Star Chaser
Author: J. N. Chaney; Scott Moon
Date: 2022-12-25 05:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Science Fiction
Description: War looms on the event horizon. Faster than light technology is deteriorating. Unknown forces plot to conquer the Andromeda galaxy while the long trusted Transit Technology remains viable. Breaker and his crew must find and rescue a special pair of Avians before it is too late. Their ability to converse with the Ultar is critical, but not everyone looking for them is interested in peace. Can Breaker and his crew bridge the gap between sentient governments and reclaim an ancient FTL device before everything collapses? War looms on the event horizon. Faster than light technology is deteriorating
Publisher: Variant Publications

Copyrighted Material

Star Chaser Copyright © 2022 by Variant Publications

Book design and layout copyright © 2022 by JN Chaney

This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living, dead, or undead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from JN Chaney.

www.jnchaney.com

http://www.scottmoonwriter.com

1st Edition

CONTENTS

Don’t Miss Out

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Glossary

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1

“You’re sure this is the world you want?” I asked. Kalchev’s informant hadn’t been as talkative as I’d hoped. Fathers, Yolo, and Kyn had interviewed him individually and in pairs. I was starting to think taking him from Perseus Station had been a waste of time.

There were few things cops enjoyed less than getting played by a small-time scam artist.

“Yeah, this is the place.” He walked cautiously down the ramp, hesitated at the flight line, then forced himself forward.

I watched his nervousness, spotting it easily. He wore a plain jumpsuit and carried a backpack, gifts courtesy of the APOP Soft Touch. Other ships were disembarking their passengers as well. On the far end of the complex, massive pallets of supplies were being loaded onto a large, long-haul starship. No one involved with the vessel appeared happy. I guessed they were traveling across several systems for vital facility repairs at the edge of human space.

Some were convicts who had traded freedom for a mission that would take most of the rest of their lives. That serious limitation to transit technology could never be escaped. I was glad our longer trips were short compared to what these people were facing. Every few years, top scientists promised new technologies, but though advancements were needed, no one could improve on the faster-than-light travel that had been used for nearly a thousand years.

Ripper looked nervously at a pair of female guards eyeing us. I didn’t know much about the place, only that men were definitely not dominant here. The sentries guarding the small commercial landing pad reinforced that reputation. Exactly the same height, wearing perfect uniforms, and displaying rope-like braids of hair falling down their back. They were at once attractive and intimidating—and I wasn’t exactly a pushover most days.

“This is where my sister said to meet her.” His street lingo had slipped during the trip and vanished once we stepped off the ship. I could still hear his rough, uneducated vocabulary and spot his distrustful mannerisms, like the way he checked over his shoulder every so often and rarely responded to polite greetings.

“Welcome to Jenna’s World,” the first guard said. “What is the purpose of your trip? Business or pleasure?”

“Family reunion, I hope,” he said.

The guard narrowed her eyes—kindly, I thought. Did she know him?

“I’m dropping one off,” I said, pointing at Ripper.

The guard looked me over, her face unreadable. “You’re APOP?” she said as our eyes locked.

“I am.”

“Shield.” She held out one hand.

I pulled my badge from inside my shirt and showed it to her without removing the lanyard from around my neck.

She opened and closed her fingers twice in rapid succession, and I understood what the intimidating part of her demeanor was for—not Ripper—me. I found that interesting because any cop in the galaxy would identify him as trouble. This guard looked like a good officer. She did all the right things. Both she and her partner were alert, professional, and displayed an excellent command presence. They were two women who demanded and received respect, no matter who stepped onto the landing pad.

The question was, why had they zeroed in on me instead of the career criminal? His flashy, long-sleeved outfit only partially covered his tattoos—void the police and you only live once, with a G-5 syringe and gun graphic visible on his neck and trapezius muscles. Very classy. When a section of his slicked back hair fell even a little out of place, a scantily dressed woman was poised with a rail weapon in one hand and a pair of gambling markers in the other.

The second guard studied the ink with interest.

They definitely knew he was in the life. Original gangster all the way around the sun. Laugh now, cry later, and show me the money.

Ripper looked like he was trying to impress a parole board instead of sneak onto a planet known for law, order, and equality.

I lifted the chain over my head and dropped it into her palm. She examined the intricately minted badge without pulling back her hand. Once she had tested the weight of the Alliance of Planets Outworld Police shield, she held it higher, turned it to see it in all angles of light, then passed it to the other guard—who refused to take it for several seconds. When she accepted it, something was weird.

“The last group of APOP agents who came here refused to show their badges, only their ID cards and wrist tattoos,” the second guard said. “Do you have those?”

I hesitated but answered. “We don’t have ID cards or tattoos.”

“Why not?”

“You can scan the badge with any AP approved identification regulating device. There is an invisible barcode on the back, and the metal is unique to our badges. The penalty for forgery is twenty years without parole, and the materials are hard to get even if you know what they are.” I checked my audience and understood they were both watching me carefully. Neither revealed their emotions. Playing poker with these women would be a disaster. “Tattoos would make it impossible to perform undercover duties, and I’m squeamish about needles.”

“Now you are showing deception,” said the first guard. “I doubt you are squeamish about much. Hannah, please take the badge to our guard post to scan it.”

The second guard, Hannah, saluted and complied.

The first guard watched me. “That doesn’t make you nervous? My sergeant taking your precious shield out of your control?”

“Do I look nervous?”

“No. That is why our rails have the safeties off,” she said. “We take spaceport security seriously.”

“What did the imposters do?” I asked.

“Need to know,” she responded. “And you don’t need to know. They moved in pairs like other cops I had known. You’re escorting this man solo. Does that mean you are a badass or stupid?”

“He hasn’t caused me problems,” I said.

She turned her attention his way, then held up a small work screen to compare a picture to his face. “Greg David Smith. Hmmm. I can almost see why you chose such a ridiculous nickname.”

“Didn’t choose it,” he said, then added, “ma’am.”

She raised one eyebrow. “Do you think telling an officer of the law you earned the name Ripper is a good idea?”

He blushed. “Didn’t start as that kind of Ripper. My sister named me. Maybe I talked it up a bit to get some street cred. Keep me out of fights, you know. A name like that, the right kind of Ripper, makes people think twice about jacking someone. I’m not all big like him.” He hooked one thumb at me. “Don’t got no badge to get my way.”

She stared at the street hustler for a minute before she smiled thinly. “I know your sister, and where you actually got the name. Once we’re done with the APOP agent, I’ll have a glide car take you to her.”

“Is she okay?” he asked. “You know her? Really? She… sent you?”

“She is good with animals,” the first guard said. “It will make more sense when you have seen more of our world and her veterinary clinic.”

Ripper’s throat bobbed up and down. His eyes teared up and he couldn’t talk for a moment. “She didn’t have enough schooling…”

The guard waved it away. “Where there is a will, there is a way.”

Hannah returned with my badge and stared at me strangely. She pulled her supervisor aside. They talked rapidly in hushed voices.

“Man, you’re in trouble,” Ripper said. “I bet you’ve never been arrested.” He laughed. “They found something they didn’t expect when they checked your badge.”

I watched the spaceport guards and hoped they weren’t calling for backup—or the APOP field office.

“I knew your name was a convention,” I said.

He shook his head. “Don’t know what that means, but yeah, I made it up.”

“Thought you said you didn’t know what a naming convention is.” I directed my full attention to him. My plan had been to sneak in some final questions, double-check information, as we said farewell. Hannah and her supervisor had just changed my timeline. “You have them convinced your sister gave you a silly nickname, and you turned it into something sinister.”

“Yeah, man. It worked too, didn’t it?” he said. “I never hurt no one, even when I robbed them. Gotta do that stuff to stay alive on the streets. But I never ripped anyone apart, even when I was ripping them off. Scams mostly. You know what I mean.”

I glanced at the Soft Touch and wondered if I could win a race to the loading ramp. Could I beat the Jenna’s World guards in a sprint? Hopefully, but the distance was just enough to test my endurance, especially if I was running flat out.

How undignified would that scene be? You’re ridiculous, Breaker.

“Don’t try to run, man. Cops always catch you.” Ripper laughed. “I love this shit, man. Tables turned, bro.”

“Not your bro.”

“They’re gonna hook you up, and not in a good way,” he said. “I could put in a good word for you since they like me.”

“You’re forgetting which one of us is the APOP agent.”

“All cops are dirty. You’re gonna get jacked up because you’re corrupt like the rest of them, or they’re gonna wreck you for the same reason,” he said. “Bunch of assholes. All of you.”

“Why did you keep working for Kalchev?” I demanded.

He gave me the first really hard look that meant something. Everything before now had been an act, or mostly an act. “He looked out for my little sister and brother. Said he couldn’t send them to Jenna’s World, but he could get them to Earthdale for a better life.”

“Why are you going to your older sister instead of the younger ones who probably need more help?” I asked, following a hunch.

“Don’t wanna mess nothing up for them,” he said a bit forlornly. His eyes watched the guards, and his shoulders hunched.

“Is Kalchev dirty?” I asked right when he was vulnerable.

He faced me. “All cops are filthy, man. But he never did the stuff I spread on the street. No way I’m gonna vouch for him about other things, so don’t ask me. Do your job. Find out for yourself.”

I reviewed everything he had told me and my agents during multiple interviews on the way here. His information had helped and not helped. My loyalty to my old friend still clouded my judgment. I didn’t want any of the Breakers to be dirty, or drug addicted, or indifferent to the plight of our brothers. Kalchev, Saint, and Boomer had all let me down.

How would I let them down?

I filed the question for later. “Can you tell me where Saint would go if he was trying to feed his addiction?”

“I don’t know,” Ripper answered. “Most worlds have dope. Maybe not Jenna’s World. That’s the main reason I want to be here. Seeing my big sister would be great, but I just want to not see all the fiends anymore. Tired of it.”

The supervisor returned. “Greg David Smith, you’re free to go. Please stop at customs. I suggest you leave while you can. Your sister is in the directory. Do not embarrass her during your visit.”

He gave me a mock salute. “See you later, Breaker. Try to stay out of trouble.”

I ignored his departure.

The guard supervisor put both hands on her hips. “I am Commander Angelina Roth. Originally, I came to see if Ripper was who he said he was via the automated pre-customs portal. Hadn’t expected much from the shady asteroid, but his info checks out. And you…” She made a show of examining her handheld work screen. Her dry, measured tone suggested she wasn’t impressed. “Breaker 105, also known as Alliance of Planets Outworld Police Lieutenant Benjamin Wrath.”

I spread my hands. “Got me. What did I do now?”

“What didn’t you do?” She stowed the screen and crossed her arms. “On the one hand, Captain Jensen, your direct supervisor, has put out a detain and report order for you and your crew.”

“My crew hasn’t done anything wrong,” I said.

She flicked her fingers at my interruption, cutting off further argument in that direction. “On the other hand, Morales put in a personal plea for professional courtesy should you be located. He asked that you not be inconvenienced in any way and to support lawful requests for assistance.”

I said nothing.

“This leaves me caught in the middle. I don’t love it,” she said.

“Did you serve under Morales?”

“No, but that doesn’t matter, does it? Everyone respects Morales and his power.” She pinched the bridge of her nose in obvious frustration, held the pose, then released it with a sigh. “I’m going to take the very dangerous middle road—report your presence only. The order to detain you will follow quickly, so I suggest you don’t loiter.”

“Thanks. I appreciate that,” I said. “How far is your Avian quarter?”

“For the ever-loving void and all her saints,” she said. “You really know how to push your luck.”

“My sergeant will accompany me to ensure my good behavior,” I said.

On cue, almost like we’d planned it, Sergeant Cynthia Nova strode across the landing zone, all business.

“That’s your second-in-command, Hot Shot?” Commander Roth said.

“You know her?”

Roth muttered a curse under her breath. “I worked for her.”

“Angelina,” Nova said as she arrived and shook the commander’s hand. “Good to see you again. You’re looking fit.”

“Right back at you, Captain,” Roth said.

Nova smiled wryly. “That rank, and that life, are in the past.”

“I miss those days,” Roth said. “Especially when this happens.” She hooked a thumb at me.

“We’ll be quick,” Nova said.

“Of course,” Roth said. “I can’t provide you a car, or a guide. You understand, of course.”

“Of course,” Nova said, then jerked her head toward the gate to Jenna’s City. “Shall we?”

I shook Commander Roth’s hand. “Thanks.”

Nova and I marched toward an archway that signified the exit. A dozen starships other than the Soft Touch were parked on each side of a linear runway. Few needed the space to launch, but there was always one that required a thruster-based takeoff. The Soft Touch had good anti-grav coils and outclassed most of her competition here.

“Commander Roth seems dutiful,” I said.

“She’s a hard worker. I’m surprised she is only a commander in the spaceport security force. Jenna’s World isn’t an easy place to move around. There are security checkpoints everywhere. Crime isn’t tolerated. Have you ever worked a case here?”

“No,” I answered. “The APOP office here is small. One agent and two support specialists, and the office is on the opposite side of the planet. How fast can we reach the Avian quarter?”

She stopped near a line of yellow and black vehicles. “Not long, if we pick the right glide-cab.”

“Bad idea. Never take a bumble bee,” I said. “That’s APOP academy lesson one for field agents.”

“A good driver can avoid checkpoints,” she said. “Are you ready to bend some rules?”

The question surprised me, especially from her. She was my rule follower, the last to loosen up and celebrate when a case ended. We’d been through a lot chasing down Trace Block. Apparently, I still had plenty to learn about the woman.

“I don’t like it, but sure. Let’s break some rules like it is our job.”

She didn’t laugh at my joke. “I was afraid you would say that. This better be worth it.”

“There’s a cab right there.” I stepped toward the curb.

She grabbed my arm. “Not that one.”

I retreated, then brushed out the sleeves of my jacket as though this would recover some of my dignity. “Why not?”

“The driver isn’t Avian,” she said. “Operating a glide car isn’t a respected profession here. Most of the cabbies will be non-human sentients. Sooner or later, we’ll get an Avian. That should shorten our search for a pair of them meeting Glaynia’s criteria.”

I felt like an idiot. We waited nearly ten minutes and watched dozens of black and yellow vehicles park, gather passengers, and speed away. Nova grew nervous. I caught her glancing at me a few times.

“Relax,” she said. “Jenna’s World requires adjustment.”

I didn’t comment.

Nova pointed to the side of a building covered with intricate graffiti from street level to roof. A few of the scaffoldings remained. The artist, or more likely the team of artists, wasn’t done touching up the mural. “I didn’t realize you were a fan of street art. We saw plenty of it on both Earthdale and Perseus Station. What’s special about this one?”

I thrust my chin toward a signature near the bottom that was nearly as tall as I was: Snow. “I might know the artist.”

“Really?” Nova asked. “Was this mystery person someone who meant a lot to you?”

“She didn’t know how to paint the last time we talked,” I said, dodging the question.

“Maybe she took lessons.” Nova stared at the mural with renewed concentration. I doubted she would guess the artist had been the best combat technician ever to serve in the Breaker Corps and had saved my life dozens of times.

“There,” I said, spotting a driver with the distinctly shaped head of an Avian. “Right on time.”

Nova laughed nervously. “Exactly as planned.”

We fist bumped, then climbed in the back and left the huge mural of flowers growing out of grounded starships behind us.

2

The Avian driver looked in the rearview mirror. “Where to, my flightless friends?”

“Oh look, a birdie who can actually fly. I’ll alert the media,” I said.

Nova gave me a horrified look, but the driver laughed.

“You’re all right, ape man,” he said. “I like your square face. Maybe I won’t cheat you on the fare too much. Have you been to Prime?”

I affected a more serious expression. Dealing with Avians could be like weaving through a zero gravity minefield in a space suit. No two were the same. This guy was a fast talker with no filter. I liked him immediately. “I have, but not since the restrictions.”

The driver nodded solemnly. “Of course. I wish we could all go there and learn peace. Where can I take you, you big, ugly human and your slightly less horrific human friend?”

“As it happens, we’re looking to see the Avian quarter on Jenna’s World,” I said.

He hissed derisively. “Why go to slums? I’ll take you to the shopping district. They have parks and ape music and all the things you like better than the tenement buildings of my people. I don’t even go there. Terrible place. I once saw a clawgave, what you call a sandwich stand, right there on the street.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Nova asked.

Our driver gave her a long, hard, disbelieving look. I didn’t know exactly what he was thinking, but it seemed he believed she might be the doom of the galaxy.

I leaned toward her. “Avians don’t work in the food industry. It’s one of their many taboos. Meal preparation is a deeply private activity.”

“Ah, well I see then.” She won the staring contest with our driver only because he returned his full attention to the glide way.

“Clawgaves aside, what else is new in the quarter?” I asked. “Have there been other visitors like us?”

“You don’t know what the rest of the APOP is doing? What’s wrong with you, ape? You bang yourself with a rock trying to make fire?” He laughed more than the joke was worth. “Sorry, sorry. I mean no offense. Not many sentients like you get in this car. They don’t appreciate my lightning wit and discretion.”

“Hmmm,” I said. “So you would remember if any other apes jumped in the backseat of your glide car, especially if they asked to go to the Avian quarter.”

“Oh hell yes. All the time. I barely have a moment to myself. Lots of sentients. Not many Avians unless they start from our part of the city and return there. Those are the best fares—both ways. Round trips. Definitely the superior return on investment, but not so good for conversation. We’re not talkative, especially when traveling.”

“Maybe you’re not Avian,” I suggested.

The driver laughed. “Maybe, maybe. What can I do but fly?”

Nova laughed nervously, clearly not comfortable with the casual turn of the conversation. I was reminded of my dual experiences with Avians no matter where I encountered them. On one hand I felt intense guilt and remorse at how wrong our early interaction with the uniquely sentient aliens had gone, and on the other, every one of them felt like old friends. More than once I’d gotten myself in trouble by assuming familiarity that didn’t exist.

“Call me Cabs.”

“All right, Cabs. What’s the word on the street?”

“I give too many rides to my people’s neighborhood. Most of the apes and Raziks and Glossers are slavers, I think. Bad, bad, bad way to live—exploiting other sentient life-forms. The APOP should put a stop to it.”

“You think the Raziks are sentient?” I joked.

“Good point,” he said, then glanced back in the mirror, holding up a finger in acknowledgement. “Fierce creatures. By the galactic fates I wouldn’t want to mess with a pack of them. Big two-legged hunters, they are.”

“My job is tracking down and arresting slavers,” I said.

“True,” he agreed. “You’re APOP. Easy to see that. Hope you’re not thinking of going undercover.”

“Tell me more,” I said, leaning halfway into the front seat to make the dialogue even more personal. “I need to know about anyone who might be a slaver no matter what sentient race they are targeting.”

“There have been two or three groups of humans,” he said. “Not in my glider, but I heard of them. All of us drivers talk—no matter what kind of sentients we are. Hanging out around the depot, waiting on our shifts, that’s probably why I’m such an outcast from my people. Too, too, too much contact with lesser sentients.”

“What else can you tell me?” I felt the conversation heading into a cul-de-sac. For about twenty seconds, I’d felt like I was going to break the mystery that began on Perseus Station wide open.

