking lights.

It was deserted.

“Coren,” Tag said, “get their destination coordinates now. Upload all data logs to Alpha and shut down their evacuation procedure. Prevent any pods from ejecting. She’s not getting away.”

Coren was already working furiously at a terminal station before Tag could finish the order. Bull and the marines fanned out, guarding the various passages leading to the bridge. Tag strained to hear voices or footsteps. But the clatter of Coren’s fingers against the terminal and the groaning and creaking of shifting structural supports was all that he heard.

“Captain,” Alpha’s voice broke over the comms, “we are receiving your data upload.”

“Thank you, Alpha.”

Somewhere deep inside the Forge of Blood came the biting sounds of metal grinding against metal.

“Evacuation operations ceased,” Coren said. “One evacuation pod was released. Looks like it already transitioned into hyperspace just like one of your courier drones. The others are stalled.” He paused for a moment. “Someone is trying to override the computer systems from down there. They’re shutting off intranet access.”

“Then I guess we’ll have to stop them the old-fashioned way,” Tag said, raising his pistol. “Do you know how to get to the evacuation pods?”

“Yes,” Coren said. “I discovered a map.”

“Then we move. Now!”

They charged down the corridor with Coren leading the way.

“Gorenado, you holding up back there?” Bull asked as they ran.

“I’m still here,” was all Gorenado said.

“Get that shuttle ready,” Tag said. “If the collaborators are all evacuating, we may need it very soon.”

“Count on me, Captain,” Gorenado replied.

Tag heard the forced bravado in the words. He imagined the pain in the man’s chest. Gorenado needed a regen chamber or at least rudimentary medical care. There were so many lives at stake. The hostages. The people of Orthod—colonists, marines, and Imoogi alike. His crew. The rest of the goddamned SRE. The pressure built up in him like a swelling storm front.

“We’re almost there... look out!” Coren yelled. He dove for cover, and the marines followed suit.

Then Tag heard a familiar voice.

“Don’t take another step.”

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

––––––––

Hannah stood in the corridor with a pistol in her hand. Several of the Forge crewmembers were working on the manual emergency releases of the escape pods. They carried on as if they hadn’t been interrupted, shoving stasis chambers into the small craft. One of the collaborators was bent over a terminal. He seemed to be the one that had been disconnecting the pods from the computer system.

Hannah’s gun wasn’t pointed at Tag. Instead, she pointed it at the naked, scared woman still wet with stasis fluid standing next to her. The woman’s limbs trembled, her face blue with cold. Tag knew her. Beth Foster.

Porter stood beside her, with another man and two women that Tag guessed were the other missing marines Cho had reported. They leveled their weapons. Tag and his crew had the advantage of cover, otherwise he probably already would have gone down in a blaze of pulsefire.

“Not another step,” Hannah repeated. “Not another shot, or this woman dies. Her blood will be on your hands.”

She turned to look at the collaborator working on the terminal. “How much longer?”

“Almost done,” he said.

“Turn around and leave, Tag,” Hannah said. “Take your precious ship and get the three hells out of SRE space if you don’t want to join our future. It’s that or die here.”

Tag heard Bull, talking on a private comm channel to Gorenado, whisper something behind him. But Tag’s attention was on Hannah and Beth. “W-where,” Beth stammered. She shivered, her arms folded over her chest in a feeble attempt to warm herself. “Where’s Sam? Help...”

She trailed off, her eyes sweeping the stasis chambers in search of her husband.

Tag watched Hannah’s eyes. She wouldn’t take an innocent life. She was an idealist at heart, even if her cause was misguided. “You can’t do it,” he said. “You’ll have no excuse this time, Hannah. No one else to blame but yourself. If you do this, you’ll be a murderer, a monster.”

Beth continued to shake. “Oh gods, what’s happening?”

“You’re wrong, Tag,” Hannah said. “I’m already a monster.”

Then Tag saw something in her eye. A glimmer. The budding of a tear. It frightened him more than anything he had seen so far from her. He knew what it meant. What it foreshadowed.

“No, Hannah,” Tag said, aiming his pistol at her. He saw the marines in his periphery aim their rifles. “Don’t do this.”

He tried to do the math in his head. How long would it take to disable Hannah and the handful of technicians and henchmen with her? There would be no way he, Bull, Sumo, and Lonestar could take them all out in a single volley. It would take seconds, maybe just a fraction of a second, to stop all the armed bastards, assuming their aim was true and their trigger fingers fast. But that moment would be more than enough time for the collaborators to take him and his crew out.

Backing away now wouldn’t mean Beth or any of the hostages in their stasis chambers fared any better, though. The collaborators were taking them to the Collectors, and Tag saw what became of those people. They would be prisoners trapped in their own bodies, destined to serve as experimental specimens and nothing more.

All those thoughts pressed against Tag’s skull. Sweat trickled across his forehead, stinging his eyes.

“You’re a damn marine, Porter,” Bull said, then looked at the others Cho had reported missing. “All of you. You took an oath to protect the SRE, and you think this is how you do it? End this.”

Hannah gave Porter a sideways glance. She seemed uncertain when Porter shifted. But the man’s aim never strayed.

