With a nod to Finian, I am running back down the hallway to the secondary airlock. I slip on my helmet, activate my heads-up display, watch the view from outside the Zero as we flash in and out between the convoy ships. The auto-fire systems in our railguns are good enough to keep the fighters off our tails, though not much more, and our interceptors can keep the cruiser’s missiles at bay. But if more trouble arrives—and it is certainly on its way—we will be outgunned.
“We must be swift,” I say as Finian bundles into the airlock beside me.
“Don’t worry,” the Betraskan says, pulling on his helmet. “I’m just doing this to look impressive. I don’t wanna be over there any longer than we have to.”
He meets my eyes and smirks.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m not much of a warrior, Kal.”
I look him up and down, the rifle in his hand, the lumps of his exosuit beneath his space gear. He is a strange one, this Betraskan. A sharp-edged shell, built around a fragile heart filled with sadness. In truth, we Warbreed have little compassion for frailty. With his disability, someone like Finian would have been cast aside among my brothers and sisters—thrown to the drakkan so his weakness would not infect the rest of the cabal. Such was our way. Only the weak seek mercy. And only the weakest grant it.
But I see the foolishness in that now. I see a courage in Finian that other Warbreed would envy. He asks for nothing, this boy. No favor. No quarter. He lives every moment of his life in pain, but still, he lives it. And he stands, where others would have long ago fallen.
“You look like a warrior to me, Finian de Seel,” I say.
He blinks at that. Opens his mouth as if to speak, but—
“Approaching lead tug now,” Tyler reports. “One fifty klicks and closing. I’ll get as near as I can, but we’re still gonna be coming in fast.”
“Acknowledged.” I look at Finian. “Are you prepared for this?”
He nods, slips his fists into the wall restraints. “Ready.”
I press the controls for the outer door, and with a brief rush of air, silence descends once more. I watch the convoy ships fly past us in a blur, watch the stars tumble and turn as Tyler ducks and weaves through the fire from behind us. I can feel the beauty in this moment. The war in my blood, longing to be unleashed.
There is no love in violence, Kaliis… .
We are approaching the lead tug, its engines burning bright, the dark around us lit by railgun fire and missile bursts. I see the name TOTENTANZ stenciled down its belly. I nod to Finian and engage my thrusters, a digital count ticking down on our HUDs. The Zero weaves and rolls, drawing ever closer, the tug growing in size until it is all I can see.
My lips are still tingling from where she kissed them.
“Now,” I say.
The Zero banks away from the lead tug just as we kick free of the airlock, and I feel the heat of her engines as she roars silently overhead. The endless black around us is aflame, the rockets on our packs at full burn to slow us before we are pulped on the Totentanz’s flanks. I can see our target dead ahead—a tertiary airlock, just below the main thruster array. We speed out of the blackness, me in front, Finian close behind, and my heart is thunder in my chest.
I lean down, engage my magboots, bracing my knees for impact. My thrusters shudder as they burn, the rapid deceleration dragging my belly down into my feet. I hit the Totentanz’s flank hard and my right magboot slips free, but the other holds firm as I come to a bone-jarring halt just below the airlock door. I turn and grab for Finian as he comes in fast behind me. He hits hard, cursing loudly, and I seize hold of his suit as he almost bounces free. He flails, clutching at my arm, black eyes wide as the void around us yawns, but finally, he brings his boots down onto the hull.
“Are you well?” I ask.
He takes a moment to catch his breath, bent double, mouth agape.
“That,” he says, “was not my idea of a good time.”
“Report status!” Tyler says.
“We are secure,” I reply, searching the dark around us. I can see the massive hulks