“My brother-in-law’s cousin’s sister claims he took a group of Ultar all over the city and back to the Avian quarter several times,” he said. “I laughed my feathery ass off and asked if he thought the Ultar were invading. Ultar don’t travel much, not outside whatever they have in their own sector, and never in a group.”

“Don’t I know it,” I said as my blood went cold and I forgot about clarifying the convoluted family tree. His brother-in-law, or whoever, had just dropped a major clue in my lap. “I’ve seen too many Ultar for one lifetime.”

“Here?” Cabs asked.

“Here and there.” I processed the new information and suspected Nova had her own theories brewing.

Cabs shook his head and let go a genuine belly laugh—which sounded different from the human version. “Invading! My brother-in-law is a character. So many jokes he doesn’t know he’s telling,” he said as he took a breath to continue laughing. “What’s next? Apes and Ultar teaming up?”

“It’s not that funny,” Nova said, but our driver ignored her.

“Stress response?” I asked, unsure of my Avian culture for the first time.

Nova shrugged.

Cabs wiped a tear from one eye as he accelerated from the main glide way of Jenna’s City, dipped down a steep change over, and cruised into the Avian quarter about three times faster than I thought was safe—and my threshold for dangerous activities was higher than that of most apes. “Welcome to the Avian Trade District, or ATD as you monkeys call it.”

“We do?” Nova asked.

“Ah, the girl primate speaks! Thought you knew how to act, woman,” he said.

Nova’s face went red. I grabbed her shoulder before she climbed into the front of the vehicle and roughed him up.

“He’s baiting you,” I whispered. “Then he’ll be nice, and we’ll both feel guilty and over tip. Avians aren’t the only sentients who do it. I think an enterprising human sells a course on how to part humans from our money.”

Nova growled under her breath and flicked back a strand of hair that had come loose from her tight braid. I turned my attention to rows of sweeping, colorful apartment buildings. As tenements went, they were clean and orderly. Graffiti was another thing Avian culture didn’t embrace. I didn’t see a single restaurant or food cart. There was a mixture of young and extremely old Avians selling feather cloaks to travelers—something I’d never understood. Avians certainly didn’t wear them. Other races looked ridiculous with the brightly colored, intricately crafted garments stretched over their shoulders. Raziks—big, broad shouldered, and rippling with muscles—loved them most of all. Even now I saw a pack of them striding down the boulevard like monstrous birds.

The scene was much different than what I’d left on Avian Prime where most of the buildings were full of holes and leaning precipitously to one side. Those memories were gray, especially in my nightmares.

“Thanks for the lift, bird cabbie,” I said.

He feigned taking offense, snorting and squawking like I’d knocked him down for no reason and taken his favorite coffee cup.

I pressed onward, confident I was back in the groove now. “Tips aren’t in my operating budget, but I could pay for additional assistance. Wouldn’t have much work for you but might allow an ape-loving birdie-kin to go home early—maybe even take a few days off.”

“Sounds sketchy,” he said. “But tell Cabs what you apes are looking for.”

“I need advice on a case, maybe even a pair of expert witnesses. Can you find me a young couple of your people who would work with the APOP?”

My previously talkative driver gripped his steering yoke and muttered words I couldn’t understand. Suddenly, it was like he was moving freight rather than a pair of sentient off-worlders.

I decided to gamble. “I need two Avians to help me negotiate with the Ultar.”

His eyes snapped to mine. “Truly? Why would you want something like that?”

“My assignment is to learn why they don’t talk to us, or any of the other sentients,” I lied. “Communication is the only way to prevent future hostilities.”

“Is that what you think?” he asked.

I nodded and spread my hands, palms facing upward in an attitude of openness. The man would undoubtedly retell the story of my visit, but no one would believe him.

Just like his tale of Ultar searching the planet for pairs of Avians seemed too fantastic to be true.

He slowed, parked, and turned in his seat. “I like you, ape man. Your less hideous female ape friend—I like her less. Thought it would be the other way around, but you are badass enough without being too badass. Cabs doesn’t think you’re a bully boy.” He paused. “You need to go to Avian Prime for that, but I’ll take you a few places where my people will tell you the same thing. No extra charge, just a decent tip, and you have to laugh at my jokes.”

“I can do that, Cabs. You’re a funny, funny man. Missed your calling. You should be a mirth-wing,” I said.

His eyes went wide before he lifted his chin and his beak-shaped face. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

“How far is your Avian quarter?”

“Far enough that I should charge you double,” he said.

I snorted. “When did birdies start cheating honest sentients?”

He guffawed and rattled off words I didn’t understand.

“For the ever-loving void and all her saints,” he said. “You really know how to push your luck. You know some of our castes? Very good, ape man. May the ancestors not pick at your bones in the afterlife.”

True to his word, Cabs took us to a dozen places where Nova and I talked to all manner of Avians. When we were shut down, I cajoled Cabs into twelve more introductions and finally tipped him after he brought us back to the spaceport.

Dropping off Ripper had been the only successful part of our visit. At least the petty scam artist was out of our lives, and I knew there probably wasn’t any way around returning to Avian Prime. I would try every settlement we passed but felt in my gut that a reckoning was coming.

Avian Prime.

The world should have been a place for humans to prove our goodwill to the bird-like sentients. Instead, we had stumbled into the most unnecessary tragedy in the history of the Andromeda galaxy. I pushed the memory away and thought of other things.

The last image I viewed on Jenna’s World was the giant mural painted by Katrina Snow. It wasn’t signed with her full name, but I could tell her style and thought she was still probably a better combat technician than an artist.

3

“Incoming message,” Regina said.

“Put it on the screen with full audio.” I grimaced inwardly at the APOP Warhorse signal designation. Captain Jensen wouldn’t have anything good to say. “Sergeant Nova and Cates are cleared for whatever bad news this is.”

“If you say so, boss,” she said.

Jensen appeared. The tactical uniform many APOP agents preferred when on board a ship was perfectly pressed. Minimalist rank and citation patches rested exactly in their proper places. His short salt and pepper hair was perfectly cut as always.

He leaned back in his chair. The change of posture was slight but seemed significant compared to his normal upright and uber-professional demeanor. Bags showed under his eyes, and it appeared he had been stifling a yawn right before the connection went live—despite the fact that he was the one who had initiated the conversation.

“Breaker,” he said, forgoing my rank or my assignment. “You answered. Half of my bridge crew was betting against you.”

“What are the odds, sir? Maybe I should get in on the action before it’s too late,” I said, stalling until I could get a feel for his mood. Something wasn’t right. Why wasn’t he acting satisfied at catching us here?

“Two-to-one,” he said. “Barely worth placing a bet, but void pursuit is tedious. Sentients need a diversion. Isn’t that what everyone says?”

“Agreed,” I said, fully understanding he was including humans in the statement. “I hope I didn’t turn anyone into a pauper.”

He showed no interest in the banter. “I need you to come in, and I will guarantee you a reasonable level of amnesty, as long as you haven’t compounded your disobedience with other policy violations.”

I waited for more. Arguing with my boss, especially under the current circumstances, was worse than a bad idea.

“Your squad will be easier. I can salvage their careers as you must take most of the responsibility for this mess,” he said.

“Of course, sir. They are following orders. I take full responsibility.”

He snorted. “This isn’t the fleet. Agents have more latitude to interpret orders. They will face some of the music. Thank whoever you pray to for that because it is the same principle saving your troublemaking hide.”

“I have loose ends from several of my investigations to tie off,” I said. “Do you want me running a request through the chain of command each time I need to travel inside the AP?”

“No. You know exactly what I expect and don’t expect. Know this, the Warhorse isn’t the only APOP ship arriving in this system. The APOP Justice will be leading the rest of this void cursed circus event. You understand what that means, of course.”

“The APOP Director is here?” The question popped out before excuses could materialize. I thought of Cab’s request that I take him home. He’d said he liked us apes and promised to help anytime we came to Jenna’s World. I wished the unusually talkative Avian could help us now, but understood I was lucky not to have smuggled him onto the ship without proper authorization.

“He is,” Jensen said. “Do yourself a favor and get your ship in order. Hold an inspection of your agents and have summaries for every case you are working or hope to work during the next three months. I already received my ass-chewing. You’re next, and it won’t be pretty.”

The screen went black.

“The Justice and her support fleet are now registering on my scanners,” Regina advised. “The Director of the APOP is officially in system.”

“Thanks.” I stood from the command chair and stretched. “Nova has the helm. I’ll be on the observation deck. Hold my calls unless it is Jensen or the Director’s designee.”

“Sure thing, boss,” Regina said.

Nova gave me a nod and slipped into the command chair. By the time I reached the door, the ship AI was running a complete systems check and announcing a full inspection for all agents and specialists on the APOP Soft Touch.

The observation deck of the Soft Touch wasn’t large. High-definition screens created the illusion of a grand hall. Every transit generation valued their OD as a place to unwind, a kind of personal shrine when living in the void became too much. We gathered to tell stories or share simple companionship. The place was also great for alone time if you could swing it.

I rubbed my neck, watched the stars and distant nebula, and relaxed. Not one member of my squad had asked for reassignment. They worked harder during their down time than most men and women did during an active investigation. Cates, who tried to convince everyone he was a preeminent slacker, and Kyn were constantly in the flight simulators, always plotting to challenge Nova to a virtual race through digital asteroid fields. Woods sparred with Fathers and Yolo and taught them dangerous hand-to-hand combat tricks.

Each of us pulled duty with Ocantus, our Ultar prisoner. This could mean sitting outside her improvised habitat or, for the truly brave, attempting conversation. None of us could hold out for more than a few minutes despite efforts to filter the air supply. We always spoke through glass or view screens, but her presence remained unnerving. Only Glaynia had a more pronounced effect.

I didn’t look forward to interviewing either of them. Self-doubt was a sneaky companion during the mid-stages of every mission. In this case, I again wondered if I shouldn’t have brought Cabs into the operation as a consultant. Maybe he could handle Ultar interactions better than humans.

The idea was seductive but flawed. All available information pointed one direction. A special pair of Avians was needed to make real progress with Ocantus or any other Ultar representative.

What were the artifacts Ocantus guarded? Why was every political power and criminal organization in the Andromeda galaxy after them? Could I trust Jensen, or the Director, or even Morales?

Sleep danced around the edge of my consciousness. I relaxed deeper into my chair and half dreamed, half imagined flying over Avian Prime. I remembered standing in the open side door of an assault ship, body hurting, armor malfunctioning, and soul aching at scenes of destruction that stretched across the surface of the planet.

What had gone wrong? All we had wanted was peace. Every Avian delegation had shown genuine desire for amiable negotiations. One day I had been sipping coffee with Boomer, Kalchev, and Saint. The next we were fighting for our lives, holding the line as Alliance of Planet forces retreated to temporary spaceports to evacuate with whatever we could carry.

It was all a terrible misunderstanding.

I hated everything about that statement because it had become the most common phrase in our language for months after the incident. Politicians repeated it in every speech. Men and women relied on the lame explanation during conversations that inevitably turned to the tragedy on Avian Prime.

Peace came, but nothing would ever be the same between our peoples. I needed to find a pair of Avians before traveling to their home planet. Minutes turned into hours. Sleep came as I plotted ways to turn the investigation over to Nova. She was more than capable of running the squad. I could supervise from the ship, with the cameras off.

Excuses came easier and easier. My presence on the Soft Touch would be vital if Jensen or anyone else attempted to interfere. Someone had to watch Ocantus, and we needed to be ready for Glaynia’s next demand. She was more powerful than Ocantus in ways I didn’t understand.

There was too much mystery surrounding the Ultar. What could possibly cause so much intrigue? I was a cop, not a spy. I made lists of contacts who could take over, agents with the background for this type of operation.

At the end of the day, I understood the truth even if I didn’t want to accept it. I had to carry this burden until I could turn it over to someone like Morales or maybe the APOP Director.

4

Cates manned the controls of the APOP Soft Touch. Kyn occupied the navigator/secondary pilot’s chair, calmly verifying the landing vector as a squadron of void fighters escorted us to our destination. Sergeant Nova supervised, though I suspected she wanted to be behind the controls if this was to be our last voyage on the ship that had become our home away from home. She eyed the small, heavily armed vessels, and I wondered if she knew the leader of the squadron, or even the pilots.

I had no desire to fly the ship. Nor was I thinking about her much, despite how excellent she’d been to my entire squad. A good ship with a good AI was priceless to a team like ours.

The combat fighters were attached to the APOP Justice, a civilian law enforcement starship. Few citizens of the Alliance of Planets approved of the combat fighters, but none could deny a paramilitary force was required to deal with pirates and other large-scale criminal organizations.

By the AP constitution, the police force was designed to remain independent of the military as insurance against a military coup. Democracy was a fragile thing. In reality, the organizations worked together often, mostly because a third of the APOP personnel had served in the APF and retained their connections with old friends. Often, we needed the military to rescue our anti-piracy task forces, especially in the remote corners of the AP. Criminals never played by the rules. Few had compunctions against using military-grade hardware, even against unarmed victims. We had to counter that.

The Alliance of Planets Fleet and my Breaker unit were in the past. I embraced my new life and the responsibilities that came with it. So while I was comfortable around all manner of military units, whether they were ground forces or space capable, the void fighters worried me.

No one would say so, but our policy violations bordered on illegal. We had stolen a prisoner from my superior officer and refused to bring him back despite numerous direct orders. Captain Jensen hadn’t announced we were under arrest, but that didn’t mean we weren’t. Rules were rules. Violating orders had consequences.

This meeting with Director Lively wasn’t destined to go well.

The APOP Justice was a massive carrier capable of unsupported missions in deep space. She had a support fleet with fully staffed crews on all ships. Conspiracy theorists claimed she also had secret colony ships hidden away and could carry humanity to a new galaxy if things went wrong in Andromeda.

I had found no evidence for or against the rumor and thought it was above my pay grade either way.

The only starship fleet more powerful than what Lively controlled was the APF Jupiter’s Wrath, the flagship battle group of the APF under the leadership of Admiral Chan.

“Are you okay, Breaker?” Nova asked. She consistently used my nickname, just as the rest of my squad did now. Rarely did they address me by my given name and rank.

“I’m fantastic.” Nothing good would come of sharing my concern now, not without actionable intelligence about a remedy to our situation.

She nodded, but I could feel her heightened attention. The rest of the squad were less obvious, yet I knew they were looking to me for cues. When the void debris hit the transit engines, they would adapt and even anticipate my most complex solutions. I couldn’t ask for a better team.

“We’re ready to dock with the Justice,” Cates announced.

“Go for it,” I said and gave him a thumbs-up.

Kyn sat ready to assist. Nova was close at hand to take over if necessary. Docking with a starship didn’t feel dangerous, but everything in the void could kill us. Attention to detail saved lives. Overconfidence was like a rail bolt to the face.

“Control to Soft Touch,” said a voice through our ship comms. “Nice work. You are docked and good to disembark. Welcome to the APOP Justice.”

“Roger that,” Cates said. “We’re glad to be here.”

Everyone stared at our lead pilot once the interaction was complete.

“What?” he demanded. “I didn’t want to be rude.”

“The Justice is an excellent destroyer. She has all the amenities,” I said.

“Probably a very clean brig,” Yolo added from the back of the room.

“Stow that talk, Agent Bozzelli,” Nova said, then faced me before Yolo could respond. “Who do you want as your escort? You’re a decorated APOP lieutenant. It won’t look good to have you carrying your own work screen.”

“Thanks, Sergeant Nova, but I will handle this one solo. None of you were called before the Director.”

“Not by name, but I would argue the order to report went for the entire squad.” Fathers looked to each of his friends. “That makes sense, doesn’t it?”

“One hundred percent,” Woods agreed. Others murmured and nodded.

“I am adept at carrying a work screen,” Kyn stated with characteristic dignity. “Very appropriate due to my status as the second newest member of the team.”

“Fathers has a good point,” Yolo said before I could get a word in edgewise. “Nothing in the order called you by name, sir. He must want the entire squad. Maybe they need updates on all our cases.”

More sounds of agreement circulated the room. Nova watched my reaction. Her hard expression wasn’t easy to endure, even for me. This was a woman who would punch me in the face if she thought it was for my own good.

I nearly relented. How could I deny my team? Loyalty like this didn’t come often. How did I deserve it?

A minute passed. Silence returned. I focused on my second-in-command. “Sergeant Nova, give me your no BS assessment of how I should handle this insurrection. What should a unit commander do?”

She clenched her teeth, but then relaxed enough to answer. “A leader should lead.”

I stood, faced the room, and spoke. “I will travel independently to the Director’s ready room. We can stand together at our termination hearing if it comes to that and whistle Void Star Save the AP. Until then, I intend to convince my boss and my boss’s boss’s boss that none of us are worried. We are well within regulations when exigent circumstances are considered.”

No one spoke.

“I appreciate your support,” I said, almost adding the word loyalty but holding back at the last second. Saying it aloud would be the same as pressuring them. I couldn’t do that in good conscience. This level of dedication had to be freely given.

“Agent Fathers and Agent Woods will accompany the lieutenant to the edge of the landing bay, then fall back to the Soft Touch for further assignments,” Nova said.

I left her to run the squad and strode away to face the repercussions of my actions. Several things were bound to happen. I would be censured and written up. Restrictions would be placed on my entire squad, and I would enter a reckoning period for one to three standard years. Worst of all, though I wasn’t completely sure why it mattered, they would take Ocantus from the Soft Touch and detain her elsewhere—provided they didn’t immediately repatriate her to an Ultar embassy.

Fathers and Woods flanked me to the first security checkpoint, then saluted.

“Good luck, sir,” Fathers said.

“Say the word, and we’ll come and get you,” Woods added, her eyes full of dangerous sincerity.

I should have stomped on her enthusiasm. I prayed to whatever entity truly pulled the universe apart that no one heard her. She would be locked up faster than I would for talking like that.

One look at Fathers told me they had discussed this option at length, and he was down for it as well. We’d been through hairy situations before this, but there was no way in void hell they could break me out of this ship’s brig.

“Stay safe. Keep your head on a swivel. Look after Sergeant Nova and do what she says,” I ordered. “I’ll be back before either of you can squeeze in a workout or take a nap.”

They saluted again. I returned the gesture and began my trek through the titanic warship. Guards checked my APOP shield and waved me through. I knew the way. There was no need to ask for directions. I’d grown up on APF warships and could navigate deck by deck in my sleep.

Hallways on this level were wide enough for ground vehicles, up to heavy armor with nuclear generators and the ability to alternate between giant rubber wheels and tracks as needed. Four sets of rails ran down the middle of the centrally located corridor. Heavy freight, war machines, and troop transports could move as fast as necessary. No one lingered on the rails if they wanted to remain alive.

I pushed back memories of Breaker squads running up and down this section of various warships. As the largest passage on any carrier, it was often the best place to practice both sprints and endurance drills. The floor could handle the abuse of twenty or thirty Breakers slamming their feet down over and over again.

Here in the present, platoons of regular infantry marched double time, probably to nowhere but a turnaround point. The men and women of these units were notorious for causing trouble when not kept busy. They trained nearly as much as Breakers and combat pilots.

The military feel of the place soothed my worries. It wouldn’t be long before I knew if coming alone had been the right decision. In my gut, I knew it was the best way to save the careers of Sergeant Nova and the others.