“I am protecting the SRE,” Porter said. “I’m helping secure our future. And you’re stopping us. Do what the doctor-lady says.” He stepped forward, jabbing his rifle toward where Lonestar had taken cover. “Drop your damn rifles and go.”

Tag noticed the collaborators’ fingers tightening on their triggers. There was heat radiating off of them. “You’d really just let us go?” he asked, staring hard at Hannah. “It’s that easy, huh? Turn around and walk away, and we can just forget all this ever happened?”

Hannah nodded, twisting the pulse pistol against Beth’s temple. Hannah was a good liar, but her skills would only go so far. Neither she nor the collaborators had any intention of letting them get off this ship. “You could come with us. Embrace our future.”

So that was it. Either Tag died on this ship or he became one of the Collectors’ test subjects. No thanks. He steeled himself, all his muscles tensing. Bull kept his rifle on Porter.

“The answer is and always will be no,” Tag said.

Porter reacted before Hannah could say anything. Pulsefire blazed against the bulkhead as Lonestar ducked. In response, she exploded upward and fired back. Porter dodged under fire. Another collaborator charged Lonestar and ripped her rifle from her grip. He wrapped an arm around her neck, and she yelled, pushing the man’s arm backward until it snapped. She seemed fueled by some unholy rage. Other collaborators descended on her, and Tag squeezed his trigger, firing at the one closest to him. The scene devolved beyond anything Tag had predicted.

His heart pounded in his ears, and his vision narrowed until all he saw were the sights on his pulse pistol and whichever collaborator was closest. There was no cover in the center of the corridor, and all he could do was fire, doing his best to suppress the enemy. Voices cried out in pain and fright, anger and animalistic fury. Lonestar pounded a collaborator, breaking the man’s face shield. There was a splash of black singe marks across the marine’s shoulders. She paid no heed to her injuries, thrashing about like a machine with a single directive: kill the enemy.

Somewhere amid the bodies and flashes of pulsefire, Tag lost sight of Beth and Hannah. A grinding metallic sound pierced the din, and Tag’s gaze shot to one of the escape pods firing off. Another hatch slammed shut; another escape pod launched.

“Alpha,” Tag yelled, firing as he pressed himself against the bulkhead. “Get the grav tether on those pods. Don’t let them escape!”

“I’m sorry, Captain, but they are out of effective tether range,” came her maddeningly calm reply.

“Gods damn it,” Tag bellowed. The hostages loaded on those escape pods were already gone, whether they had transitioned into hyperspace yet or not. But there were still others he could rescue. Others he could help. Hannah was dragging Beth into a pod, dragging the doctor away from her patients, her husband, and her life on Orthod.

He fired at one of the collaborators as Sumo charged to lend their support. Tag heard the click of another escape pod hatch closing. As the doors spiraled shut, he saw Hannah’s eyes flash, catching his.

You do not get to win.

Tag leapt toward the terminal for Hannah’s pod. He slammed his fist on the glaring red hatch override. The door opened before Hannah could pull the lever to launch it, and Tag leveled the gun at her heart. His eyes remained locked with hers. The world had narrowed to just the two of them.

“Let her go, or I shoot.”

“No,” Hannah said. She pressed the barrel of her pistol hard into Beth’s temple. The dragon tattoo flashed on her wrist.

Tag adjusted his aim, square into Hannah’s face. He couldn’t miss. “You can’t do this.”

“No,” Hannah said. “You can’t. I can.”

There was a blast of gunfire, a spray of red. A millisecond later, a second blast. Hot pain lanced through his arm, and his fingers snapped open. His pulse pistol clattered to the floor, and a body fell forward into him.

It didn’t fall; it was pushed. Hannah had shoved Beth at him, knocking him off balance.

Fresh pain scorched through his leg as another orange blast of pulsefire burned through his flesh and muscle. He collapsed onto the deck just as the pod’s hatch slammed shut. Then Hannah was gone.

Tag pushed past the agony burning through him. He had been hit, but he was alive. Bleeding, yes. But it wasn’t fatal.

The same couldn’t be said for Beth.

Her eye, the one that remained, was glassy and unseeing.

Tag held the dead doctor in his arms. Nothing could bring her back now.

The smell of burned plastic and the coppery scent of blood hung heavy in the air. Tag gently laid Beth on the deck. His pistol was long gone, dropped in Hannah’s escape pod. Fitting. He turned to see what help he could offer his marines, but with only one good arm and pain thundering through his thigh when he tried to stand, he was nearly useless.

Bull fired a final shot into a collaborator, and the man fell backward against a bulkhead. Sumo’s chest heaved as she helped Lonestar. The marine had all manner of scrapes and burns visible through the tears in her singed suit. Tag dragged himself to her. He tore an autoheal gel pack from his suit and smothered it over the marine’s pulsefire wounds.

“No prisoners?” Tag managed to ask. The pain swooping through his body made him light-headed for a second. Coren tried to help him, but he waved the Mechanic off. “Three hells, didn’t we get at least one of the bastards alive?”

They’d lost. Hannah had escaped, the rest of the collaborators were dead, and the hostages were long gone.