What I didn’t know was whether any of our careers mattered. The Ultar question bothered me more than ever. Jacob Morales and Jonas Bayle were constantly at odds over how to handle the quarantine of the Ultar sector that had been in effect since the First Transit fleet arrived in the Andromeda galaxy and began to explore.

Engineers repaired and improved bulkheads. Cleaning squads worked constantly causing me to think of the Ship O’ Wash barge I’d seen orbiting Earthdale before this odyssey began. If I’d known what I knew now, I would have asked Morales for help earlier.

But I wouldn’t have turned away from the responsibility of what was becoming the most important investigation of my career. Trace Block was in custody at last, but that wasn’t even close to the end of this. Something about Glaynia’s inference to her husband’s incarceration made me think it wouldn’t last, or that it didn’t matter.

As for their marital status, I wrote that off as rumor and tried not to think of it too much. What kind of man could love an Ultar? The idea exceeded my imagination. I gladly let that part of this mystery go. Some things were better left unknown.

I passed bulkhead forty-nine after traveling on foot from twenty-seven near the landing bay we’d been assigned. Forty-five through forty-nine were reserved for training missions. Men and women were busy here.

The command deck was just beyond bulkhead number fifty. The same number of sections, forty-nine, radiated fore and aft, with nine to the port and starboard sides of the carrier.

I had arrived at the heart of the Alliance of Planets Outworld Police organization. Twenty meters separated me from the end of my career and possible criminal charges.

“Why the hell did I let Jensen talk me into this,” I said, fully aware that there hadn’t been an aspect of negotiation. He was my supervisor, my commanding officer, and presenting myself to the Director had been an order no matter how politely phrased.

“Wrath,” said a familiar voice that pulled me from my brooding.

I turned to see Morales striding toward me. A squad of armored bodyguards flanked him. The rest of their platoon followed, also armored and armed to the teeth—which was unheard of this far into an APOP flagship, or any flagship for that matter. Only ship security had the right to equip themselves to this magnitude.

I shook Morales’s hand. “Good to see you, General.”

“Attorney General, Breaker. The past is the past,” he said. “Though sometimes it is good to remind people.”

“You’re rolling heavy today,” I said.

He shrugged. “I like to show off.” His laugh was contagious. Before I knew it, my troubles seemed trifling, and I laughed like we had in the old days.

“I’m glad to see you before my career ends,” I joked.

“No more talking like that,” he said. “I told you I would protect your career and those of your agents as best I could. This has used up a fair portion of the favors I’ve accumulated over the years, so listen carefully. We don’t have much time to talk.”

He waved back his escort. We strolled the perimeter of this section, buying time before I had to pass through bulkhead number fifty.

5

“Manufacturing a reason to be here wasn’t easy,” Morales said. “You can add that to the countless debts you owe me at this point.”

He checked his six, noted the exact position of his bodyguards, and relaxed his pace. “We have a lot to talk about, Breaker, starting with why you don’t hide better. What part of lay low didn’t you understand?”

“Running an investigation and disappearing are mutually exclusive activities—most of the time,” I said. “I’m no spy. None of my training prepared me for this level of espionage within our own territory.”

“Espionage, huh? That is what it feels like.” He walked a few steps in silence.

“Hiding from the APOP’s finest isn’t easy,” I said.

“You are the APOP’s finest.” He grunted. “At least tell me you still have the Breaker rigs I gave you. Those things cost more than money. I had to call in too many favors to pull them out of mothballs, and more to deliver them.”

A ship security supervisor and two guards approached. Morales signaled for his bodyguards to remain where they were as he handled this development. “How can I help you?”

“Sir, we are directed to deliver Lieutenant Benjamin Wrath to the director’s ready room,” the security supervisor said.

“Of course,” Morales responded. “I’ll only need a moment with an old friend. Just a few minutes to catch up and be sure he’s staying out of trouble. I’ll hand him over to you, Michael, don’t worry about a thing.”

“Of course, sir. Please remain within visual range. I can’t let him out of my sight,” Michael said.

“No worries.” Morales smiled, then gave the man a thumbs-up. “I’m all about following rules. Though I do tend to make my own, don’t I?

“You do, sir,” Michael said. “I appreciate your understanding of my rather delicate situation.”

“Perfectly.” Morales waited until the security team retreated and we were once again surrounded by the relative privacy of deck space.

“There were a lot of ships coming for Trace,” I said. “Senate Security among them. I didn’t know they had that kind of jurisdiction.”

“They don’t,” he replied. “I’m sure you also noticed the corporate mercenaries and pirates besides what Trace commanded. Make no mistake, Breaker, they weren’t just there for Trace and his stolen Helm ship, or his Ultar wife. That’s right, I heard that rumor as well. They were also there for Ocantus and the artifacts she protects. Follow that a bit farther and you can guess anyone stealing her would also latch onto you and your squad, for interrogation purposes if nothing else.”

“What other reason would they have to capture my people?” I asked the question before I thought about it because the idea stunned me.

“Torture, murder,” he said. “Nothing good, that’s for certain.”

“Am I out in the cold?”

“You are,” he replied.

“Will you help me anyway?” I asked, unsure what to expect.

“Don’t confuse me with a miracle worker,” he said, then looked around. “And don’t rely on me more than you must. I am everyone’s friend. Do you know what that means?”

Lights dimmed. The void closed in. I wanted to punch him in the face for being right. His words were a fair warning. I couldn’t criticize him for that.

“Everyone’s friend is no one’s friend when the void calls us home,” I said.

Morales had the decency not to dwell on the point. “I took the same oath you did. For now, I think we want the same things—peace, justice for every sentient, and the chance to retire someday. To do that, we must put the galaxy in order and find men and women we trust to lead us into the future.”

“I still have Ocantus,” I said, testing the waters.

“Does she retain the artifacts?” he asked. “Has she communicated their purpose?”

“None of us can handle her presence for long, not even from a sealed room,” I said.

He gave me a curious look.

“My first face-to-face encounter with an Ultar went poorly. He released spores, or some manner of gas, into the air that spiked my adrenaline. It was like a cloud of fear,” I said.

“A male Ultar? Are you sure?”

“He shouted his name. Candar. Am I sure of his gender?” I considered sharing how Glaynia had climbed out of her living but non-sentient mech, then discarded the idea. If he brought it up, maybe I would talk about what I’d learned. “Who knows? It sounded like a man and his name was probably a male name.”

“But you don’t know more of their culture than the rest of us,” he said. “I will tell you this. It probably wasn’t a male. Only females have been sighted for the last fifty years. A change to that pattern is probably not good news, especially if they are carrying weapons capable of cutting their way out of a space station.”

My mentor was holding back. He knew more about my Ultar encounter on Perseus Station than he initially implied. Of course he had watched all the video evidence of the raid on the Benedict complex. Jensen was an unpleasant supervisor, not an idiot. He would have shared what he discovered with Morales. So would a dozen other sources I probably didn’t know. There was a reason my mentor had such influence in the AP.

“Give me something,” he said.

I mentally sorted my options. “Trace has been stealing pairs of Avians, not murdering them unless something goes wrong.”

He waved one hand impatiently. “Already knew that.”

I stifled my annoyance that he hadn’t shared the information with me before now. There were reasons he would make me find my own answers. Some of them were even good reasons. That didn’t make it less frustrating.

“He does have a relationship with an Ultar woman,” I said, wondering if he’d accessed videos that revealed everything I was holding back. Memories of the Ultar conveyance splitting open to allow Glaynia’s exit soaked up my mental bandwidth for several seconds. I shuddered. “He wasn’t acting like the alpha male crime lord I’ve been chasing for years.”

“I’ll make a note that his relationship with the Ultar has been confirmed,” he said. “Did you talk to her?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me about it,” he ordered.

“I couldn’t concentrate.”

Obviously impatient, he snorted. “They’re terrifying. Fine. Keep talking.”

I had to give him something but wasn’t sure what was important to hold back and what was the best information to barter with. “She demanded two Avian negotiators.”

He leaned back and took several seconds to consider my words. “That confirms two points of intel. If Avians really can talk to the Ultar, then we’ll need our own pair. Expect Director Lively to send you to find some.”

“Are you sure my squad is the best for that mission?” I asked. “We would need upgrades to the Soft Touch and a tactical team. I won’t be able to call for backup, so I need a full-time quick reaction force.”

“What else?” he asked.

“Saint may be involved,” I said.

“He’s a drug addict. Don’t ruin your career trying to help him like Kalchev did,” Morales said. “Forget about Henry Saint. Even if he was onto something, he’s damaged goods now—nothing but a liability, and that’s on a good day. I have other people looking for him. Experts on that kind of thing.”

I waited. This interview was over. I just had to keep my mouth shut and wait for Director Lively to summon me.

“Okay,” he said. “That’s all we have time for. Answer the director’s questions. Don’t play games. Expect him to send you after a pair of Avians. Can you do that?”

“With the resources you promised, sure,” I answered.

“I haven’t promised anything.” He checked his wrist screen. “Where would you start your search?”

“The nearest world with an Avian population,” I said, holding back what I knew would be necessary. Cabs had already told me I needed to go to Avian Prime to find a couple willing to help us, but that didn’t mean I wanted to go there or that I wanted my boss’s boss’s boss to order me in that direction.

Morales, the strongest, most confident individual I’d ever known, shifted foot to foot as he read from his wrist screen. The man was nervous and distracted. “You’ve been summoned. I’ll escort you inside, but I won’t be allowed to stay. Director Lively and I have history. Now isn’t the right time to mend fences.”

“Thanks for the warning,” I said, then stepped away from him and into the Justice security team’s custody. “Gentlemen.”

“Right this way, Lieutenant,” the supervisor said without a glance at Morales. He waved me through the final portal and followed with two of his guards.

A curving barrier of Helm glass surrounded the command deck. Dozens of officers and their NCOs worked without a care for my existence. Director Lively stood on a raised dais near the center, and he saw me immediately. He had one bodyguard close at hand, but I knew the man and wasn’t about to test his willingness or ability to cause me extreme harm.

While the director’s security element was unusually small, his staff officers were numerous and busy. I also saw a half dozen other men and women I didn’t recognize. They looked like a serious group. Some were obviously veterans, others were corporate. All of them wore military style field outfits more like the ones Jonas Bayle and his cronies found fashionable.

I looked back for Morales and saw that he’d been detained near the door, just as he had warned might happen. We shared one last look before the security doors slid together.

Director Lively beckoned me forward. I advanced, came to attention, and saluted. He returned the gesture lazily. Neither of us were in the APF now.

“You took your time,” he accused. The man was tall, skeletal, and formally dressed. His perfectly groomed beard was a failed attempt to disguise his weak chin. Hair refused to grow on his pate and was scraggly despite being cropped short. Sunken, dark-ringed eyes completed the picture. I noticed his teeth were off white, almost yellow. His appearance was, in a word, unfortunate.

There was nothing I could say without attempting to blame someone else—which was bad form even when true. We had an audience. Every gesture, every word mattered from now until I left. Hopefully, that wouldn’t be under the close supervision of two AP guards with orders to deliver me to the Justice’s brig.

“No matter,” he said after several seconds passed. “You’re here now and prepared to answer all questions to the best of your ability.”

“Yes, sir,” I said.

“You scored high marks in the academy, but also during every direct test of your skills or your knowledge base. We won’t go into your judgment and behavior censures.” He surveyed the other men and women who far exceeded my rank. In the background, deck officers went about their duties to the efficient running of the ship. “I expect better from you, Lieutenant.”

I waited for more, but he gave no indication he intended to elaborate. Three men and two women near him began to fidget and I understood I wasn’t the only person on trial. The director was testing his subordinates every bit as intensely as he was testing me.

My breathing leveled. I saw more of the room and took my time cataloging the details. The APOP Justice wasn’t merely well-staffed, it was overstaffed. Most of the officers were mentoring one or more junior officers. Everyone but the director appeared well-rested, as though none had pulled a double shift for a long time.

I smiled despite myself.

Director Lively spread his fingers and folded his hands across his chest. He leaned back in his command chair, just enough to accentuate his disdain of the spineless brown-nosers encircling him like vultures.

Once, long ago, I’d stood before a woman far more powerful than this man. APF Specialist Katrina Snow, my Breaker combat technician, had remained at my side to face Admiral Eliz-Konner—God rest her soul. We’d both been censured for extending a mission beyond the operational plan. On another occasion, we’d stood to receive honors for our defense of the APF Longreach—but that was another story.

“You see, ladies and gentlemen, there is a man who knows how to face the music,” Director Lively said.

“I am a bit tone deaf, sir,” I lied. “That helps.”

“Indeed it does.” He closed a screen that had been open on the armrest of his command chair.

I waited for him to censure me for my seizure of Ocantus and then order my squad to turn her over to an Ultar embassy or his staff. Long ago I had learned the most important rule for encounters with my superior officers—don’t volunteer anything. Wait for them to ask questions, then answer without elaboration.

“I have a memo that claims you are very interested in Avians,” he said.

“Yes, sir.”

“Please elaborate.”

Crap. “My team recently concluded the investigation of a triple murder. We secured an arrest, and the suspect has been detained without bond pending a jury trial,” I said.

He waved for me to skip ahead.

“During the course of our investigation, we learned of a disturbing trend.” I hesitated.

He raised one eyebrow.

“Avians are being abducted and/or murdered in pairs,” I said.

“That’s it?” he asked. “There is no other reason? Weren’t you part of the Avian misunderstanding?”

“I was,” I said. “Everyone received counseling afterward. We were promised memories would fade and that time would mute emotions.”

“That wasn’t true?”

I shook my head.

He nodded. “You’re honest. Everyone of your supervisors claimed as much in your fitness reports.”

“You were there?” I asked, acting on a hunch.

“I was.”

The spectators shifted nervously. More than a few were searching for something appropriate to say. I hoped they didn’t try. This interview wasn’t going as expected, and the last thing I needed was further complications.

“You disappoint me,” he said. “I read your file last year and assumed you would test for promotion.”

“There wouldn’t be much point, sir. I have several official censures, a full suspension, and a robust description of my bad attitude in my file.”

He lashed me with a disappointed, disgusted look I’d never seen before. My heart raced. I wanted to leave. This was like being an awkward teenager standing in the principal’s office.

Right when I was transitioning from embarrassment to anger, he hit me with a new look. “Use your head, Lieutenant Wrath.”

Potential responses rolled through my brain. I was on the verge of explaining Ocantus, then diverted into safer territory. There was a reason he hadn’t brought up my most heinous offense. I didn’t know why he was avoiding it, but I understood, at the last possible instant, it was a topic he didn’t want discussed in this venue.

“My squad worked for over a year to build the case on Tracey “Trace” Block,” I said instead. “Two of my agents were badly injured during one of the warrants.”

Director Lively snorted as though disappointed in my answer, but I knew I’d made the right move. “Don’t try to hide behind the adequate work of your team.” He faced his immediate subordinates and advisors. “Give me a moment with Wrath. I will catch up in the law library. We can discuss the case law that came down through the courts last week.”

His people dispersed.

“I don’t appreciate your close association with Jacob Morales,” he said the moment we were alone. “Avoid him in the future. He is not your boss.”

I said nothing.

He knew better than to push, even though he would win the confrontation. The subject had been laid out, and I made a note to let the matter cool for a while.

“Do not surrender Ocantus to anyone without my direct authorization,” he said.

“Understood sir.” I paused to be sure none of the deck crew were close enough to eavesdrop, though that was Director Lively’s problem, not mine. “This isn’t where I thought this conversation was going.”

“Never make assumptions when talking to me,” he said. “For example, you might think you are off my shit list. You’re not.”

“Understood.”

“You do understand, don’t you?” He thought about something for a moment. “If I had time to reeducate you, maybe we might be compatible. You could rise high. As things stand, I fear you are a one-time tool. Continue your search for Avians who can talk to the Ultar.”

I concealed my surprise.

“Nice try keeping everything to yourself, Wrath. That kicked you in the balls, didn’t it? You thought I wouldn’t know exactly what you’re up to?” He adjusted his sitting position and pushed out one hand to keep me from talking. “Don’t worry. Don’t think too much. Do what I tell you, and you’ll be fine. Until you aren’t fine. Right now, your ability to tolerate an Ultar on your ship and your willingness to speak with Avians despite your service in the Avian Prime misunderstanding makes you valuable. After that, I’ll attempt to find you a job you can’t screw up. Fail me, and there will be hell to pay.”

I stood at attention. “Yes, sir.”

“Insolent bastard. Do you think I like that? What’s next, a military salute?” He sneered in the direction of his subordinates and advisors who hadn’t gone as far as he intended, apparently. “Bring back two Avians who can liaise with Ultar. They will be placed in our witness protection program and kept safe from several other factions who would misuse them. You will be assigned a new team member. This is not optional. Don’t even try to dodge the appointment. If you go to Morales on this one, you will one hundred percent regret the decision. Trust me.”

“Yes, sir.” I stood firmly and tried not to think, because that would lead to talking. Several facts clicked into place. Director Lively wanted his own Avians before Morales found a pair to work for him. It seemed both Lively and Morales knew what Glaynia wanted, which suggested they’d had other teams who encountered Ultar.

Nothing about this interview made me happy.

“Look on the bright side, Wrath,” Lively said. “You still have your job.”

“Thank you, sir.” I practically held my breath.

“Dismissed.”

I saluted and left immediately.

6

I barely remembered passing through section forty-nine or forty-eight. The APOP Justice crew worked as diligently as ever. I saw them moving about, talking, joking, and getting things done, but I didn’t hear them clearly. Sounds were both muted and fluid as though I were walking on the bottom of an ocean. My nerves tingled, and I couldn’t tell if it was apprehension or relief that was causing the unusual effect.

Nothing had changed. I was still looking for a pair of Avians who could negotiate with the Ultar. I didn’t know why this was important other than the general idea that there could be a war on the horizon.

For old soldiers like me, that was always a concern. I’d been conditioned to see the potential for large-scale, organized violence in every political situation. Memories of Trace’s pirates, senate security, APOP task forces, and corporate mercenaries chasing my team through the void to steal Ocantus and her strange artifacts wouldn’t be quieted.

This was far beyond my original mandate. In the matter of criminal cases involving sentients, I had broad powers and nearly unlimited jurisdiction—especially if the investigations involved serious acts of violence, kidnapping, or trafficking.

On impulse, I stopped for coffee and chatted mindlessly for several minutes with other patrons standing in line. The steaming black fluid was free. All human endeavors seemed powered by the stuff. Before long, I was moving at a more leisurely pace with a comforting cup of caffeinated water in one hand.

Coffee made everything better.

More people smiled when I passed. We exchanged pleasantries. Life was good. I decided not to think about the wreck my life had become until I reached the APOP Soft Touch.

“Breaker one-o-five,” said Antoni Kalchev from behind me.

I turned to see him stepping out of a video bar where he’d been doing nearly the same thing I had just indulged in—avoiding responsibility, clearing his head, and maybe altering the course of his destiny in subtle ways.

“Looks like you finished your meeting,” he said.

I nodded and toasted him with my cup. “You?”