“Captain,” Alpha said, “I intercepted a transmission from one of the escape pods. I believe it is a command to initiate the self-destruction of the Forge of Blood. I calculate you have less than a minute to escape.”

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

“Gorenado, please tell me the shuttle is ready!” Tag said over the comms.

“Shuttle’s coming in now near the escape pod hatches,” Gorenado responded, his voice sounding weak and raspy. “Me and the shuttle are both a bit banged up. I’m not much of a driver to begin with, so there might be a couple of new scuffs on the shuttle.”

“Scuffs are better than an explosion,” Tag said. Pain still surged through his muscles with every movement. He willed the barrier between his professionalism as a doctor and a captain to segregate the mourning and regret. Quell them before they overwhelmed him. There would be time for those emotions later. For now, there were other lives depending on him.

He examined the hatches again. “There’s no way for the shuttle to lock with these.” Normally that wouldn’t be an issue. They could afford a spacewalk. But Lonestar’s suit was shredded from battle. “Anyone see an extra EVA suit for Lonestar?”

Coren opened the storage containers near one of the escape pod control terminals. “Looks like there were supposed to be some here, but they’re gone now.”

The marines rifled through the other drawers. “Nothing, Cap,” Sumo said. “I can run back—”

“No time,” Tag said. He looked at Lonestar. Her attention was on Tag. She seemed to understand exactly what Tag had in mind, no doubt recalling her SRE basic training for space missions. “Got to make sure you exhale everything. Got it?”

“Got it,” Lonestar replied with none of her usual gusto. Her bottom lip trembled slightly. Tag recalled the same horror stories they had all heard about ship engineers detaching from tethers and losing suit pressure, about pilots who had been hit by enemy fire only to be ejected into space, their suits compromised and their bodies exposed to the unforgiving void. About mutineers launching their victims out of airlocks. Bodies swollen like canteens and blood vessels bursting.

But hard-vacuum exposure was survivable. It just wasn’t fun. It took twelve to fifteen seconds to lose consciousness. Two minutes, maybe more if you were lucky, of gas expanding in their tissues and liquids within their cells vaporizing. You could be brought back from that—if you didn’t try to hold your breath, making your lungs pop like overinflated balloons.

“Lonestar,” Tag said, holding the woman’s shoulders, “I need you to push every ounce of air from your lungs.”

“Captain, by my estimates, you have less than thirty seconds remaining,” Alpha said.

“Gods be damned,” Tag muttered. “Gorenado, you out there?”

“Ready now, Captain,” Gorenado responded. “Cabin door open.”

Tag wrapped his arms around Lonestar. “Hold onto me. You’re going to lose consciousness out there, but I will not let you go.”

Lonestar nodded meekly, wincing through her injuries.

“Coren, let us out,” Tag said.

The Mechanic nodded, then tapped on the terminal, forcing the emergency hatches open. The alarms went silent, the flashing lights all left behind. Tag tumbled through space. Lonestar’s eyes pinched together as if in pain, her lips pursed. She was holding her goddamned breath. Even as they somersaulted away from the Forge, careening toward the shuttle, Tag maneuvered his fist over Lonestar’s diaphragm. He did his best to perform a Heimlich maneuver. All the air escaped Lonestar’s mouth in a mist of ice shards.

Panic overtook Lonestar. The best training couldn’t adequately prepare someone for suffocating in vacuum. She writhed in Tag’s arms, and Tag did everything in his power to hold on, ever conscious of the imminent explosion on the Forge. Not a comfortable place to be, Tag knew, but he wished the marine would at least quit flailing to make the trip a little easier.

He struggled to maintain his grip on the marine, and each kick or flail reignited the flames of agony deep in Tag’s muscles. Cold crept through the punctures in his suit, but the autosealing mechanisms fought back enough to keep the holes to a pinprick. Still, he shivered uncontrollably.

Finally the marine went limp, losing consciousness. Twelve seconds in the void. Fifteen more to detonation.

They swooped through the open door of the shuttle’s hold. The other marines and Coren were close behind. Bull came in last and pulled the switch to shut the doors. Warm air pumped in. The temperature and oxygen readings on Tag’s HUD returned to safe levels, but while Tag had quit shivering, the surgeon had not. He grabbed an emergency blanket from their first aid supplies. Bull helped him to throw Lonestar into restraints. Before Tag had even buckled his own latch, Gorenado accelerated at a rocketing burn away from the Forge.

There was no inertial dampener in the shuttle. It wasn’t built for interstellar travel, much less escaping exploding warships. Structural joints and supports creaked and groaned, bending under the forces applied by the maxed-out thrusters. Alarms flashed on the holoscreens. But Gorenado paid them no heed.

A flash of blinding white light cracked through the darkness. It slashed through the shuttle, and Tag shielded his eyes, the burn scalding his retinas. Debris slammed against the hull. Each impact made Tag cringe. One strike could punch a hole in the craft, depressurizing the cabin and killing them all. A hit to the reactor would set off a chain reaction, leaving them in no better state than the Forge.

Not today, he thought. Not after we’ve lost so much already.

Tag stared straight ahead through the cockpit, as if doing so would make the shuttle fly faster. A marker on the holomap indicated the Argo growing ever closer, and the sounds of scrap hitting the shuttle became more and more sporadic. Tag’s breathing slowed, but his fingers still tremored. Pain was returning to his wounds. He tapped a command on his wrist terminal for his suit to administer more painkillers. Not enough to dull his senses too much, but enough to let him take care of the others.

“Coren, take Gorenado’s place,” Tag said. “I need to check him over.”

Blood had pooled around the fragment of metal still protruding from Gorenado’s abdomen. It was a wonder Gorenado was even conscious, much less capable of piloting the shuttle. Tag adjusted Gorenado’s suit-dosed drugs and used several of the autoheal gel packets from the first-aid kit. He needed to get him back to the ship and into the med bay.

As Tag helped Gorenado, he tried to keep his mind focused on the tasks at hand. But his thoughts continued to stray. He saw Beth’s face, the other colonists. All lost because he hadn’t been quick enough. Because he had hesitated when he should’ve shot Hannah right away.

“Cap, you okay?” Sumo asked. “Anything I can do to help?”

“I’m fine.” Tag tried to shake the dark thoughts from his mind, but they weren’t going anywhere. “Can you apply pressure to this gel?”

He made room for Sumo to hold the autoheal gel in place on a burn across the marine’s back.

“It’s not your fault,” Sumo said in a low voice as if she didn’t want the others to hear. Bull was trying to warm Lonestar at the other end of the hold. She was still unconscious.

“We lost those people,” Tag said. “We lost Beth.”

“Next time we see Hannah and those other assholes, we will make them pay,” Sumo said.

Tag cauterized a bleeding vessel. “Damn right. And we can’t forget about the Collectors. I’m hoping whatever we uncovered is going to be enough to end Starinski and bring down the walls the collaborators have been hiding behind. It’s about time.”

They continued working together silently. Soon every wound on the marine was bandaged and wrapped. With the emergency blanket covering him again, he looked more like a soldier taking a quick nap rather than a man who had just endured gunfire and vacuum exposure.

Alpha’s voice broke over the comm. “Captain, we have a visual on the shuttle. We’re prepared for docking.”

“Thank you, Alpha,” Tag said.

Another strip of the Forge’s hull bounced off the shuttle.

“I’m ready to get off this tin can,” Lonestar said. “Bucks harder than anything at the rodeo.”

“Lonestar, how are you feeling?” Tag said.

She blinked her eyes. “Can’t see straight. My head hurts like it was stomped by a cow. But... I think I’m alive, aren’t I? This sure as the three hells ain’t heaven.”

“No, afraid you’re stuck with us,” Tag said.

“Captain, I have more good news,” Alpha said. “With the aid of the ship’s AI, I have been able to decrypt and parse much of the data from the Forge and the Lorris facility. I believe there is some information here that is pertinent to our mission directive.”

“What did you find?”

“I discovered concrete evidence Starinski is working with the Collectors, as well as evidence of abductions on Orthod and other colonies orchestrated by Starinski personnel. I have also uncovered the apparent locations of Collector facilities for experimental work along with what appears to be some military operations.”

“Goddamn,” Tag said. A smile struggled to form over his lips. “That is good news, Alpha. Good work.”

“I could not have accomplished it without your efforts,” Alpha said.

“The droid’s trying to be modest,” Sumo said. “Kind of cute.”

“I do not believe I fit the aesthetic of cuteness,” Alpha responded. “I might suggest you are suffering from some kind of psychological trauma if you would assign such an adjective to me.”

“Hey,” Gorenado managed, his face still a touch gray. “Sumo’s into some weird stuff. No need to try and diagnose it.”

Sumo grinned. “Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.”

“What you all do in your free time is up to you,” Tag said.

There was a lull in the conversation, and then Bull said, “I guess this means we’ll be leaving Orthod soon.”

“That make you sad, Sarge?” Sumo asked.

“A little bit.” Bull mimed wiping a tear from his eye. “Gutfire is great, but I’m going to miss the brew at the local pub.”

Tag tried to laugh along with his crew, but his heart was heavy. This was only a small victory, a skirmish in the war. Tag realized he hadn’t even kept track of the lives he and the marines had taken today.

Their success here had come at a tremendous cost. Tag shuddered, feeling the cold grasp of countless ghosts reaching into his chest. If this was an indication of the war to come, he feared the price humanity would pay to resist the Collectors. Images of the people trapped in the stasis chambers and memories of the Drone-Mechs flashed through his mind. He imagined a future in which the Collectors won, with the SRE in ruins and humanity in chains. Freedom was worth any price. Tag looked out the cockpit, seeing the Argo glimmer among a diamond-studded backdrop.

Their future was in the stars, and Tag would do everything in his power to ensure that the Collectors didn’t steal it from them.

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

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It had taken several long days in space to ensure the Argo could limp toward Orthod’s surface and survive atmospheric entry. Tag had spent the time scouring the data they had recovered. He was on his way to explain their findings to Governor Burton and Lieutenant Cho, from the malfunctions in the planetary defense systems to the abduction of the colonists. He had held off from sharing too much information over lightbeam, preferring to do it in person.

Tag entered the building.

“Brewer,” Cho said, standing.