“On the way. Somehow, I think you got off easier than I will.” He grew older right before my eyes. “This damn investigation is killing me. Pray that you never face the wrath of the APIA.”

“I’ve stood before them more than once.” My old friend’s plight was my doing. I had initiated the investigation after a petty drug dealer accused him of corruption. One thing led to another, and now his career was in worse shape than mine and he would probably go to prison. Internal Affairs had him in their sights now.

“Really? Now I am mortally curious. What the hell did the golden child of the APOP do to get investigated twice?”

Technically, I was in the middle of my third but decided not to mention it. How exactly was I judging him when my own decisions seemed to be increasingly questionable?

“The first time I investigated a pair of dignitaries with qualified immunity. Technically, there is no such thing for the crime I was investigating, but you know how it goes,” I said. “They didn’t appreciate it, and neither did their embassy lawyers.”

“You just ignored all that stuff, right? Not surprised. I’m sure you made a lot of really powerful people happy. You need to grow up and smell the politics someday, buddy.” He stepped away from the entrance to avoid becoming a traffic problem for other pedestrians. “What was the other scandal?”

“Excessive force,” I said, leaving out all the details and pushing back the hot rage and borderline vigilantism that had come over me after returning damaged victims to their families. They weren’t going to be victimized twice. I’d do it again. For sure.

“Hah. And you were judging me.” He cracked his neck, clearly not worried about anything. The man had always been intense and confident. His biggest problem was that he would never admit he’d done anything wrong no matter how clear it was to everyone else. That was a problem. Maybe I should have stayed closer to him to keep him out of trouble.

I didn’t explain what the suspect had done to his victims. If I did, Kalchev and I would probably pay the man a visit in prison and issue a new sentence. For all his rough edges, Chev was a big softy for kids, puppy dogs, and little old ladies trying to cross busy streets.

Changing the subject was a good idea, so I did. “Any word on Henry Saint?”

His expression darkened. “Give it a rest. He’s a grown man who made his own choices. Consequences are like gravity wells; you can’t escape once you put yourself under their influence. Saint is no saint.”

I resisted the urge to start another fight. Fists clenched, jaw set, I could barely stand still at the thought.

Kalchev matched each move. We were like two lions pacing across from each other, ready to charge and fight for dominance.

“There are other people looking for him.” Kalchev took a ready stance, reminding me more than ever that we were both Breaker pilots at heart. “Not all of them friendly. Henry Saint isn’t a saint. He’s into something.”

“He sure is,” I counted. “About a kilo of G-5 or micro a week.”

“That would kill him.”

I snorted. “Nothing kills Saint. You know that, Chev.”

He shook his head. “Just let it be. Stop bringing up his name. It doesn’t help. He’s a grown-ass man who never accepted help before. Why would it be different now? Trust me, I tried to dry him out more than once.”

For a moment, I was sure Kalchev hadn’t hidden our mutual friend someplace. Acting on impulse, I fired off a half-considered question—not the best interrogation tactic, but whatever. “Are you still retiring to Earthdale?”

“Yeah. Already found a real estate agent. Smart woman. She knows her way around the planet better than Boomer does. And don’t worry, I’ll meet up with that stumpy hooligan.” Kalchev’s anger melted slowly, but it did melt. “I barely asked about you.”

“You didn’t ask at all.”

He spread his hands. “You got me. We’re good now, right?”

I grabbed his forearm, then pulled him in for a hug. “Brothers to the end of the void.”

Kalchev chuckled as we parted. “That’s what Saint always said.” People looked at us. He waited until they were out of earshot. “I’m serious about Saint. Don’t forget how the man is—always into things no one else would touch.”

“Like a dog in a garbage chute,” I said, using our inside label for politics.

“Just remember there are rats in there too.” His expression changed as he looked toward the section fifty bulkhead. “I’m tired. Can’t wait to get to Earthdale. I’ll probably sleep for a month.”

Resentment for my old friend waned. I’d never seen him look this defeated. “Throw yourself on the mercy of the AP. I warmed the director up for you. Nothing to worry about.”

He snorted. “You are trying to get me killed. Thanks for the jinx.”

We shook hands a final time and separated without another word.

* * *

A squad of tactical operators was boarding the APOP Soft Touch when I arrived. Fathers and Woods stood stone-faced at the entrance. Sergeant Nova appeared bewildered as she reviewed their orders.

“Breaker, why is this gaggle of NCS on my doorstep?” she asked as I approached.

Nonmilitary Combat Specialists were exactly what they seemed, men and women ready to fight anywhere, anytime, for any reason. Their tactical uniforms were dark blue instead of black or gray but were otherwise identical to special operations combat fatigues. Their gear was newer, and their morale crisper than any unit in the AP military. Some of them had likely come over from the martial side, though some were young enough to have received all their training from APOP schools and gathered their experience from law enforcement missions.

I feigned ignorance, frowned, and tipped my head side to side a few times to express the activation of serious brainpower. “They must have pissed off their old boss.”

“This order says Director Lively sent them”—Nova showed me her fold screen—”for as long as the needs of the mission.” She looked at me. “We have a mission? I thought we were being fired.”

“He wants us to find a pair of Avians who can negotiate with the Ultar,” I said.

“We were already doing that. Surely there is more to this order.”

I scanned the flight deck. No one was near enough to listen in, and there was enough noise to challenge listening devices. “There is always more. On the surface, these men and women are just what they seem—the muscle I asked for if we find ourselves in a tight spot far from home. Below that rather obvious level, we can assume they have orders to bring us in before we go rogue.”

Nova surveyed the NCS team critically. “None of them look devious enough for that.”

“You know what they say about looks and deception,” I said. “We have bigger problems.”

Across the deck strode Jacob Morales with his bodyguards. They must have been NCS as well, because they immediately greeted the team now assigned to the Soft Touch. Laughter, loud stories, and all the comradely arts peaked right before my eyes.

“Must be nice to be so popular,” Nova said dryly.

“Stay here. Watch both sides. This doesn’t feel right.” I went to Morales.

“Keep me updated,” Nova said.

I shook my mentor’s hand with the words of Director Lively still ringing in my ears—stay away from Jacob Morales. Lately, he was feeling less like my savior and more like a loan collector. I’d never seen the look he gave me now.

“Let’s go inside your ship,” he said. “We don’t have much time.”

I stood aside, inviting him up the ramp with a welcoming gesture. “Behold the Soft Touch in all her grandeur.”

“Nice ship,” he said. “Take me to Ocantus.”

My ship was silent with most of the crew working on repairs and resupply. Every footstep sounded too loud. Regina displayed messages in my HUD to indicate she was ready to assist with anything I needed. Fathers and Woods watched me for as long as they could from their post at the loading ramp. Other members of my squad appeared at intersections and acted like they were working.

Morales remained silent throughout the walk. He kept his eyes forward and barely seemed to care if I was there. The last time I’d seen him like this was right before the Arrival War. Those had been dark times. Responsibility had pressed down on him like the gravity of a star.

I stepped into the bay facing the storage room we’d converted into an Ultar habitat. Dread filled the room despite every effort to contain the effect of the mysterious sentient. Air filters were set to quarantine levels. The view screen was darkened to prevent the infrared light pulses I thought also contributed to the raw fear my passenger inspired. Mirrors had suggested minimizing all sensory transmission, so the floor was covered with a rubber mat to reduce vibration, and the sound system played white noise to protect our hearing from anything Ocantus might broadcast.

Half of our defenses were guesswork.

Morales took in everything. “You saw my NCS team?”

“I did, sir.”

He nodded. “I have a second group on the other side of your ship. Your agents and your ship AI should be alerting you now.”

“He’s not lying, boss,” Regina said. “A full platoon of NCS operators in full battle regalia have staged near my secondary cargo ramp. They also have a team of scientists.”

I didn’t like where this was going. “Director Lively told me to keep a close eye on Ocantus and the artifacts.”

“I’m going to do that for you,” Morales replied. “For the record, I didn’t give you a choice.”

“That won’t fly,” I said. “Your NCS might be able to storm the Soft Touch and seize the Ultar, but it would be bloody. If I use that excuse with Director Lively and the review committee, there better be blood and body parts everywhere.”

He stared at the blank screen, then spoke without looking at me. “I’m sorry, Breaker. This is happening. Could it go wrong? Absolutely. I hadn’t planned to do this on the Justice. You have no idea what is at stake.”

I waited.

“This time is different. It might really be the end of your career, and maybe even your freedom. I have people that might be able to pull your squad under their wings, but you will have to eat this one.”

Blood tingled through my veins. The room suddenly seemed small. My friend and mentor was suddenly a stranger. Nothing made sense. It was like getting a concussion in the middle of a transit calculation.

I stood like a statue as his team flowed into the room. NCS hardcases set up security like mindless war machines. Scientists measured everything, recorded the countermeasures my team had put in place, then looked at Morales expectantly.

He met my gaze and said nothing.

“Regina, give them access,” I said. “Custody of Ocantus is being transferred.”

“Okay, boss. If you say so.” Regina then asked via HUD message if I was being coerced. I blinked on the “no” option.

Ocantus materialized on the screen and stared at me. For the first time since we’d met, the innate fear of her was bearable.

“Until next time, Breaker Wrath,” she said.

The scientists nearest her modified home staggered and held their heads. Morales’s expression was tight. He’d felt something just like the rest of us.

“I am sorry, Ocantus.”

The Ultar didn’t respond.

Morales and his team removed the Ultar from the Soft Touch and took her somewhere else. Suddenly, I needed to know where. I ran after them.

“Morales!” I shouted.

Anger dominated his expression as he turned to face me. I wasn’t sure if it was the way I’d said his name or that I’d risked calling attention to the procession disappearing toward another flight deck of the APOP Justice where his shuttles must be waiting. He couldn’t move his little army with just one.

Fathers and Woods came around the corner of the Soft Touch. My new NCS team and the other half of Morales’s NCS contingent followed curiously.

“Say it,” Morales said.

His tone surprised me. For a second, I thought he was embarrassed for betraying my trust, but that was pure intuition. The only thing I knew was that we were both in the middle of a difficult situation making hard decisions we would probably regret later. For the first time, in this regard at least, we were equals.

I wasn’t sure I liked the feeling.

“Keep me in the loop. Call me when you need me,” I said. My mouth was on autopilot. What else could I say?

He nodded and seemed relieved. “This too shall pass, Breaker.”

I watched him go and prayed I hadn’t betrayed Ocantus. Despite the trauma her mere presence had caused everyone on my ship, I felt responsible for her welfare. The grim realization that I’d just violated a clear order from the APOP director didn’t spawn a lot of warm feelings in my gut.

7

Woods watched NCS supervisors confer and then break their unit into groups. Sergeant Falkner, Corporal Jinks, Corporal Inio, and Agent Tanner each lead three agents or specialists.

I stood beside her. “What do you think?”

“They’re okay. Falkner and his team leaders warmed up with half an hour of target punching. I see solid fundamentals and good range safety.” She never took her eyes from the men and women donning safety gear and reloading weapons. Everything was virtual but realistic. There were planetary ranges, as well as space stations and larger warship facilities that used live rails, so good habits needed to be maintained. “Everything has been by the book so far.”

“Have you talked with them?” I asked.

She gave me a derisive look. “No. We’re not keeping them.”

I laughed. “You’re right. What a bunch of strays. If we feed them, they’ll never leave us alone.”

“Sergeant Nova was looking for you,” Woods said. “She stopped by for her morning range practice. Just between you and me, I think she was more annoyed to find them here than I was.”

“You don’t mind sacrificing your personal daily practice?” I asked.

“Please, boss. I’m here all day most days. Virtual ammunition is free and even a short, inter-system transit bores the life out of me. Never can sleep like you’re supposed to,” she said. “You might suggest the rest of our team up their game. Wouldn’t want to look like amateurs around this group.”

“I thought you weren’t impressed,” I replied.

“I’m not, but they aren’t chumps, and we’ve been slacking off a bit.”

“Okay. You’ve just been promoted to training coordinator. Set up a schedule and whip the team into shape.” I pointed at her to emphasize my point. “That’s what happens when you show too much initiative. Your boss gives you more work.”

“Noted,” she said.

I walked the decks, thinking of my meeting with Director Lively and how easily I’d rolled over for Morales. Everyone on this ship owed the man, or that’s what I told myself. How many times could I ask him to bail us out and give nothing back. It wasn’t right to balk when he finally asked for something.

Ocantus loomed in my imagination, terrifying and mysterious. I bounced a slim data screen in one hand as I walked. The device contained everything we’d learned about the Ultar and the discs she wore on her wrists. Nothing about the sentient or the artifacts she carried justified the attention of so many powerful people.

Working the problem in my head led back to Glaynia, the more powerful of the three Ultar I’d encountered during the Trace Block investigation. She had demanded I locate a pair of Avian negotiators. Our encounter had been strange and dangerous, just like everything about this web of intrigue.

“Regina, where is Sergeant Nova?” I asked.

“She’s in the general workshop, boss,” Regina said. “Should I call her?”

“No. I’ll surprise her.” I turned at the next intersection and considered how much smaller everything was here than on the APOP Justice. The carrier had room for a dozen corvettes like the Soft Touch without cramping the style of her three fighter squadrons. Life on a small vessel wasn’t bad, but I had to admit I preferred the larger warships. Hallways were wider, ceilings were higher, and there were more diversions.

I found the Soft Touch workshop, knocked, and entered.

Nova looked up from a bench that she had covered with ship parts. “This isn’t the head. You don’t have to knock.”

“Better safe than sorry,” I said. “You’ll appreciate caution more the longer you’re part of this squad.”

She smiled. “That’s fair. We need to talk about Avian Prime.”

I sat on a stool. “Earthdale has a significant Avian population. I know we’ve already tried this and been told the only place we’ll find what we need is on their home world, but this is worth the effort. And it’s on the way.”

“You don’t have to convince me,” she said as she tidied up her work and set it aside.

We faced each other across the bench. The room had a low ceiling and bright work lights. Shadows were severe until she dimmed the LEDs that had been illuminating her project. Next door was a storage bay full of Breaker rigs, void fighter parts, and weapons our new guests would never believe were on board. I wanted to keep it that way. If everything went as planned, I would never activate the NCS operators.

“I appreciate your confidence in my decisions,” I said. “Now speak your mind.”

“You know I will,” she said, then got down to business. “We can’t just go straight to Avian Prime anyway.”

“You’re right.” I rummaged through my knowledge of rules and regulations. “I can get past AP restrictions with a word to Morales, or even Director Lively now that he has sent me there on official business.”

“But Avians have their own rules, and rightful sovereignty over their planet,” Nova said, finishing my thought. “We need a sponsor with motivation to send us there. I can’t imagine a scenario where any high-ranking Avian would do that, though I’ve been wracking my brain since we left the Justice.”

“We’ll think of something. Maybe a trader will need security or a humanitarian mission will ask for AP assistance.”

Nova didn't seem convinced.

“We have time to figure something out. Just make sure one of us is open to whatever opportunity presents itself.”

“You’re more optimistic than I ever was,” she said. “Maybe that’s why you passed the lieutenant’s examination and I didn’t.”

“You scored in the ninety-eighth percentile on the test.”

“Yet I can’t get promoted. More than one of my supervisors told me I lacked people skills and was too rigid.” She made a frustrated expression. “I never understood how following rules and regulations could be a bad thing.”

“Well, I’m going to break you of that habit.”

She laughed. “True.”

“Finish up here, and let’s loiter on the bridge for the first system transit of this journey,” I suggested.

“Cates and Kyn already think I’m constantly looking over their shoulder. It’s hard to watch other people fly the ship. You should put me in for an award for my self-restraint.”

“Done. It will go straight into your next performance evaluation. Now come on. Show me what to do and I’ll help you clean up,” I said. “Later I might need some assistance inspecting the Breaker rigs.”

“When are you going to let Fathers and Omar try them?”

“Maybe never. Breaker rigs need combat technicians, especially when the pilots are inexperienced. As soon as I find four CTs, we can decide who drives the rigs.”

“You can’t find four combat techs. They’re all retired, just like the Breaker pilots they worked for.” She was interested, her gaze intense, curious, and open to possibilities despite the truth of her conclusion.

“With. Breakers and CTs have to be a team—one doesn’t survive without the other. If I could find one really good tech, that might be enough to start training. We’ll see. I think you will have your little ship put together before that happens.”

We strode to the deck and slipped in while Cates, Kyn, and Yolo triple-checked transit coordinates and power settings. Numbers ran across every screen in the room. Large and small, every computer was doing work, even for a short voyage like this. No two trips were the same, even though we had recently visited Earthdale.

The complex relationship between acceleration, gravitational variables, and modern technology was never easy to control. Astro-navigational science, the way most people thought of it, was synonymous with transit technology, though more than a few experts had explained this was a misnomer. They used big words I hadn’t mastered while playing hooky from school. I could use the star drives and course-plotting software. So far, I hadn’t gotten anyone killed or lost a ship. A good pilot-ship AI team was the key. In theory, it looked like lifting your finger off a map and putting it down where you wanted to go. Unfortunately, space travel wasn’t linear or particularly constant.

In practice, no part of a transit was simple. Despite every explanation promising nearly instantaneous results, travel always took longer than it should. Someday a group of very smart sentients would get together and revolutionize our ability to travel the stars. Humanity had only dreamt about the possibilities a few thousand years ago. Now travel between galaxies was real, if time-consuming.

Maybe it was good to reach our limits. We’d come a long way. Was the galaxy ready for sentients with better FTL ability than we currently had? Probably not. What could possibly go wrong?

Everything.

Cates leaned back and adjusted his wide hat. “That’s as good as we’re going to get. With your permission, boss, we’ll begin.”

I gave him the nod, then settled deeper into the command chair. By the time I crossed my hands over my belt and leaned my head back, Nova was glaring at me incredulously.

“You’re going to sleep?” she asked. “Seriously?”

“I am unless we will somehow arrive instantly,” I said.

Yolo stood up and clapped her hands together loudly. “Looks like our shift is done. If you two think you can handle it, the rest of us will get some real sleep.”

“So much respect,” I said dryly. “Get out of here. Me and the sergeant can handle it.”

“Yes, sir,” Cates said, tipping his hat. “Take care of Regina. She's the best ship AI we'll ever have.”

Kyn followed them out with less banter.

“You handle the crew well,” Nova said. “Though it took getting used to when I first arrived.”

“We've been through a lot.” Further explanation wasn't needed.

“Now might be a good time to plan our next move,” she said.

“With luck, we’ll find a pair of Avians that fit the bill and save a lot of time and misery by not going to Avian Prime. Can’t hurt to try,” I said, eyes still closed. “Failing in that objective, we’ll convince someone important to write a travel pass to their home world.”

“It won’t be that easy,” Nova said.

“Nothing ever is.” I slept in my chair and dreamt of Glossers diving through glide car windows, my team fighting for their lives on Perseus Station, and Henry Saint staring up at me from the bottom of a pit. His eyes gleamed like stars. Only after my heart pounded out of my chest did I realize he was in the center of a circle of Ultar warriors. Their darkness leached his soul and his sanity out of his body.

A normal nightmare woke a person up. My spirit was restless and decided to wander other places instead of returning to the land of the living. I fought battles to defend starships, then I boarded enemy vessels, stations, and asteroids to liberate their owners of possession. Graffiti-covered streets passed on both sides of my squad car as I glided through rough neighborhoods, hoping to make a difference.

When I finally awoke, Nova was working at a terminal near me. Everyone else had retired. “Are you gonna survive, Breaker?”

“Were you watching over me?”

“Someone had to handle the night shift. You were right about this transit. It’s taking longer than normal. Someone should build a better transit drive.”

I levered myself into a sitting position and adjusted my command chair. Nova forwarded updates to my screen.

Tired from my unconscious ordeal, I groped at the numbers but eventually confirmed we hadn’t completed the final phase of the trip. My head ached. I swore, not for the first time, never to sleep in the chair again. “I wish there was something to look at other than total blackness.”

“Would you like a computer-generated image instead of total sensory deprivation?” Regina asked.

Nova shook her head.

“No thanks, Regina. Let’s save every scrap of processing power for the trip.”

“It seems like a long time since we visited Earthdale,” Nova said.

I agreed. “We’ll contact Boomer first thing and see if he can expedite things.”

We continued toward the planet in silence. Nova was a good companion in that regard. She could initiate and maintain a complex conversation, or she could sit quietly with her own thoughts.

I was getting better at the latter activity. At least one of my Breaker friends would be there, probably two if Kalchev didn’t go straight to prison after his meeting with the director.

Would he show his face if he was hiding on Earthdale? What would the four of us do if we teamed up?

The fantasy was pointless. The past was best forgotten. Saint stood at the gate to hell and could easily drag us down when he fell. A wise man would steer clear of friends like that.

I had a job to do. My dreams did nothing to clarify what kind of negotiations were needed with the Ultar. I assumed a mistake would lead to war, and why wouldn’t it? Everything seemed to lead in that direction eventually.

8

The transit left me unusually tired. I wanted to visit the surface of Earthdale and meet Boomer less and less as the morning wore on. More to the point, if I had to go, I was in the mood for a solo trip—just a quick meeting. Of course, that wasn't in the cards.

Nova had shadowed me the last time we were here. Now she was a proven asset to the team who could, and did, take over for me whenever needed. I could tell she wanted to start the next chapter of our odyssey together, but duty demanded otherwise.

“Sergeant Nova sent me,” Sergeant Faulkner explained as he boarded the shuttle and strapped in. “Said something about keeping you out of trouble.”

“Did she explain how much work that will be?” I asked, already resenting this get to know you mission with the NCS supervisor.

“She mentioned it.” Humor didn’t stick to the cop-soldier. He smoothed his short hair unnecessarily, then did the same to the front of his uniform-like street clothing. This action revealed things about his character that I filed for later consideration. Maybe he just liked the feel of his buzz cut.

I ran through flight checks as we talked. “This is a plain clothing assignment. What you’re wearing is fine, but you look like a cop attending an in-service training conference. I don’t expect you to conduct investigations but may ask you to handle basic tasks like field interviews or background checks.”

“Can do, sir. Just point me in the right direction,” he said, unfazed by my aggressive flying style. The shuttle left the Soft Touch and plummeted toward the spaceport I had chosen on the surface. Normally we landed the ship, but I’d chosen to leave her in orbit for now. “Everyone on my team has street experience. Some were assigned to local taskforces before now. You will find my NCS squad flexible and hardworking.”

“Good,” I said. “This won’t be like anything you’ve done in law enforcement.”

Faulkner didn’t respond. His attention lingered on a window screen. He watched the city grow larger as we made our final approach, then swept his eyes over buildings, glide ways, and neighborhoods.

“We’re headed for a meeting with an old friend of mine,” I said.

“Vince Boomer?” he asked. “I’m not a trained investigator, but I listen and pay attention.”

“Good qualities to have.” I was disconcerted by his knowledge of my personal life, but not surprised. Recent events had subjected my past to the rumor mill. Of course this man had done his homework after being assigned to my unit.

Conversation refused to blossom during our short descent. Lieutenant Boomer met us at the spaceport, a big smile on his homely face.

“Breaker! I knew you'd be back.” He clasped my hand, shook it, and eyed Faulkner. “Who's your new sergeant? What happened to the other one?”

“This is Sergeant Faulkner, my NCS supervisor,” I said.

“Nonmilitary combat specialists. You must really be into something nasty. I was starting to think that division was just an APOP rumor,” Boomer said.

“Let's walk. I’ll fill you in on the way to whatever transportation you secured.”

Boomer pressed one hand to his chest as though deeply wounded. “Please, I'm a lieutenant. I have an assigned vehicle.”

“I'm looking for a pair of Avians,” I began, noting that Faulkner was a stride behind us and off to one side but still more than capable of hearing every word. “My orders come from the top. Time is of the essence.”

I wasn't sure that the second statement was true, but it felt like a safe parameter to follow. A sense of urgency never hurt when dealing with a local agency.

“We have a robust Avian quarter,” Boomer said. “We can drive through it on the way to headquarters if you want.”

I looked at the vehicle he had led us to and laughed. “You must be an extremely important lieutenant to rate this conveyance.”

“Don't judge,” he said. “You APOP types probably never think about the value of a take-home car. This is a big deal.”

“It’s very nice.” I slid my hand over a rusted quarter panel, then examined my fingertips with mock solemnity. “But I worry about your safety. Friends don't let friends drive junk.”

“Very clever.” Boomer's expression suggested he was being sarcastic. “Get in. There is no walking on the glide way between the spaceport and the rest of the city. Don’t make me give you a ticket.”

I took the front seat. Faulkner slid into the back, stretched out, and looked through the back window as part of his acclimation to the new environment. Cops were all the same. We looked over our shoulders often, searched for counter surveillance or potential ambushes, and worried about the backdrop in the event a shootout erupted—though rail fights almost never did. The bulk of law enforcement officers never fired a rail in anger. My team skewed the statistics with the number of times we engaged dangerous felons wanting to murder us.

Boomer flashed his badge at the guard post. We barely paused.

“Smuggling onto the planet isn’t a big problem, and this vehicle couldn’t hold enough contraband to matter,” Boomer said. “And I know both guards in that booth. They’re retired ECPD—were old timers when I started.”

“Not from the Third Transit Fleet, then?” I asked.

“No. Earthdale has been a stable, law-abiding city for more than a century.” Boomer steered for the Avian quarter.

“Have you heard from Kalchev or Saint?”

Boomer drove in silence for a few moments. In the back seat, Faulkner perked up. The tactical team supervisor was far from excited, but at least he was tuned into the conversation—right when I wanted privacy. This would have been easier with Nova or any other member of my team in the back seat.

“I didn’t know Chev was having so much trouble with Saint,” Boomer began. “Something seemed off. By the time I got the real story, you had come and gone from Perseus Station. I’m still pissed. Chev should have reached out months ago.”

I didn’t argue.

“Saint’s problems started well before that, if I’m being honest. He was always the wild one.”

I popped my neck. “True. The Arrival War and the Avian Prime incident bothered him more than it did the rest of us.”

Boomer shook his head. “Not just that. He went off the grid for a while—claimed he was finding himself and ready to grow up. He applied for the Earthdale and Perseus Station police departments. It never panned out.”

I held back what Kalchev had told me about Saint working with him to infiltrate Benedict and Trace’s criminal organizations. It felt wrong, but I couldn’t tip my hand. Boomer might already be part of Kalchev’s worsening situation. I doubted this was the case, but why ruin an investigation with lazy, emotion-guided decisions.

“Sounds pretty normal,” I said instead.

“He was obsessed with the Ultar. This one time Minister Bayle came on the viewer. Five seconds into his rant, Saint jumped up and started acting nuts. Stormed out of the restaurant even though our food hadn’t come. Now that I think about it, that was the last time I saw Henry Saint. He went straight to Perseus Station. That seemed bizarre after how scared of the Ultar he was.”

“He was scared?” Faulkner asked.

Boomer and I glanced over our shoulders.

Faulkner held up both palms. “Relax. I just never heard of Breakers showing fear. Thought that was surgically removed during training.”

Boomer and I drew out the moment until he finally had to face forward to check the progress of the glide car. I turned with him in the spirit of maintaining a united front.

“He really dove into some of his more destructive behaviors,” Boomer continued. “His experimentation phase turned into a challenge event—like he was going to show the galaxy he could use whatever mind-altering crap he wanted and quit whenever he wanted.”

“Sounds like Henry,” I said.

“Kalchev and I kicked his ass a few times, but it didn’t stick. When I stopped hearing from either of them, I figured something had stabilized for better or worse.”

“You didn’t follow up? Chev is already on my naughty list for not asking you and me for help, but you knew some of it and just let the matter drop.”

“Chev said he would let me know if Saint needed to be relocated to Earthdale, then told me to just wait for him to make a move, or send updates,” Boomer said. “Now I realize he was protecting me. Seems like things got really out of hand on Perseus Station.”

“He acted like he was coming here, the last time we talked.” I no longer cared if Faulkner was eavesdropping. The truth was that he was part of my squad now, like it or not, and might as well understand why his life was about to get way more complicated.

“Chev bought some property here. His last message said he is retiring in my city. He promised to keep my life interesting by causing a lot of trouble, but that he would also grill steaks and provide beer anytime I asked.”

“I don’t even care what he does at this point.” I gestured toward a glide way exit sign. “Isn’t this our turn?”

Boomer grinned broadly. “You remember geography like a champ.”

“I can see the Avian buildings from here,” Faulkner said from the back seat.

“Were you on Avian Prime?” Boomer asked. “You seem young for that disaster.”

“My brother is an architect. Big fan of the birdie buildings.” Faulkner studied the skyscrapers as he answered.

Boomer took the exit and drew closer to the artistic skyline. He gave me a serious look while our tagalong was distracted.

“I really don’t care,” I said, not sure if I believed it and doubting Boomer did. “You know what I mean. I do, but I don’t. Helping people who refuse to help themselves is exhausting. When push comes to shove, I’ll be there, but both of those Breakers need to start acting right. Get in the game. Focus on the win.”

Boomer offered a fist bump. I accepted.

9

The glide car rolled into the Avian quarter. There were all types of sentients here, but most were the distinctly bird-like creatures. Bright colored layers were in style just as they had been when I first encountered the race. They were conservative, private, and judgmental of their own kind though they expected other sentients to misbehave.

Boomer stopped at a light. I glanced into the car next to us, remembering another incident where Kyn and I had witnessed a drug dealer selling to two Glossers. The mild-mannered agent had climbed out his car window and scrambled through theirs while I took down the dealer. One of the addicts had been a woman Kyn said was pregnant. He never explained how he knew. I just believed him.

“Where do you want to start?” Boomer asked. “Information would be helpful. You said you wanted a pair? Will any pair do?”

“No, they have to be special,” I said.

“That’s great.” Boomer proceeded through the intersection when the light changed.

I rolled down my window and listened to light voices speaking their musical language. The streets and buildings were clean. Pedestrians moved in well-ordered groups, yet it didn’t seem like they were restrained by law or custom. It just happened like a ballet of nature.

“Look at them. Moving like they have somewhere to be,” I said, going back to the same part of our past that Boomer was undoubtedly visiting in his head—Avian Prime and the days before it all went wrong.

One observer had compared groups of Avians to flocks of birds even though they were on the ground. The description wasn’t wrong.

“Why can’t they fly?” Faulkner asked. “Most of them have wings.”

He was right, though there was a lot of variability. Some had wings so large they stuck up above their heads and dragged on the ground. Others possessed wings that looked like afterthoughts on a costume. Most were in the middle and concealed their plumage with the flowing, many layered clothing that was always in style with Avians.

They didn’t really have beaks, but their faces presented a convincing illusion they did. I had a theory. “I’m not sure they evolved from birds.”

“How else could they be like this?” Faulkner asked.

Boomer answered with his own speculation that fit neatly with mine. “Could be they are evolving into birds.”

“Like from lizards or something?” Faulkner asked.

“Or something.” I pointed to an interesting group near a fountain. One man was speaking to a large group as the water made its music behind him. “Let’s park and walk up. There are non-Avians in the crowd. We should be accepted.”

“Of course we will be.” Faulkner acted like this was the most obvious thing in the galaxy. “Earthdale is a human world. This is a human city. What would they do, attack us?”

“No, but they might not be talkative if we stomp all over their customs and traditions,” I said.

“You lead.” Boomer hooked his thumbs through his belt. “Sergeant Faulkner and I will loiter in the crowd to watch and listen.”

I nodded and veered off on my own, careful to keep them in view as much as possible. As long as I kept memories of the misunderstanding at bay, spending time near the bird-like humanoids was relaxing. They were friendly and helpful, and they enjoyed music and art.

My impression of their culture showed a flaw when I noticed a large, angry Avian near the edge of the gathering. He reminded me of a hawk. His wings ruffled slightly, then flared several inches. My gut instinct was that this man could fly. That made me wonder if they all had that ability and just kept it from us for their own reasons.

I really should have stayed on the ship. My head hurt from considering all the ways this could go wrong. Was I glad to see amazing new things? Absolutely. But I was also human with all the weaknesses that entailed.

The speaker didn’t appear bothered by me or the hawkish observer watching the gathering. I focused on him and moved closer.

“Thank you for your polite attention,” he said to the crowd. “Stay or go, but I think a visitor has arrived worth speaking with.”

I checked around me and realized I was now the center of attention.

“Welcome, friend. We are well met,” he said. “I am Haylor, Mayor of the Avian Quarter. We were talking about music and food, two of my favorite things.”

I hadn’t realized there was a mayor of each quarter but kept my ignorance private. “Sounds like a wonderful conversation.”

He smiled, then sang a melody that drew in the crowd. Elsewhere in the square, people came and went from the fountain. Some joined the song. Others did not. I sensed no pressure either way.

“This isn’t as awkward as I thought it would be,” I said, only then realizing I hadn’t set up comms protocol for this mission. If something came up, I would need to beep Faulkner and hope he had his gear activated. I’d become too dependent on Sergeant Nova for operational details.

The oversight wouldn’t be much of a problem. Knowing tactical operators like I did, I suspected the man probably slept with the bud in his ear and orders in place to each of his team leaders to do the same.

Haylor invited me to join. I demurred. He shrugged and finished singing what seemed to be a parable.

“Was that an old song?”

“No, friend. It was this morning’s news. I find more people listen when I make it entertaining. The words, in this instance, tell of traffic congestion on the 117 and road construction in westbound lanes.”

I laughed. “We could learn a lot from Avians.”

“Agreed. But let’s not dwell on should or should not. That way leads to misunderstandings.”

We locked eyes for a moment. To my surprise, the connection felt natural. I strongly suspected he had been on his home world during the outbreak of war, short as it had been. He might even know who I was or what I was at least. There was a strong sensation of being held accountable but not blamed.

I stumbled between the subtle difference in the two terms and withdrew from the speculation. “I am Lieutenant Benjamin Wrath, APOP, Sentient Crimes Division. As lovely as my visit has been so far, I am here on a case.”

“How may I assist you?” He flourished one hand, and the crowd gave us privacy.

I hesitated long enough to think through the best way to ask my question. There were no case details I could share, but I didn’t see a way, or a reason, to explain my exact purpose. Still, there needed to be a bridge to what I was about to request.

“What do you know of the Ultar?”

“They are dangerous and far away.” His tone was cooler though not hostile or defensive. A normal conversationalist might not have noticed. I was looking for clues. Every nuance received attention.

“They have no embassy on Earthdale,” I said.

“True. The Ultar have very few embassies. Those that exist were not created by them. Alliance of Planets functionaries set them up as they do for all sentient races. They never ask if anyone wants these institutions.”

I thought about it. “You’re not wrong.” I chuckled. “Maybe I will send up a memo pointing that out.”

He laughed. “I like you, Lieutenant.”

“My friends call me Breaker.”

“Ahhh. So you are the man I thought you were.”

Every investigation, every interview, and every fight had a tipping point. I'd been here before, in the general sense, and was keenly aware of what was at stake. This very distinct moment, as I often thought of it, could be seen as an obstacle or an opportunity. From deep in my subconscious, an idea swam weakly toward the surface.

I thought I knew what intuition was trying to tell me. Transit navigation also had such a point, and it was perhaps more important than the beginning or the end of the journey. Was there a place in every journey where things could go wrong—or right?

I made a note for later consideration and hoped I would remember the revelation. Right now, I had more immediate concerns.

“I would give anything to go back and start over.” I meant every word and worried he would doubt my sincerity. “Maybe there is a way forward. Only time will tell.”

“Wise sentiments, Breaker. I've long hoped someone would come to see them truthfully.” He ruffled his wings, which stunned me. I had never seen anything so beautiful. Every avian in the vicinity bowed and backed away, then went on to other activities, granting us complete privacy. “Be specific. I will hold this conversation in confidence.”

I steadied my breathing and went for it. “I had been investigating the abduction and murders of aliens. Some of my leads took me across the explored regions of Andromeda, all the way to Perseus station.”

“That habitation is at the very edge of Ultar space,” he said. “I see now where your questions may be going.”

“I encountered many things, learned much, and met individuals who guided my path. Something is happening that could make the misunderstanding on Avian Prime look like a minor catastrophe.”

He bristled at that but didn't interrupt.

“I learned that I need a pair of Avians who can talk to the Ultar,” I said. “Can you help me? Who am I looking for, and where can I find them?”

He considered the question for a long time. The moment stretched until it became uncomfortable, but I knew from experience not to break the silence. That was a rookie mistake.

“There are few who can endure the presence of an Ultar for long,” he said. “Fewer still can maintain a meaningful conversation. None but those cursed with kaunis can go beyond that.”

“I don’t understand that word,” I confessed.

“You might call it dark empathy.” He shifted his body for the first time. It seemed a remedy for general discomfort but could also relate to the confidential nature of our discussion.

“Do you know anyone able to do this?” I asked.

“Sadly, not everyone appreciates those with an innate sensitivity to darkness.” He stared into my eyes, almost like he could see my nightmares. “Be warned, Breaker Wrath, this is no remedy for your own struggles. Guilt comes from you, not the cosmos.”

“Thanks for the warning. I’ll deal with my own demons or ignore them. Right now, I’m only interested in finding the right people to stop a galactic war,” I said.

“Is that what you’re doing?”

There was no good answer, so I didn’t offer one. His question felt like a trick, despite his forthrightness thus far. “Can you help me?”

“Perhaps.” He stood from the edge of the fountain. “Shall we walk?”

“Sure.” I glanced across the plaza and saw that both Boomer and Faulkner were actively tailing me and my new friend. So far, so good. They were paying attention.

“You will need to travel to Avian Prime,” Haylor said. “If you did your research, then you will know my people won’t allow you access to the planet no matter what type of authorization your superiors grant you. Violate the will of my elders at your peril.”

“How do I get permission?” I asked.

“No one travels to our home without a reason. What purpose do you have for a visit?”

“I want to stop a galactic war, or something equally as dangerous.”

He frowned, studied banners flowing in a light breeze, and continued. “Too vague. Permission will not be granted to a non-Avian for something like that. I may have an option.”

“I’m all ears.”