Burton smiled. “Glad to see you made it out alive.”

“Me too,” Tag said. Burton motioned for him to take a seat. Tag wrapped his hand around the back of it, but he couldn’t sit before addressing the burden he’d been carrying on his conscience. “Lieutenant, I want to express my sympathy for the men and women lost in the attack against the Forge of Blood. Governor Burton, I am deeply sorry for the lives of the colonists that were lost in our attempted rescue.”

“Apologies be damned,” Cho said. He tilted his head, thumbing his chin as if in thought. “Why shouldn’t I request the SRE fusion-bomb the shit out of those fish? We lost three marines defending the Principality against the Imoogi.”

Tag turned to Burton, fully expecting her to unload on him next.

“We lost five colonists,” Burton said heavily, “not including the ones kidnapped prior to the attack.”

“Again, my condolences,” Tag said. “But our enemy isn’t even on this planet. It’s not the Imoogi. Those addicts we warned you about—they were manipulated just like everyone else involved in this mess.”

Tag hadn’t gotten a response yet from his courier drone to the Montenegro. Three hells, he didn’t even know if the Montenegro had survived the aftermath of the attempted mutiny against Admiral Doran. Without orders from the SRE to guide this conversation, Tag decided to start at the beginning. People were going to find out soon enough that the Collectors were out there gunning for humanity, and he might as well plant the seeds of truth now rather than trying to help the SRE cover it up.

At least, he thought, Hannah had been right about that. The SRE was too cautious. Too slow to react. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.

From the Drone-Mech attack on the Argo to the encounter with the space station that had been the UNS Hope post-human, Tag left no detail out. His story was met with various degrees of doubt, from Cho cursing him out and calling him a madman to Burton claiming this was another horror story to convince the colony to give up its independence. Tag had been prepared for that. He brought as much video, audio, and data evidence as he could muster. Eventually it was enough to push past Burton and Cho’s disbelief.

“What you uncovered from the labs shows this beedle stuff was made there?” Burton asked.

“Right,” Tag said. “Apparently Hannah and some other human collaborators had tried to use nanites on the Imoogi, but they weren’t successful. Nanite technology, especially when used on aliens, is extremely complex.”

“So they resorted to turning them to addicts,” Cho said. “That’s some evil shit.”

“That’s right,” Tag said. “And according to the Forge’s logs, the Collectors are working with human collaborators to abduct and recruit people on other colonies, too.”

“Gods be damned,” Cho said, shaking his head. He punched one meaty fist into the other. “Can’t believe these Starinski assholes are working with them. Why in the three hells would they do that?”

“Maybe it’s just greed. They were the company that funded the initial nanite research on the UNS Hope that the Collectors used. They originally weaponized it, and now I believe they’re working with the Collectors because, as ridiculous as it sounds to us, they’re selling Collector technology back to the SRE.”

“Like that stealth ship of theirs?” Cho asked.

“Exactly,” Tag said. “It’s strikingly similar to the Mechanics’ stealth technology.”

Cho pounded the table. “Shit! Starinski makes those goddamn planetary defense satellites. They were responsible for the outages, weren’t they?”

Tag nodded. “The earthquakes were just them detonating an old bomb from the Lorris group’s smuggling operations.”

Burton’s face grew flushed even as she remained straight-lipped. “If I had known...”

Cho sighed. “Give me a break.”

Tag saw their newfound comradery cracking and tried to get them back on track. “Look, what’s done is done. We’re here now, and we can’t waste our time bickering among ourselves. This colony won’t survive if the Collectors and their collaborators succeed.”

“Damn it all,” Cho said. “There’s something else I want to know. You said you came here because a bunch of marines tried to kill Admiral Doran. Now why in the gods’ name would any marine do that?”

“That’s the question that started this all,” Tag said. From his wrist terminal, he played the holo that Ezekiel had shown him of the lightning-like aliens. The Luminals, Hannah had called them. Burton and Cho watched in bemusement as the strange beings absconded with dozens of crew members from the Hope. “This is what sparked the survivors of the Hope’s crew to turn themselves and their offspring into the Collectors.”

Cho raised an eyebrow. “And this video is why marines tried to kill Doran?”

“It convinced Hannah to work for Starinski. She convinced the marines to join her cause to defend humanity,” Tag said. Just like she tried to convince me.

“Shit,” Cho said. “Did she... did she turn any of my boys and girls?”

Tag shook his head. “We found no evidence anyone in your platoon was being recruited.”

Cho let out an audible sigh of relief.

“What about my people?” Burton asked.

“Recruiting colonists, other than to work in her lab, was not part of Hannah’s directives,” Tag said.

Burton nodded as if she had expected such an answer. “And you’re sure the Imoogi no longer pose a danger to us?”

“I am not one hundred percent positive, but the official stance of the Imoogi government is to maintain the treaty you signed with them. You might have some issues with addicts, but the Imoogi are working to rehabilitate those they can.”

“Good. As long as my people are still safe.”

“That’s the point, though,” Tag said. “None of us are safe anymore. Not you, not the SRE. Not the Imoogi, for that matter. As long as the Collectors are still out there, we’ve got to be on guard.”