“I love the way humans speak.” He gathered his thoughts. “A community member in good standing approached me with a problem. His niece is nearly past the age to marry, and has but one proposal. The suitor lives on Avian Prime. He lacks the means to travel to Earthdale. If you were to escort her to his estate, the local officials could not obstruct your journey.”

“I'm not in the matchmaking business.” I weighed the pros and cons. No better option had presented itself thus far and my imagination wasn't coming up with much that was useful. “The more detail you can provide about the situation, the better results you can expect. Why doesn't she have other prospects? If this suitor has an estate, why can't he pay for her transport?”

“You ask good questions,” he said. “Are we speaking in confidence?”

“Of course.”

“She has a difficult and adventurous personality. Her mother is at her wits end and I have heard her father works overtime to avoid the drama in the household. Out of sight out of mind, they say.” He glanced around at the crowd but continued walking. “I never fathered children. These stories are a mystery to me.”

“I see a smile. Don't kid me, Haylor, you know more than you are telling me.” I liked the mayor. With time and more conversation, I suspected we would be good friends. My squad would enjoy his cheerful demeanor.

“Privately, I believe that she is, how would you say it, out of most of her suitors’ leagues. The prestige and financial veracity of her family is nothing out of the ordinary, but she is simply larger-than-life.” He stopped. “Perhaps you should meet her before you make your decision.”

I shook my head and matched his stance by putting my hands on my hips. “Unless there's another way, I'll say yes to your proposal. Time is of the essence.”

“As it always is.” He relaxed and nodded approvingly. For the first time, his mannerisms were unclear. There was little to do but wait for him to continue. “Her name roughly translates to Little Strongwing. Call her what you will, but she may insist you call her Cissi.”

My thoughts went back to the warship I'd been assigned to right before finally arriving in the Andromeda galaxy. This girl's name reminded me of the ship AI of the Longreach—Sissi. Some memories were both good and bad. I focused on the present with some effort.

“Are you well, Breaker?” Haylor asked.

“I'm fine. You're a lifesaver.”

He smiled. “This is good to hear. I will arrange for Cissi’s transportation. When next we meet, it will be at your spaceport.”

I held up one hand. “Hold on. No offense, but I need to do some due diligence. As much as I trust you, I need to know she's not being kidnapped for some sort of quasi-legal marital custom.”

“Does this happen among humans?” He asked.

“Unfortunately, yes. Other sentients do it as well. Any time a juvenile leaves their parents’ custody, I have to follow our procedures.”

“She is seventeen years old, legally an adult for three years in our society,” Haylor said. “We use Avian Prime standard years, which makes her almost twenty-three by your reckoning.”

“I want to talk to her parents.” I wished Nova was here. This was strange territory, and I trusted her judgment and legal expertise.

He shrugged, which had a unique look with his wings and multilayered robes. “You must ask her if that is what she wishes, but it should not be a problem. When I said I would arrange for transport, I mostly meant that I would pay her driver. She will make her own way to the spaceport and introduce herself. Her parents may or may not be with her.”

I liked the arrangement less and less but decided I still had time to make sure everything was legal and ethical. Would I use a sentient child to gain access to secrets that could stop a galactic war and save millions of lives? At first glance, it seemed like an easy decision, but I knew it wouldn't be. My job was to protect everyone involved, especially this young bride-to-be, and avoid any compromises.

I just really wanted things to be easier.

“Thanks for the help. Do you shake hands?”

He reached forward. We pressed our palms together and shook on the deal.

“I'd like to come back and visit when all of this is over, Haylor.”

He bowed his head slightly. At the same time, his wings flared and held the position for a full second before slowly collapsing. “We are well met, and well parted. I look forward to many conversations about food and music and all manner of things.”

I returned the gesture as best I could, then rejoined Boomer and Faulkner. “Did you get any of that?”

Boomer grinned. “I caught most of it, but I don't think your technical guy did. He was following in position to defend you from a violent attack, nowhere near close enough to eavesdrop. I guess that's not wrong.”

Faulkner gave him a dirty look but offered no defense.

“You're giving a young Avian woman a ride to her home world so she can get married,” Boomer said. “I'm not sure if I should laugh or cry.”

I chuckled. “I'm pretty sure I'll be the one crying. Please tell me if there's another way, then I'll transfer this responsibility to the Earthdale City Police Department.”

My old friend spread his hands defensively. “Definitely not in my job description.”

“What, you don't investigate child abuse or sentient welfare? She's seventeen.”

“Wrong. She's twenty-three. Get your planetary orbits straight.” He held back another critical piece of information for as long as he could, then shared the rest. “I thought you knew more about their culture. A marriage proposal isn't a marriage. If everything goes perfectly, and they're compatible, they won't hold the ceremony for another ten years and that's only if they both prove they can support a family.”

“I feel like you suspected this would happen,” I said. “Normally I hustle you, not the other way around.”

“No way. I don't play slider pool anymore, mostly because of your sandbagging trickery.” He faced Faulkner. “Don't let this guy convince you he doesn't run the table whenever he plays. “

“I'm not really a slider pool player,” Faulkner said.

Boomer didn't appear amused. “Of course you're not. Maybe you should have a push-up contest.”

Faulkner crossed his arms and lifted his chin slightly. “I win.”

I brushed off the conversation like it had never happened. “Take us back to the spaceport. I owe you one, Boomer.”

“Hey, I'm not counting.”

My old friend shoved me. We exchanged a flurry of light punches and attempted takedowns. At the car, we climbed in and told stories and inside jokes Faulkner couldn't possibly understand even if he had been doing his homework on our Breaker unit.

10

Cissi arrived with neither parent nor escort. She appeared to be a young Avian woman—tall, thin, and graceful. She wore layers of silk as did most of her people, but the colors were muted as though she were attempting to blend with other sentient races. Her long, black hair glowed like liquid mystery, and she stood with confidence near our boarding ramp.

I stepped into the threshold.

Fathers, who had been on guard duty, spoke. “You said she'd be here hours ago. What took her so long?”

“I am more worried about her lack of an escort. Did you see who dropped her off?”

He shook his head. “How could I? All I can see is the flight line, not the security checkpoints.”

I concealed my frustration. Haylor had promised to arrange for her transportation, and I had assumed that meant some sort of escort. He was the mayor of Earthdale’s Avian quarter, after all. His statement about only paying for the ride had been literal, apparently.

“What now?” Fathers asked.

“I'll talk to her. Send Nova to help me, if you don't mind.” I strode down the ramp, fully aware that the young Avian woman was watching my every move. She adjusted the strap of a bundle she carried, but other than that did not fidget or look away.

I presented my hand. “Good evening, I'm Lieutenant Benjamin Wrath. Did Haylor send you?”

Her grip was delicate but not weak. “He did. I thought you would be more imposing.”

“Really? That’s interesting.”

She smiled. Her eyes lit up. “My godfather is a supreme story singer. He missed his calling when he went into politics. Did he tell you I am un-marriageable and problematic to my parents and siblings?”

“He said Avian men were boring.”

“Did he? That is strange. Were those his exact words?”

I was stalling to make up my mind about her and the plan I’d hatched with Haylor. I’d been played but couldn’t quite determine how. “No. He said you were difficult and adventurous. Don’t tell him I shared that.”

“Honesty suits you,” she said.

“You look young.”

“Is that a problem?”

“Only if you’re too young to legally travel off-planet.” I glanced up the ramp, looking for Nova to save me. Neither Fathers nor my sergeant were there. Fantastic.

Cissi handed me a data viewer. Like most Avian versions of the technology, it resembled actual paper. I felt the texture and weight, then scanned it with my wrist viewer to test for authenticity. Codes came back verifying each document she showed me.

“I’m a grown woman, Lieutenant Wrath, even if my parents treat me as a child.” She straightened to her full height and kept her chin up. “When Haylor proposed this solution, I was most curious to see if the stories he told about you were accurate.”

“I didn’t share that much with him,” I said.

“He asked around, checked with his sources, and came to the conclusion you are a dangerous and powerful man,” Cissi said.

“And he still sent you?”

“No one sent me, Lieutenant. I travel as I wish for as long as I like.” She motioned with one hand. The gesture seemed like a promise of reasonableness. “Your ship will have rules, I assume, and I will abide by them.”

“Uh, right. Good.” I stepped back as she started up the ramp.

She hesitated. “I’m sorry, did you not wish for me to board?”

“Answer one question,” I said. “What is dark empathy?”

“You speak of kaunis? Interesting.”

“I need to find a pair of Avians who have it.”

“How terrible,” she said. “Maybe I should reconsider. No one has convinced me that marriage is worth much. Your question worries me. An Avian with kaunis will be even less welcomed by my people than I am.”

Nova appeared at the top of the ramp, hesitated, and hurried to join us. “Hello. I’m Sergeant Cynthia Nova. Good to meet you, Cissi.”

The Avian shook her hand. “You know my name?”

“I know a lot of things. Unlike some people I could mention, I ask questions before leaping into new situations,” Nova said. “Can we talk for a moment, Lieutenant?”

“Good idea.” My sergeant had monitored my frustrating conversation with the Avian girl. I wondered if she realized how thoroughly I’d fumbled the first impression.

“Do I just stand here on the ramp then?” Cissi asked, looking young and innocent.

I motioned her into the ship. “Come with us. I’ll find you a cabin.”

Nova kept her face unreadable.

Cissi extended her hands from the folds of her sleeves and gave something to Nova.

Nova examined a delicate sheet of paper folded into the shape of a bird in flight. “What’s this?”

“You,” Cissi said.

Nova grinned, then nodded her head at me. “Doesn’t he get one?”

“Oh, yes. I almost forgot.” She tossed me a wadded-up piece of paper.

I caught it, puzzled over what it might be, and only then saw the twinkle in Cissi’s eye. “You’ve got jokes.”

She burst out laughing.

Nova joined her. “You’re going to be fun. Welcome aboard.”

“Thank you.” Cissi took back my paper ball. “I will try again, Breaker Wrath. You are, how do you say it? A good sport. All will be well. There will be no problems with customs on Avian Prime. My uncle is very important and respected on our home world.”

“Have you been there?” I asked.

“When I was a baby.”

Nova gave me a look I understood. This precious young woman was living in a dream world. Nothing would be easy about this phase of the investigation. If things went right, we would gain access to Avian Prime and would find two individuals willing and able to help us. If things went wrong, we would leave empty-handed and Cissi the origami artist would be brokenhearted and without prospects.

* * *

“I don’t understand why they have wings.” Cates checked our progress. Again, the transit took longer than expected. Void travel seemed to be growing more inconsistent each time we left one system in favor of another.

Kyn answered. “Why do you have fingernails?”

I covered my eyes against the light from the navigation screens, again swearing not to sleep in the command chair of the Soft Touch. My cabin would be quieter. Nothing was happening here, so why couldn’t I stay away?

“Because I have fingers.” Cates tipped back his old-world hat and leaned toward the Glosser. “You got a point?”

“Of course.” Kyn presented his hands. “I don’t have fingernails because I don’t need them.”

“What if you need to peel open a label?” Cates pressed.

“This is not a problem for me, nor is it for you if you’re honest. When was the last time you performed such a task? You have fingernails that were once very important for your survival. The Avians needed their wings, but that changed as they grew more technologically advanced.”

“Some people think they poisoned themselves and altered their DNA about a thousand years before humans arrived in Andromeda.” I didn’t bother to open my eyes or sit up. “How long is this transit going to take?”

Cates answered. “You should hit the rack, boss. We’ve got it covered. Nova and Yolo are next on the rotation.”

“When does their watch start?” I asked.

“How about now?” Nova strode in with Yolo and Cissi. All three seemed in a good mood. They had that look of three women who had shared about ten private jokes right before walking in and weren’t going to explain any of them.

I was glad to see Nova relax. She’d come a long way since joining the squad but still defaulted to rules and regulations in most circumstances. To her credit, her intelligence gave her flexibility. She wasn’t a bore. I just wanted her to enjoy the camaraderie of our unorthodox squad a bit more.

Cissi handed Cates a paper horse with wings, then bowed before giving Kyn a folded bird that could have been the wind manifested in the most delicate material anyone could find.

“Don’t forget the boss,” Yolo said, barely suppressing a grin.

I sat up in time to catch the tossed wad of paper. It wasn’t even a ball this time.

Cissi made a sad face. “I can’t seem to make yours into anything.”

My squad laughed uproariously.

I held the malformed bit of trash up to the light. “I like it.”

“Really?” Yolo asked.

“Absolutely. I’ll name it George and keep it with me through thick and thin. Thank you, Cissi.”

She smiled broadly, revealing something about her personality that was normally hidden. The spark in her eyes was half curiosity and half approval, like she baited people often and they rarely measured up. I wasn’t sure what I had done to pass her test but believed I was onto something.

“You are welcome, Breaker Wrath.” She curtsied deeply.

For a second, no one realized what she’d done. I bowed like we would dance a round, which earned another smile from the young woman.

Nova stepped toward the controls and changed the subject. “Why is this transit taking so long? We’ve been at this for three days. No one gets adequate rest during a transit.”

“Agreed,” Yolo said. “Makes me wonder how we survived the journey from the Milky Way to Andromeda. I wake up like someone stood on my chest all night.”

“Transit waves are changing.” Cissi met each questioning look with earnest, wide open eyes. “You didn’t know this? Perhaps Avian navigationists are superior to yours. This has been a problem since the first human fleet arrived.”

No one responded. Every sentient race thought, often publicly, that humans sucked at void navigation and science in general. Even the Raziks, who barely had a language, looked down on us.

“I have never heard that,” Nova said.

I kept my tone light and even to avoid sounding defensive or annoyed. “Maybe you can help us figure it out or tell us who can.”

Cissi smiled. “I would love to discuss transit navigation. Agent Fathers and your ship AI seem to have the best handle on it.”

“Wait, you’re telling me that Regina already talks to you?” Cates tipped back his hat and looked around for support. “She gave me the silent treatment for almost a year.”

“Yes, but now you are great friends—insomuch as an AI can experience such things,” Cissi said. “She is very complimentary of your piloting skills, though not of your stories.”

“Oh. That’s good.” Cates drew back to consider this revelation with obvious mixed feelings.

“May I examine your route?” Cissi asked.

I motioned for her to take the seat next to Kyn, which was the only open spot at the controls. My command chair could do everything needed to fly the ship. By tradition, my place was in the center of the room. It was also the biggest, like a recliner that begged to be slept in.

Kyn greeted her with a smile. She returned it, then examined the readings without touching anything.

“I’ve never actually flown a starship,” she said. “But I once spent a year in academic isolation. Long story. My aunt thought it would smooth my rough edges. Working navigation formulas by hand for eleven hours a day does have benefits, though I hated her for it at the time.”

Nova gave me a look.

I returned it. Cissi was both more and less than she seemed. Her immediate adjustment into our group was like a breath of fresh air, but it also saddened me that such a delightful young woman was somehow an outcast among her people. I wondered why she had to travel all the way to Avian Prime to marry a man she’d never met and wondered further how she felt about it.

Part of me knew she would never complain. Despite her youth, this was a person who concealed her pain and fear and uncertainty. She charmed strangers as a defense mechanism but was unable to satisfy family members and close friends. Soon she would be alone on a world she hadn’t visited since she was an infant.

Nova drew me aside as the rest of the people in the room discussed transit navigation, of all things, with good humor, expanding curiosity, and companionship.

“We got more than we bargained for.”

I smiled a bit sadly, which matched Nova’s mood. “Agreed. We need to do right by this girl.”

“I knew you were an overprotective teddy bear at heart.”

“Guilty,” I said. “I’ll probably have to start kicking your asses to maintain my reputation as a cold-blooded super cop.”

That sent everyone into paroxysms of laughter.

Nova and Yolo took over on the bridge. I excused myself and went straight to my room for a night of dreamless sleep in my own bunk. The idea appealed to me under normal circumstances, but not while we were traveling to a new star system. Like Yolo, I couldn’t believe humanity made it all the way from our home galaxy under such conditions.

“Regina.”

“Yes, boss?”

“What can you tell me about our passenger?”

“She’s very nice.”

I waited for more and was completely unable to sleep now that I was in my bunk. “That’s all I get?”

“What else would you like to know?” Regina asked.

“Is she really that good at flying a starship?”

“Technically, she is not piloting and will not be at the controls. Rather, she is entertaining and educating Cates, Kyn, and the others. Apparently, Fathers shows a hidden talent for transit calculations. Who knew?”

“Not me. The guy is more thoughtful than people credit him for.” I stretched out and put my hands behind my head. The ceiling of my cabin was just as plain as always. “Could I put a screen on the ceiling?”

“Of course, though the previous captain of the Soft Touch ship removed that feature after finding she stayed awake working when she should be resting.”

“Thanks, Regina.”

“We appear to be making progress. The last point we crossed took us a good deal of the way toward Avian Prime.”

“Why is long-distance void travel so inconsistent?”

Regina hesitated only a moment. “The better question is why has it worsened? I checked the data after Cissi’s proposition that the ability to travel eroded after the first human fleet arrived in the Andromeda galaxy, and she is quite correct.”

I sat up in bed. “Does anyone else know about this?”

“Absolutely. Jacob Morales and Jonas Bayle are the only two names I recognize who have queried the same data streams. There is an outside chance they were looking for answers to different questions, but the coincidence is striking.”

I lay back down and tried to think. Before long, I was out like a solar eclipse.

* * *

Everyone but the NCS team gathered on the bridge for the arrival at Avian Prime. Getting this close was a rare thing. Traveling to the surface was unheard of. My squad was adventurous. They looked forward to the unique opportunity. Cissi seemed apprehensive. Her lighthearted banter had abandoned her.

“All right. Looks good. Let’s head back to Earthdale,” I said.

Yolo rolled her eyes. “You’re too funny, boss.”

“Don’t get my hopes up,” Cissi said as tension drained from her expression. “I want to go, of course, but this is a big deal.”

“You don’t have to marry anyone. You’re young,” Nova said.

Cissi smiled and touched her arm.

Not wanting to interrupt, I waited for the conversation to continue. Neither woman expanded on the topic. I activated the controls in my command chair and checked several screens for arrival data and communication requests. Cates sat rigid at his screen, hands resting on the keys like he’d forgotten how to use them.

“Has Avian Prime flight control responded to our hail?” Something was wrong. I could feel it. Normally, we would have been told exactly where to dock and given a precise time window to comply.

“Nothing, boss.” Cates looked miserable. The rest of the room went silent.

Numbers appeared on all screens. My heart fell into my stomach. “Everyone out.”

“You heard Lieutenant Wrath,” Nova said. “Clear the bridge.”

I waited until everyone but my second-in-command had left. “You as well, Sergeant.”

She didn’t argue, though I knew she wanted to stay. Her loyalty flew like an Alliance of Planets flag on Departure Day. I wished she could be here for this.

Slowly, reluctantly, I typed a code with my left hand and faced the screen camera. “Lieutenant Benjamin Breaker, APOP Sentient Crimes Division, reporting.”

Admiral Chan appeared on a black field. No details betrayed his location or even what time of day it was. He was short of two meters tall but seemed to tower over his subordinates. His military buzz cut was mousy brown, his eyes gray, and his posture effortless. I doubted he had ever slouched, but neither had he ever tried not to slouch.

“Lieutenant Wrath,” he began. “Director Lively warned me this might be an issue. I’ll cut straight to the point. Do you genuinely need to carry your investigation to the surface of Avian Prime?”

“Yes, sir. I’ve exhausted all possibilities. This is the only way I can complete the assignment Director Lively gave me.”

He stared through me for a second.

I didn’t enjoy the look. Waiting for him to speak was pure agony.

“You are not the first visitor,” he said. “This and other variables above your pay grade puts me in a difficult position. I can authorize you to disembark to the spaceport. You will need local permission to move beyond that point. If there is any other option, I require you to take it.”

“There is no other way for me to proceed. I have a way to gain terrestrial travel authorization once my ship lands.” I sensed he didn’t want to be embroiled in my work-around of Avian regulations.

“Good man.” He relaxed, though only a keenly observant spectator would notice the difference. “I will inform the control tower. Get in, take care of business, and get out. I don’t have time for drama with the Avians. If Director Lively hadn’t come to me personally, I would have told you to fly in the other direction—especially with your history there.”

“Understood, sir.”

Chan ended the connection.

“Thank you, sir. That was an inspiring speech. Thank you for your support. We won’t let you down,” I said.

Regina beeped. “Who are you talking to, boss?”

“Myself apparently. Get Cates and the others in here. We have clearance to the spaceport. After that, I will need contact with Cissi’s family on Avian Prime—or whoever is handling the details of her visit.”

11

Cates flew like a true professional, earning every part of his specialist designation. Kyn communicated with local authorities, an arrangement that worked well. He was adept at pretending deafness to their unreasonable demands. We just kept flying, counting on Admiral Chan’s clearance codes, until we landed at the planetary spaceport. Avian Prime had never been a planet surrounded by orbital platforms. There were relatively few weather satellites, now that I thought about it.

Spying on the populace was not done. That way lay danger of another misunderstanding no matter who was doing the surveillance. Here the protocol was to park your butt on the ground and wait for local officials. Maybe they would give you a pass to the rest of the spaceport. Perhaps a miracle would grant you access to the rest of the planet.

Nova loitered near the door, not wanting to seem as though she were watching over Cates’ and Kyn’s shoulders. I knew she could land the Soft Touch in her sleep.

“On most planets, shuttles to the surface are the rule,” she said.

I kept my voice even to avoid distracting my pilots. “Here it is the opposite. The locals don’t like anyone or anything orbiting their world. Arrive, land, and then leave—that is what they always want.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “They’re going to love us.”

“No doubt.” I felt good despite everything we faced.

“We’re down,” Cates finally said.

“Didn’t feel a thing.” I suspected this would earn a snappy comeback.

“That’s what she said,” Cates drawled on cue.

Kyn furrowed his brow. “I do not understand this joke you always share.”

“It’s not a great joke.” I strode out of the cockpit. “Nova, let’s see who came to meet us.”

“I’m with you.” She matched my stride.

Fathers, Yolo, Woods, and Omar waited in the loading bay of the Soft Touch. They weren’t wearing tactical gear, but had it close at hand, ready to be pulled from lockers and dropped over street clothing. Mirrors loitered in the threshold of the hallway leading to the forensic laboratory.

Sergeant Faulkner and the entire NCS squad was in full combat kit but tucked into the armory and locker room. At a word, they would spring into action. There was almost no danger of a fight, but I respected their readiness. That was why they were aboard the Soft Touch, after all.

Just in case.

Cissi stood alone, appearing nervous and vulnerable.

“Can I walk with you?” she asked. “My people will not respect me if I hide in the ship overlong.”

Nova spoke under her breath. “Not a great idea. We don’t know what we’re getting into.”

I agreed but didn’t know how to sidestep the request. Things were easier when everyone on the ship worked for me.

“Could you wait at the top of the ramp? Act like you own the place. Present the impression you own the ship if that satisfies local custom.” Ideas came and went. All I cared about was contacting the customs officers, satisfying them, and not embarrassing the girl.

She appeared uncertain. A strand of hair came loose. She brushed it back even as she rapidly nodded. “That could work. I’ve never done anything like this. Books don’t capture what this feels like.”

“Coming home can be hard,” I said. “Let Sergeant Nova and me smooth the way, then stride down like a princess.”

She smiled and again nodded a beat too quickly. “Okay. Thank you.”

Nova fell in beside me as we went down the ramp. “She’s a sweet kid, no matter how old she is in Avian terms. These jerks better not give her any grief.”

“Agreed, but that isn’t our problem. We’ll do what we can.” My attention shifted to the officials approaching the Soft Touch. “I think we are getting more than the standard customs officers.”

Nova’s face went hard. I felt bad for whoever in this group gave her trouble.

I took the lead, stopping just out of arm’s reach and bowing to the leader as was the tradition the last time I was here. Too late I realized how long that had been and how much had changed for the worse between humans and Avians.

A tall, narrow-shouldered local with wings so straight I suspected they were bound together and tied down to his back moved ahead of the others. He eyed me for a moment, then slowly returned the bow. “You are Lieutenant Benjamin Wrath, formerly of the Breaker Corps and now assigned to the Alliance of Planets Outworld Police Sentient Crimes Division?”

“That’s me,” I said. “Pleasure to meet you, honored one. APOP SCD, quite a mouthful.”

“Yes. Humans love acronyms.” He dragged his eyes up the ramp, then settled on a cold evaluation of Cissi. “She is holding a letter from her uncle on Earthdale.”

I glanced back, then to Nova for confirmation before answering. “That is my understanding. The young woman is very special. I wish her and her fiancé all the honor and admiration due them.”

He sniffed. “I am Iso Dak, Minister of Customs.”

“Honored to meet you.” My gut tightened at the cold look in his eyes. Few sentients could match that hard stare. The last time I’d seen it had been after a hard fight no one won.

“Bring her forward,” he commanded.

I stalled for several seconds, not liking his tone at all. Unreasonable anger boiled just below my next words. Hiding my reaction took effort I was only barely willing to exert. “No need to bring her. Cissi is a woman traveling of her own accord, legally and with the full knowledge of her family. I’ll see if she wants to talk.”

“Wait.” He hissed until I wondered if he was sick or delivering some ultimate Avian insult I didn’t understand. After twenty or thirty seconds, he made a hacking sound, then breathed in.

“Are you all right?” My tone matched his. Our words had turned to steel.

“She is un-marriageable. Nothing can change that.”

Unaware of the turn in the conversation, Cissi began down the ramp.

I cursed inwardly.

“Her reputation is known. She has been raised off-world, far from Prime. Things have changed here. We will not allow pollution into our bloodlines.”

“First of all, that makes zero sense. Living someplace doesn’t change your genetics.” I moved closer, towering over him, an effect increased by my heavy frame and pissed off mood.

“Breaker. Slow down,” Nova said quietly.

I tried to heed my sergeant’s advice… for about two seconds. “You can’t treat her like this. She hasn’t done anything wrong. How can you or anyone else deny her an honest visit to her family and her suitor?”

His cold eyes burned bright as the sun now, stabbing into me like we had a personal grudge. “Our leaders have not forgotten what humans did here. You are not the person to speak for her. Oh, but wait. There is no one here to do that. I don’t see her family, or friends, or a court appointed advocate. Only you and this outlander woman and her insolent posture.”

“I’m about to show you insolent.”

This time I held Nova back, grabbing her by one arm as she tried to step around me to grab Iso Dak by the throat.

Cissi stalled on the ramp. Wide-eyed, she appeared frozen in time. I needed to do something but understood I’d already done too much.

She clenched her fists and completed her journey, stopping right before the Customs Minister like she was a queen. “Good day to you, Minister Dak. May the sky welcome your dreams and all good things come to you.”

“And to you,” he said grudgingly.

She held the letter forward. “My uncle has written a letter of recommendation. Not for the marriage, because that is my own business, but to the Agency of Art and Imagination where he believes I will show value. I have taught graduate level courses for a year and undergrad for several semesters before that.

“Impressive.” Iso Dak curled one side of his mouth as he spoke the words. “It changes nothing. Go back to Earthdale and find an off worlder of your own class.”

“My own class? Have we revived that brutish custom?”

Dak sneered at Cissi.

“Minister,” I said. “Let’s start over. I’m sure we can work this out. Why bother yourself? Her family can handle it from here.”

“Do you see them?” Dak’s confidence returned. “Go back to your ship. Complete your pre-flight inspections and leave. Avian Prime has no use for any of you.” He spun and marched away.

Cissi stood as though she’d been clubbed over the head.

“I’m thirsty, Cissi,” Nova said as she took her hand. “Join me in the galley?”

Cissi nodded, still unsure of what happened or what to do next.

I watched them for a moment, then faced Minister Dak, hoping he would return to give me a piece of his mind so I could give him a piece of my fist. Cool air brushed my skin. The soft light of dusk on one of the most beautiful worlds I’d ever seen melted my rage. I was still angry but in control.

Breakers had to know when not to break. That’s what I told the new members of the team long ago. It had sounded stupid then and hadn’t improved over time.

Nova met me at the top of the ramp. “Yolo and Woods are with her. The girl cries beautifully.”

“Weird thing to say.” I couldn’t focus. My job had been simple, deliver a delightful young woman to her new life. “What the hell just happened?”

“We ran into one disgruntled functionary.” She glanced into the ship, toward the general direction of Cissi’s misery. “That won’t stop us from getting her to her family, will it? Maybe they’re not here because they weren’t told she was coming or hadn’t realized she had arrived.”

I nodded, glad for her clear-headed analysis. She followed me to the galley where Woods, Yolo, and Cissi sat at a table sipping tea. The girl wept, dabbed her eyes with a napkin, and was the most heartbreaking example of innocence I had ever seen. Now I understood what Nova meant about the way she cried. Her voice was beautiful, her sorrow real, and we all wanted to make this right no matter the cost.

Not everything was a galactic crisis. This small event meant something to her, and probably every life she was part of for as long as she lived.

I put one hand on her shoulder, relatively certain the gesture was the same in both cultures.

She covered my fingers with hers, then squeezed. “Thank you for standing up for me. I know you did what you could.”

“Cissi, I’m just getting started.” I motioned to the others. “This crew doesn’t take no for an answer. You will be reunited with your family. No worries.”

She nodded. Her tears continued to flow, but now there was a light in her eyes, and she sounded relieved and reassured rather than heartbroken.

12

I sprinted against the steep resistance of the treadmill. Sweat poured from my body. Barely able to breathe, I couldn’t think of anything but surviving the workout—which was the point.

Half of Faulkner’s Nonmilitary Combat Specialists worked out on weights, treadmills, and other cardio machines. Corporal Inio swam like an angry fish in the three-meter performance pool. His sloppy but energetic technique wasn’t enhanced by the gravity manipulated current. I’d tried the swimming treadmill once and felt like I was drowning the entire time.

My muscles gave out. I slowed to a walk. Legs trembling, chest rising and falling in a search for oxygen, I soon learned that the escape from reality was short-lived.

I keyed my right ear bud to open a direct channel to Nova. I only gave Sergeant Faulkner the supervisor link during training or active missions. “Hey, Hot Shot, any updates?”

“No, Breaker. Thanks for using that really cringy nickname from my past.”

“I could call you Cyn like they did in the academy.”

“I could throat punch you.”

“Point taken,” I said. “Any change?”

“No. We’re still getting the silent treatment from customs officials. It’s like we already left as far as they’re concerned. Cissi is sleeping. Yolo is hanging out in the girl's room reading a book. Fathers, Omar, and Lehman check on her about once an hour as well.”

“Good.”

“What’s next?”

I reviewed my limited options. “I ask for help, again.”

Nova looked worried. “Morales might be tapped out. You can't go to him every time we hit a speed bump.”

She wasn't wrong. My other option was Director Lively. He'd given me an order and already secured authorization to travel here. If the man was able to arrange an all-access pass to the planet, he would've already done so. “I have zero local contacts.”

Nova tipped her head, admitting that none of us did.

For a brief moment, I'd hoped that some hidden part of her past involved a best friend forever currently living on Avian Prime. Luck and coincidence didn't solve cases, not when you relied on them. The two almost mystical factors might be steered by preparation and thoroughness, but they were never a plan in and of themselves.

“Regina, send out an encrypted call to Jacob Morales.”

“Right away, boss.”

Nova and I disappeared into our own thoughts and tried not to fidget while we waited. New worries crept into my brain. Pushing them back only fueled the anxiety they created. I sorted through miscellaneous responsibilities and finally shared my frustrations with my Sergeant.

“Every time we travel to a new system, it seems harder. Is that the feeling you're getting?”

Nova rubbed the back of her neck. “I think we need Regina's help.”

I waited, understanding that my ship AI was authorized to assist us without a specific request. She was always listening. What she recorded and analyzed was regulated by safety algorithms. I had only turned off her ability to listen in once, and that was before Nova became part of the team. That case had been a mess, and Regina's over-helpfulness had complicated matters.

“A statistical analysis of intersystem and extrasystem transit jumps shows a linear decrease in efficiency.” Regina pushed documentation to my wrist screen and Nova's fold screen, which she pulled out of her utility pocket after it vibrated.

“It can't be a linear decrease.” I skimmed through the graphs, peeking onto Nova's larger screen to be sure I was seeing what I thought I was. “This looks like some kids C minus final statistics exam.”

“Would you like me to run the calculations?” The ship AI asked.

“Yes.”

I watched Nova work through the computations manually. “You missed your calling as a pilot.”

She snorted. “Good pilots like to actually arrive at their destinations.”

“Most of your service was in the void combat fighters, right?”

“Yep. Most of my ships could at least cross a star system, and several had the range to cross from one system to another for special missions or in case of emergencies.” She frowned over the numbers and put the device away.

“Okay, boss,” Regina said. “I reran the calculations twelve hundred times because I understand how you like even numbers. The graph is accurate. I am certain that we are not the only people to realize the trend.”

I felt lightheaded. Nova looked ready to vomit. I paced, running my fingers through my short hair as I wrestled to understand one more disastrous problem. “We have to make better progress on our investigation if travel is going to be restricted.”

Nova laughed. “Look at the bright side.”

“I'd love to. Please tell me what that is, exactly.”

She shrugged and turned her hands palm-up, a casual gesture she'd picked up from Omar, I thought. “It's not an exponential change. By those numbers, we have six months before interstellar travel as we know it ceases to exist. Everything between star systems will happen at a slow crawl.”

“We're talking about the collapse of society as we know it.” My heart beat like a hammer in my chest. Unreasonable anger threatened to overtake me. I felt like someone should have warned me this was happening. At the same time, I understood fixing galactic star travel wasn't my responsibility, or even something I was qualified to address.

But neither was stopping a war with the Ultar.

“My inquiry to Jacob Morales was refused by his ship AI,” Regina said.

I stared at Nova because Regina didn't have a physical presence toward which I could direct my confusion. She shook her head in equal cluelessness.

“What do you mean, message refused?” I asked.

Regina hit me with silence, proof I had annoyed her algorithm. “I sent the message. The only return is an error warning—numbers leading to super-secret restricted restrictions. Very bad juju as Yolo and Fathers say when they’re a few drinks in and talking about politics.”

Cursing might have been appropriate, but I was too frustrated. Investigations often stalled, but this was different. I felt like I’d been led into the wilderness and abandoned.

“There is another person who could help,” Regina said. “You don’t like him.”

“Please tell me it’s not one of Bayle’s agents.” I massaged the side of my head, fighting off a headache that just wouldn’t quit.

“No, boss. It is Minister Jonas Bayle himself. In person. You know, all important and self-satisfied like a typical politician,” she said. “I see why you don’t like him. His ship AI doesn’t seem nice at all, which must reflect on his personality.”

Nova and I headed for the bridge, summoning Faulkner on the way.

“Are you sure you want him in on this?” Nova asked. “He’s got a good tactical resume, but I’m not sure he’s really part of the team.”

“His people will be in the mix sooner or later.” I no longer thought I could control everything and minimize every risk. “Better to have him informed and on the same page than in the dark if something goes against us.”

“I’m not convinced. Faulkner is one of those guys who really only cares about kicking doors and collaring bad guys.” She relented but appeared tense. “We should keep our interaction with Bayle secret.”

“And you’re not sure we can trust Faulkner not to tell someone?”

“It is what it is. I’m sure he means well but may not understand how Morales or even Director Lively will take it.”

“Speak of the devil,” I said as Faulkner entered the bridge. “Let’s step into the ready room.”

Both sergeants followed me. I closed the door. The seal shut, creating a sense of finality. We rarely use this space. During ship-to-ship combat, it was often a necessity, as it was essentially a large self-sustaining room that could be picked up later if the ship was destroyed. The Soft Touch was now a civilian law enforcement vessel, only loosely related to its past role as a fast-moving warship.

“We’re about to attempt contact with Minister Bayle,” I said.

Faulkner could have been a section of floor tile for all the emotion he showed. I’d hoped for a reaction to help me make up my mind. Explaining the stakes to the NCS supervisor would have to be enough.

“I’ve never dealt with the man before. Do you know anything about him or his trustworthiness?”

He considered the question. “I’ve never heard anything good about him. Politics isn’t normally my purview.”

I was committed, I thought. “What happens next should be considered part of our operational security. We don’t talk about it with anyone. Not even after the fact.”

Faulkner perked up. “You’re speaking my language, Lieutenant. I have no allegiance to Minister Bayle, and I abhor gossip. If I’m going to tell a story in a bar two years from now, it will be about some ass kicking me and my team did, not boring politics.”

I looked to Nova. She gave me a nod.

“Regina, tell me what brings the good minister to Avian Prime.” I activated a screen and ran my own searches. Nova and Faulkner took the hint and repeated my efforts without sharing results until we were all ready. The answer turned out to be relatively transparent.

“He sponsored a memorial and a diplomatic mission to help heal the wounds between humans and Avians.” Regina posted several news articles and video clips that matched what I had found during my own searches. Nova nodded. I took that to mean she hadn’t found anything contradictory. Faulkner gave me a thumbs-up.

“All right. Reach out to Minister Bayle. I want two things, the transportation of Cissi to her family and the removal of any problems customs authorities try to put in her way. I also need to conduct an investigation with the understanding that I will not share details due to its sensitive nature.” I drummed my fingers on the screen, feeling like I was leaving something out.

“Make sure Bayle knows this is a private meeting,” Nova said. “I assume he will appreciate the need for discretion, and probably value it more than we do.”

“Understood.” Regina went to work contacting ship AIs and other communication sources to identify the best way to get our message across.

I stretched out in a comfortable chair. “And now we wait.”

* * *

“I don’t like it, but it can work in our favor,” Faulkner said. “I would like two of mine, plus Fathers and Woods. They seem to be a good team. Cates and Kyn can work with Regina on comms and digital security. The rest of my team will stand by as a quick reaction force, and your agents can focus on anything investigative.”

Nova smiled and gave me that look that said she was surprised and satisfied.

I reviewed the screen Faulkner had provided. Communications frequencies, maps, alternate routes, and key surveillance points had all been neatly labeled. “Good work, Sergeant. This will be our first parking garage meeting, believe it or not.”

“You really haven’t lived until you’ve taken down a suspect on level six of a glide car parking tower,” Faulkner said dryly.