“Then what can we do about it?” Burton asked.

“Join the SRE and fight with us,” Cho said.

Burton shook her head. “You already know my answer on that. It hasn’t changed.”

Tag struggled to control his frustration. “I’m not trying to strong-arm you here, but you have two options, Governor Burton: ally with the SRE or watch your people suffer and die. Which is it going to be?”

“I thought you weren’t actually an SRE diplomat,” Burton shot back.

“I’m not,” Tag said. “I’m just telling you what I’d do if I were in your shoes. Because if you were in mine, you’d be damned worried about what the Collectors intend to do with your colony. I’ve told you what’s going on. You can do with that information what you want.” He looked at Cho. “I also asked Admiral Doran to ensure that the Starinski components of the planetary defense network are taken down. That includes all the comm equipment they installed. Once that’s replaced, you shouldn’t have any issues communicating with the SRE.”

“So long as I’m not talking to collaborators,” Cho said.

“That’s being worked on,” Tag said. “Burton, have you decided?”

Burton sighed. “Three hells, when your people get the comm network back in order and we’re no longer getting censored by Starinski spooks, let me know who I can talk to. I want my colony to live free—but most of all, I want them to live.”

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

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Tag returned to the table with a fresh round of beer for his crew. After slipping between Alpha and Sofia, he took a sip of the slightly grassy-tasting beverage. It was starting to grow on him.

“I am still uncertain why humans enjoy this,” Alpha said. “It has a dampening effect on my neural-comp interfaces.”

“That’s why we like it,” Sofia said.

“Because of my neural-comp interfaces?”

“Because of the impact on our whatever interfaces,” Lonestar drawled, already three beers deep.

Coren took a hesitant sip, his nostrils flaring. “I miss the C’reen Dahl.”

“You’re the only one,” Sumo said.

“I don’t know,” Lonestar said. “I kind of liked it.”

The crew had been busy helping the repair bots to prepare the Argo for flight again, but they were short on supplies and parts. Tag hoped his courier drone had gotten to the Montenegro and that Doran—assuming she was still there—would at least send the materials they needed to get the fusion reactors and T-drive repaired for a hyperspace journey.

“It’s nice not getting shot at for a little while,” Sofia said. “Makes me wonder what Doran will have us do next.”

“I would like to have a chance to focus on the scientific aspects of our mission,” Coren said. “There’s a lot left to be done on nanite research.”

Tag traced a finger around the rim of his glass. “I just hope Doran and the Montenegro are safe.” He had calculated the time it would take for their drone to reach the Montenegro and estimated how long it would be before he could expect a reply. The earliest time had already passed three days ago. “I sent just about everything we had to her. What if I was sending intel straight into the hands of the mutineers?”

“If only we could’ve delivered the message ourselves,” Sofia said. “I keep thinking what I could’ve done differently. If I’d flown better, maybe they wouldn’t have hit the fusion reactor. Maybe the T-drive would still be online, and maybe we’d be back at the Montenegro already. Three hells, maybe we could already be going after the Collectors. What I wouldn’t give to get my hands on one of those blue bastards.” Sofia chugged her beer. “Sorry to let you down, Skipper.”

“You didn’t let me down. You got us right where we needed to be.”

“Glad you think so. I still can’t quit replaying everything over and over in my mind.”

“I get it,” Tag said. “Can’t help seeing Hannah’s escape every time I close my eyes.”

“You actually liked her, didn’t you?” Sofia asked.

Tag raised a brow, feigning ignorance. “What do you mean?”

“Come on, Skipper. Can’t put one past me. Remember, before this mess, I used to study cultures for a living. You’re like an open book.”

“Yes,” Tag admitted. “I admired her scientific prowess. Our conversations were interesting.”

Sofia laughed. “Don’t try to make it sound so clinical. You liked her.”

Tag paused before taking another sip of beer. “Didn’t know you were also a psychologist.”

“Not a psychologist. Just a normal human being.” She looked around the table, eyeing Alpha, Coren, and the marines. “Well, the closest to normal you’ve got in this crew.”

“Can’t disagree there.” Tag set his glass down. “I still have a hard time understanding how someone like her joined the collaborators.”

“I’m going to go with cognitive dissonance,” Sofia said.

Tag cocked his head. “And that is?”

“Her worldviews were built around saving life on planets like Orthod, right? That’s why she was so vehement about doing whatever it takes to defeat the perceived threat of the Luminals. She also believes science holds all the answers to our problems. So naturally she thought the Collectors, using advanced technology and science to fulfill their self-proclaimed purpose, were doing the right thing.”

“Where’s the dissonance part come in?” Tag asked.

“I’m going out on a limb here and say she idolizes the Collectors and the technology they’re developing. She thinks she’s a good person and what she stands for is good. So when presented with the idea that maybe taking colonists away for experimentation is a bad thing, she has to reject it. Because she believes she is a good person, and therefore doesn’t believe that she is capable of doing bad things. She justifies what we perceive to be evil as necessary.”

“Sounds like some crazy mental gymnastics,” Tag said. Then after a breath, “You sure you aren’t a psychologist?”

“In another life, maybe. Already got too much going on in this one, Skip.”

“That’s the truth,” Tag said, raising his mostly empty glass.

All around him, people were talking, laughing. A cold spike drove itself through his chest. How many of them would survive the coming storm?

Tag looked at his crew. Behind the carefree expressions they wore was the same darkness that haunted him. As jovial as they seemed now, he knew not one of them would hesitate if—no, when—they were asked to risk their lives again on the next mission. And maybe next time, they wouldn’t all make it back. Nevertheless, they’d keep fighting to save as many people as they could. People who would never know their names or understand how much they’d sacrificed.

“Skip, you good?” Sofia asked staring at his hand.

He looked down, realizing his fingers were chalk-white. His grip threatened to crack the glass. “I will be.”

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

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The repair bots were working overtime on the Argo, which meant the passages of the ship were filled at all hours with the noisy racket of plasma cutters and welders and the scuttle of mechanical legs. The crew had agreed it might be more comfortable to stay in town while the ship underwent repairs. As a bonus, it meant a shorter commute back to their beds at the end of the night.

Tag found he didn’t need the noisy bots to keep him awake. Every chirp of the insects and birdlike creatures on Orthod slammed against his eardrums like a bullhorn. He stared up at the ceiling, counting the rivets in the support beams. Snores echoed from another room. Sounded like the marines had found peace at the bottom of a beer bottle. He hadn’t been so lucky.

Giving up on sleep, he slipped from his bed. He padded as quietly as he could to the door, opening it slowly to prevent it from creaking. He walked outside. A cool breeze blew over him, carrying with it the salty taste of Orthod’s oceans. A few lights hung from poles between other houses and buildings. The streets were empty except for tire tracks and footprints over the dusty pavement. Something sounded behind him, and he instinctively reached toward his hip for his missing pulse pistol.

“Just me, Skip,” Sofia said, closing the door gently behind her. “Nice night out.”

For a moment they both stared up at the night sky. The stars stared back, silent.

“I was going for a walk,” Tag said. “Want to join me?”

Sofia shrugged. “I could stretch my legs.”

They walked out of the town’s gates and over the steam-vent-strewn landscape. It took almost an hour to get to the spot he had had in mind, but it was worth it. Just like the first time Tag had been here, it was almost impossible to see where the sky ended and horizon began.

“All these trees, the water,” Sofia said, motioning at the landscape. “It’s beautiful out here... but I’m guessing you didn’t just stumble on this place on your own.”

“No,” Tag said. “A... friend showed me.”

“Thought so,” Sofia said.

A flock of large insect-like creatures fluttered past. Their wings glowed with dots like starlight as they disappeared between the stalks of tall, waving plants.

“You don’t think the Imoogi will help us against the Collectors, do you?” Sofia asked.

He shrugged. “You’re the xeno-anthropologist.”

“They’re isolationist,” she said. “But maybe not by choice. It seemed more like they got their asses handed to them out there among the stars, so they retreated back here. I mean, judging by those drillfish things they had, they’ve got some cool toys. Might be useful against the Collectors.”

“We need every ally we can scrounge up about now.”

“We certainly do, Skipper.”

“I’ll talk to Burton and Cho again. See if they can’t establish more formal relationships with the Imoogi. Maybe Doran can get a real SRE diplomat down here to work with them.”

“Yeah.” Sofia stared dreamily up at the stars, her hands splayed behind her head as she lay against the grassy hill. “You okay, Skip?”

“Didn’t drink as much as the others. You?”

“That’s not what I meant. I’m talking about Hannah. About all the shit we went through.”

“I’m okay,” he said. Then he shook his head. “Nah, I’m lying. I’m not okay. I’d be surprised if any of us are okay. I’m shaken up, Sofia. Betrayed by Hannah. Watched an innocent colonist die at her hands. Another batch of them sent off to the Collectors. I’m definitely not okay.”

“Thought so,” Sofia said.

“Used your amateur psychologist skills on me?”

“Didn’t need to,” Sofia said. “Skip, let’s just say you’d be a shit poker player.” She shifted to face him, resting her head in one of her palms. “But that’s why I like you. Why we all like you. I just want you to know that.”

“I appreciate it,” Tag said. He sighed. “This has been a rough couple of months. I got to say, I don’t know how I’d do it without any of you all.” He faced her. “Especially you, Sofia. I mean, you saved my ass back on Eta-Five, and I don’t know what I would’ve done without a pilot like you since.”

She grinned. “You would’ve been shot out of the sky.”

“I would’ve been.”

For a while they both sat in companionable silence. The songs of the bugs and birds no longer seemed so abrasive out here. There was something peaceful about embracing the nature around them rather than shutting it out with 3-D-fabbed walls.

A sudden crack like lightning jolted him upright. His heart pounded against his chest. Sofia sprang into a fighting stance beside him. The sky seemed to split open, light flashing in wide arcs, blotting out the stars. There were no clouds, no rain. Nothing to indicate a storm. It wasn’t lightning but the electrical discharge of a ship coming out of hyperspace. Judging by the amount of light, it was a massive craft.

“Gods, no,” Sofia said.

Tag reached for his wrist terminal, ready to signal the alarm. The Argo could still fly. Still fight.

Maybe.

“Think it’s in good enough shape to fly?” Tag asked Sofia.

“I can fly a garbage can if you ask me to,” Sofia said, her eyes set straight ahead, the seriousness he saw in her when they were skirting past enemy fire.

“With the shape the Argo’s in,” Tag said, “that might be exactly what I’m asking you to do.”

More flashes of light exploded overhead, cracking over the sky. Tag counted at least a dozen before he began to lose track. A heavy weight dragged his stomach down. He hadn’t expected the Collectors to arrive so soon to exact vengeance on this relatively insignificant planet.

When his wrist terminal buzzed, he didn’t see the blue face of any Collector or the cold expression of a Drone-Mech. Instead Admiral Doran appeared.

She was smiling.

***

“I’m happy to see you all alive,” Doran said.

“And we, you,” Tag said.

Once again they found themselves in the conference room aboard the Montenegro with its artwork of antiquated wooden naval ships. But this time it wasn’t just Tag and his crew. Another familiar Mechanic sat across from him.

“And Bracken, too,” Tag said. He couldn’t help but smile. “I can only assume you’re here to deliver good news.”

“We are.” Bracken held out a grav wave comm device like the one L’ndrant had given Tag. She let out a sigh as she pushed it over the table. “I regret to say that even Mechanic technology has its issues, especially with a prototype device. We’re assuming the device L’ndrant sent you failed, since you never returned her hails.”

Tag took out his device and placed the slate on the table. “So she’s still Grand Elector?”

“She is,” Bracken said. “The military came to their senses after a marathon of a hearing. Two days of questioning, poring over all the data we had—and everything you gave us before your abrupt departure. All formal charges against you and your crew were dropped. Without being able to galvanize around you as an enemy, it didn’t take too long for L’ndrant to get our people back in line. Which is what brought me here.”

Doran nodded. “We’ve formalized an alliance between the ME and the SRE.”

“That’s great news,” Tag said. “Just to be clear, the SRE no longer wants us for any alleged crimes, either, right?”

“You’re about as free and clear as you can be,” Doran said, smiling. Her smile soon faded. “Bracken and her crew have been helping sift through the ship logs, decrypting all public and private comm channels. They’ve helped me track down a ring of post-human collaborators on the ship, and all those individuals are now in custody. We’ve started investigating the crew members in the rest of the strike group. It’s going to be a long process, but I’m confident we will cleanse ourselves of all the traitors. Thankfully, there weren’t many of them here.”

Tag sensed a hidden “but” there. “Is it accurate to say that’s not the case with the rest of the SRE?”

“At this point, any civilian or government official with ties to Starinski is suspect,” she said. “That’s not to say the entire Starinski workforce and all their contractors are working for the Collectors, but I’m afraid the roots drive deep underground. I informed high command about the attempted assassination plot. They agreed that the post-humans pose a great danger. They were disappointed to hear that Captain Weber’s mission failed, but pleased to know that you’ve been carrying on with his directive.”

“Understood,” Tag said. “I take it the information we gathered on Orthod is useful.”

“Very. I’ll be sending scouts to other remote colonies as soon as possible. We’ll brief them based on your experiences. That being said, you and your crew are still the resident experts of navigating Collector-influenced space. Bracken informed me that her people have been unable to revive any of the Drone-Mechs or the humans you recovered from the Glory of Dawn. She said almost two-thirds of the Mechanic population are caught in what seems to be irreversible stasis. If the Collectors come down hard on us, we’ll need every last man and woman, human and Mechanic, to fight for our freedom. We need these people back. So I have another mission for you.”

“No rest for the weary,” Sofia said.

“Not when war is imminent, I’m afraid,” Doran said. “Although my techs tell me the Argo’s repairs are four days away from completion. Is that enough shore leave for you?”

“I’ll take it,” Sofia said.

As much as Tag wanted to decompress with his crew, he knew every spare minute would be needed to prepare for whatever came next. “What exactly does this mission entail?”

“Frankly,” Doran said, “you have already pulled off what most SRE strategists would consider impossible. Time and time again, you have proven yourselves a capable lot. That’s why you and your crew will lead this mission. Commander Tag Brewer, you will now be responsible for a strike group specialized for the directives I’ve set out. I’m confident you’re our best bet in this fight.”

“Yes, Admiral,” Tag said, saluting her.

Not long ago, Tag had been content in his position performing research and aiding the odd sick or injured crewmember. Now, he was leading a strike group into enemy territory. Once, Tag would have protested that he wasn’t ready to lead, that someone else should bear the mantle of responsibility. But he didn’t protest now. Not when the fate of humanity was at stake. He would rise to the occasion. He would give it everything he had.

Three words echoed through his mind.

Be the dragon.

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The End of Book 4

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Thank you for reading Rebel World (The Eternal Frontier, Book 4). I sincerely hope you enjoyed it. If you did, would you please leave a review? You can leave one as short or as long as you like: http://amzn.to/2wuS42w

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Anthony J Melchiorri is a writer and biomedical scientist living in Texas. He spends most of his time researching and developing cellular therapies and artificial organs when he isn't writing or reading.

Read more at Anthony J Melchiorri’s site.