We reviewed the plan, made assignments, and headed to the extreme end of the spaceport where we were technically allowed. Local officials wouldn’t take long to realize we had left our ship. Security was lax but only because it was heightened elsewhere. There was zero chance we could leave the spaceport without getting picked up by local law enforcement. Our APOP credentials meant nothing here even though Avian Prime was part of the AP.

Lehman met us in the deployment bay with a big grin. “I love these glide vans. They won me a bet. Omar didn’t think we would ever use them.”

“Any problem taking them out of storage?” I had nearly forgotten we had them. Even on a friendly world, there were so many permits and inspections needed to use your own ground vehicle that it was generally easier to borrow from a local agency or rent something. Technically, we wouldn’t be breaking any rules, because we were only driving to the parking garage at the far end of the spaceport.

He wiped grease from his hands with a well-used towel. “We had to rebuild a steering column, and completely remove and replace the backup wheels in case the glide function goes out. Kyn and the others were helpful. Even some of the tactical guys helped. Real team effort.”

I noted Cissi standing near a wall, staying out of the way. Lehman followed my gaze, then spoke. “She’s shy. Woods offered her a chance to help, but she seemed afraid of tools even if all she had to do was hold them.”

“Not everyone is a jack-of-all-trades,” I said. “How many young women like to get greasy in a repair shop? On second thought, forget I asked.”

Once deployed, the vans filled up most of the bay. The Soft Touch wasn’t a large vessel. This was an example of how much she had packed away for emergencies. I checked on each agent and specialist, then climbed in behind the wheel of the first vehicle. Nova jumped in the front passenger seat. Faulkner, Woods, Fathers, and two of his tactical operators climbed into the second van.

I drove straight to the meet up. Woods pursued in the other vehicle, her driving style just as boring as mine. Local officials had placed us in isolation by distance, basically putting us as far from other ships as possible. The parking garage looked dark.

“Is it closed?”

Nova typed on her fold screen, waited, and answered. “It’s automated at this hour. From our side, there’s no tollbooth. Anyone coming from the street level would have to pay and get a marker before entering. Faulkner’s plan seems solid. Just a drive across a couple of runways.”

We reached the gray concrete building and pulled inside. Woods maintained a safe following distance but remained close enough to help if this became a gun battle. Just the idea made me want to curse. Keeping the meeting a secret would be impossible if this went sideways. And then I’d have to explain to my mentor and benefactor what I had been doing colluding with the enemy.

The glide vans climbed level after level and eventually reached the second from the top. Minister Bayle’s security team was already in place, two guards at each stairwell and black vehicles near each ramp. I suspected they were armored and contained full tactical teams behind the mirrored glass.

Time passed as Faulkner surveyed how Bayle’s security team had deployed. When he came on the mic, it was all business. “We’re set. You’re good to proceed.”

“We’re making contact. Everyone stay sharp.” I stepped out, and so did Nova.

She met me at the front of the van and matched my pace. “I hope this works.”

“Me too.”

Minister Bayle waited near a pillar. He was small and dangerous, and he dressed in a militaristic uniform. He’d been an infantry grunt, I knew that much. According to popular sources, he’d fought in several of the rare planetary actions during the Transit Wars. The man hadn’t participated in the Transit Rebellion because the ship he’d been serving on had been missing in action for almost two years. Picking the winning side was easy by the time the ship he was assigned to returned.

His reputation exceeded his experience, in my opinion. That was one of the reasons it was easy for me to side with Morales instead of him. While not a fraud, I didn’t see him as a brother-in-arms.

“You showed up.” Bayle scowled.

“Easy with the enthusiasm, Minister.” I felt Nova take a step away from me and wanted to smile. The woman understood a flanking maneuver and what it meant to be ready for anything. Strangely, her presence reassured me more than Faulkner’s entire tactical team.

“You are insolent. Maybe that is why Morales likes you. He could be your father.” Bayle scanned the terrain, but never settled his vision on any one point. That was a mark in his favor. The man wasn’t giving away his assets whether they be combat personnel, drones, or nuclear shaped charges.

“Nah, more like a favorite uncle that let me shoot guns in the backyard when my mom wasn’t close enough to stop us.”

To my surprise, his eyes changed. Maybe in his world that was a smile or the first step to mutual respect.

Not that I wanted anything to do with the snake.

Nova was wary. I doubted Bayle or any of his bodyguards—visible or hidden—could read her expression. There was a reason she had so easily hustled me and my squad at slider pool. The woman knew how to play a role.

“I made adjustments to our long-range cover,” Woods whispered in my left ear.

Nova heard the update as well, then turned away to answer so Bayle couldn’t see her mouth moving. “Understood. Watch for the unseen.”

“Oh, I’ve already found three snipers and a chase vehicle concealed behind a crane, and I picked up their comms,” Woods said.

I sidled closer to Bayle, stalling our conversation as naturally as possible so I could hear the rest of Woods’s report. She was probably on top of a van or had climbed up a level to peer down between gaps in the garage floor.

“He’ll ask you to go with him. Probably to his ship. Their squad code is a variation of what I learned in recon school. I think I’m understanding it.”

“Thanks, Woods.” Nova turned back and briefly made eye contact to ensure we both heard my sniper-trained agent.

Bayle crossed his arms. His expression returned to baseline—neutral with a touch of disdain. “Is your team done checking in?”

I didn’t answer but made a note. Bayle was infantry trained. This environment favored him, especially when he dictated the rules.

Seconds later, after a grim staring contest, I broke into a smile and shook his hand vigorously, unbalancing him. “Thanks for meeting with us, Minister. Damn glad to meet you in person. I hope you can help us. We’re all in this crazy galaxy together, right?”

“If you say so.”

I wasn’t sure what came over me. Something about the man’s stoic face made me want to mix things up, force him to react.

Fathers’s voice came through the squad channel. “The Great Lorenzo approves of these shenanigans.”

“The look on his face,” Woods added.

I eased back, locked my opponent with a no-nonsense stare, and began negotiations. “I have two things I need from you.”

He maintained his icy composure. “Neither will be a problem. I can guess what you want and already made arrangements. We’ll discuss details on my ship to avoid prying eyes.”

“That wasn’t what we agreed to.”

“If you want to deliver the young woman to her family and conduct any type of investigation on this planet, you will adapt.” He walked to his van. “Follow me.”

“Boss?” Woods had surprising news by the sound of her voice.

“Go.”

“He’s not wrong about surveillance. I just spotted three watchers with scopes and listening cones. All Avian, all blacked out like stealth crows.” Her mic emitted a rustling sound as she shifted position. “I’m using that term literally. We all know how you don’t call them birdies. These spies are like nothing I’ve seen. Definitely soldiers.”

“Nova?” I asked.

“Fall back to our own ship or go with Bayle.”

I exhaled a long string of sounds that were probably curse words but made me feel better. “You and me. Everyone else adjust on the move.”

“You will be on your own inside the ship, unless I’m authorized to breach with my full team,” Faulkner said in my right ear mic.

“Set it up. Stand by. Don’t make a move unless it is a last resort, and I mean it is really a last resort. Storming Minister Bayle’s private starship won’t play well with our superiors.” I hustled to catch up with Bayle and surprised him at the door to his vehicle. “We’ll ride with you.”

He narrowed his gaze.

The man was harder than I expected. His affinity for military-like clothing despite leaving that career had always sat wrong with me. Now I understood there was more to my benefactor’s rival than I’d previously believed.

He dressed like a grunt because he was one. “You’re going to trust me not to drive you into a back alley and have you murdered?”

I pointed at Nova. “My sergeant is coming with me, and my team needs to split. One will follow us. The other has to assemble my NCS team to storm your ship if this goes bad.”

He snorted a laugh. “Morales always said you are blunt and fearless.”

I spread my hands and smiled winningly. “That’s me. Transparent as a book.”

“That is a mixed metaphor.” He signaled his guards, then addressed his driver and team leaders. “We have passengers. Adjust your operational dimensions.”

Nova gave me a serious look as we climbed into the middle row of seats.

“Aren’t you supposed to talk me out of bad ideas?”

She surveyed the driver, bodyguards, and Bayle in the front seat as she answered. “I’m good at other things, but not that, apparently.”

13

I followed Bayle into his private office, noticing wear on his combat boots and permanent creases in his combat fatigues from where they had been pressed over and over—probably by an assistant but whatever. The uniform-like attire wasn’t just for show. The man thought of himself as an active-duty soldier.

Did this change my opinion of him, and if so, should I allow it? He wasn’t my enemy, but that didn’t make him a friend.

What would Morales think if he learned of this meeting?

Bayle was small, wiry, and intimidating. The men and women around him respected his authority, never questioned him in public, and remained loyal. I was surprised at how many of his officers, advisors, and bodyguards were familiar from videos I’d seen over the years. That had to mean something. If high attrition was a sign of poor leadership, what did staff loyalty mean?

I stood near the edge of the large conference table that dominated the center of the room. Nova faded back and took a seat where she could cover the doorway and listen to our conversation. Bayle leaned against the table instead of sitting. Arms crossed, he looked about as happy to see me as he would a food stain on his best uniform.

“Let’s begin with why the APOP is here.”

I resisted the urge to throw the question back at him. What was he doing here? “You may know I have been investigating a rash of triple homicides. In each case, Avians were two of the victims. My work here is follow-up. Beyond that, the details of an active investigation are not public record until someone is charged in a court of law.”

“You made an arrest,” Bayle said. “My associates tell me it is a good case. Not the best, but more than enough to hold Tracey Block and several of his associates for years. Aren’t you done?”

“No.”

“That’s all you can tell me, or all you’re willing to tell me?”

“Why are you here?” I asked.

“Business and diplomacy. Check my travel logs and you will find nothing out of the ordinary.” He walked around the room, motioned for me to take a chair, and then sat at the head of the table. Each time he moved under a ceiling light, a different aspect of his appearance was revealed. Most angles made him appear old and mean. “I thought about going into law enforcement… but chose the more honest career of politics. Tell me you’ve never taken a bribe or bent the rules.”

Heat rose into my face, warning me to control my words. “I’m breaking some rules by not punching you in the face.” Okay, I tried to play it cool.

Bayle chuckled and waved the issue away. “That was ungentlemanly of me. How could you not be provoked?”

I kept my mouth shut. There was no reason to push my luck. He had something I wanted. Best to play nice until I got it.

“Accept this in lieu of an apology,” he said. “The specific, actual reason I am here on this trip is to locate a certain financier. My son, Cambridge, has everything set up to allow his movement on the planet—which takes years to arrange, by the way. You can’t imagine the bureaucracy here.”

“You must be proud.”

“Now look at who is ungentlemanly.”

I felt like a jerk, a manipulated jerk who had underestimated the minister. “Sorry. That was a dick thing to say.”

He ignored my crudity. “Here is my point. Help me and help yourself.”

“How would that work?” I asked. “He would need to be with us the entire time in case local officials demand to see our travel visas.”

“Exactly. His authorization will cover anyone with him or assisting him. Since my son is as generous as I am, we would attend to your needs first—deliver the girl, conduct your interviews—and only then contact the money man. Easy. Everyone wins.”

I analyzed everything Bayle said, weighed pros and cons, and guessed at his true motives.

“I don’t like it,” Nova said.

Bayle smiled broadly. “Of course not. You’re good at your job, and loyal. Lieutenant Wrath is lucky to have you on his team pumping the brakes on this type of negotiation, though I wonder why he doesn’t utilize your piloting skills more.”

He couldn’t know who normally flew my ship without digging into flight plans Cates had submitted. I assumed the man was guessing, taking a swing to see how Nova and I would react.

“She’s not that good. Overrated, actually.”

Nova glared at me, but only for a second.

“You should work for me where you would be appreciated,” Bayle said. “Think about it, Sergeant. I pay well, and you wouldn’t constantly straddle the line between hero and villain.”

I interrupted before he made her a serious offer. “Let’s talk specifics. How many people can I bring?”

Bayle pressed a button. “Cambridge is better prepared to explain the limits of his visa.” Moments later, his son strode into the room. Tall, fit, and impeccably dressed, he was everything his father had wanted to be—or that was my guess. Hell, I wanted to be this kid with nothing but opportunities and accolades in his future.

The blond-haired youth was in his mid-twenties—not a kid. I should hate him, but somehow I didn’t. Where his father was dangerous and untrustworthy, he came across as dangerous and completely reliable. Here was someone you wanted on your side. I immediately hoped Cambridge Bayle did surpass his father, in both achievement and integrity.

Nova was also affected, but she remained wary as was her nature.

Cambridge went to her first, since she was nearest the door, and put forward one hand. “Cambridge Bayle, good to meet you.”

She shook without breaking eye contact or surrendering to the strength of his grip. “Cynthia Nova.”

He crossed the room to shake my hand. “Hello, sir. I’ve heard all about your recent success in the Avian homicides. Good work. We all thank you for your service.”

I nodded.

Jonas Bayle motioned for everyone to sit, and even convinced Nova to move from her chair near the doorway to the table. The room was poorly illuminated by the stylized lamps but was otherwise welcoming and full of good energy. I felt better about this bargain despite initial misgivings.

“Lieutenant Wrath wants to know how big an army he can bring,” Jonas said.

His son nodded seriously. “I can take five. The plan was me, an interpreter, and three from my tactical team. There would just be the two of you?”

I didn’t react. Neither did Nova. Five was a small number, especially if I had to include Cissi in the count.

“I speak passable Avian, and they use human-galactic—Galactic Standard—by and large. It’s not a best practice, but we could forgo the interpreter. Two bodyguards are nearly as good as three.”

“I need four slots.”

He stared at me incredulously. “That many?”

I counted them off on one hand. “Me, Sergeant Nova, Cissi, and at least one of my investigative squad, probably Kyn in the event we need a non-human sentient for some reason. He’s a Glosser and one of my best agents.”

Cambridge nodded at my last point. “That’s smart. We’re not popular on this world. The Avians on New Helena are very friendly to us by contrast. I learned and refined my language skills there. Too bad I can’t bring my interpreter. He understands the culture better than we ever will. But to your point, a Glosser might be just what we need. Avians don’t hate them without cause.”

“This isn’t going to work,” I said. “Four is a number that might be sufficient. I actually need six. Woods and Fathers are crucial to every small unit operation. In a perfect world, my NCS team would be in the air and ready to secure an evacuation site should things get hot.”

“None of that is going to happen,” Cambridge promised. “You can have four.”

“Are you certain?” his father interrupted. “What about your security? There are dangers, as we discussed prior.”

To his credit, Cambridge ignored the second half of the question rather than bow to his father’s suddenly protective tone. “So long as Breaker and his team have my back, I’ll manage. You taught me to handle myself.”

“Training does not equal experience,” Jonas Bayle argued.

“Fortunately, I have both.” The young man’s demeanor bordered on angry but didn’t cross the line into disrespect. He was coming into his own, ready to be his own man. Perhaps that was what this mission was about for him. Getting humiliated by his father in front of APOP agents probably hadn’t been on his list of things to do today.

I didn’t like any part of it. Cissi’s expression remained vivid in my memory. Glaynia’s warnings were just as dire as they had been when we met. We needed a way onto the planet, and I understood this was the best deal we could expect. “We should get started.”

Cambridge nodded agreement. “I’m ready when you are.”

* * *

Yolo led me toward Cissi’s room. “You really should have included her in the planning.”

“Her part will be simple. We’re only giving her a ride. She reunites with her family. Lots of big hugs. Then we glide off into the sunset.” I stopped in the hallway to finish talking before knocking on the young Avian woman’s door. “Locating two Avians capable of steering the Ultar away from an intergalactic war will be one problem after another. Mark my words.”

Yolo put out one arm to block my advance. She chewed her lip. “I didn’t want to do this, but since you brought it up, do you want to place odds on either aspect of this mission.”

“I’m not gambling with Cissi’s happiness. That’s just wrong.”

Yolo held up both hands in denial. “That didn’t come out right. I would never bet on something like that, and neither would Fathers, Omar, Lehman, Cates, Kyn, Woods, Nova, or Mirrors. I’m just saying, are you willing to put your money where your mouth is about this mission being easy?”

“Nova is in your gambling pool now?” I hit her with a disapproving look. “You’re corrupting your boss.”

“Ten to one odds there is nothing simple about taking Cissi to her family’s home,” Yolo said.

“I’m in.”

Yolo scanned my digit-note code from my wrist screen. “Oh, and by the way, odds are three to one against you finding a pair of Avians that can talk to the Ultar.”

I extended my arm and waited for the second scan. “Like taking money from children. I should be ashamed of myself if I wasn’t doing this just to teach all of you a lesson.”

Yolo stepped aside, extended an arm, and bowed toward the threshold of Cissi’s doorway. “Proceed, oh wise and financially generous boss man.”

There was just enough time for a mock growl under my breath, which made her chuckle.

What would I do without my team? They were my family.

“Cissi, can I come in?”

She opened the door, her eyes red from crying. “Yolo and the others already cheered me up. I’m sorry to be a burden.”

“Trust me, you’re a walk in the park compared to my squad of misfits.”

She scrunched her eyebrows together. “I’m not sure I understand. How could I be an event? This is one of your metaphors?”

“I just meant you are more pleasant than her, for instance.” I pointed at Yolo, who waved and smiled brightly.

“All of you are nice.” Cissi seemed happier than she had been but still sad, like she knew there was only bad news in her future.

“I’ve made arrangements that bypass the customs minister.”

Cissi’s expression shifted from melancholy to alarm, not what I had expected. “That isn’t done. Go back. Undo these arrangements. Bribes are severely illegal and unknown to us for thousands of years. I’m so sorry I didn’t explain that before you tried to fix this mess.”

“No bribes. Nothing like that. I merely found someone with authorization to travel freely about the planet and attached us to their visa.”

The girl went quiet. She slowly toured the room, and I was again struck by her grace. Whatever confidence I’d seen before was buried deep, though not gone. She seemed lost in thought as she watched her feet.

“Are you okay?”

She nodded. “Yes, yes. I am thinking.”

I glanced toward the doorway, wondering if I should call for help. Yolo was right outside. Any member of the squad could arrive in minutes.

Cissi went to a small desk in the corner, removed something, and held it protectively in her hands. If she had been moving with caution before, now she redefined what it meant to be careful. Eyes never leaving her cupped hands and whatever tiny thing was within them, she eventually stopped right in front of me.

I met her gaze.

She looked both younger and wiser, and also very nervous. “This is for you.”

The clamshell she had made with her hands opened slowly. Revealed in one palm was the smallest paper bird I’d ever seen. Each detail was as fine and delicate as something created with tweezers and magnifying goggles.

Barely breathing, I accepted it carefully. “What is this, Cissi?”

“I chose to make one for every member of your squad, even the soldiers who never talk. Teasing aside, I thank you for what you are trying to do and want you to have it. This is the best folding I’ve made.”

“Thank you, Cissi.” Blood thrummed in my veins. This time it carried elation and joy to my heart and mind. I felt like I could fly, and I let out a short laugh.

Cissi smiled. “You like it?”

“It’s the best thing ever.”

“Good.” She backed away. “You are a great leader and a great friend to all of these people. I appreciate what you are trying to do, but it will never work. Asking so much would be wrong.”

“You don’t have to ask, Cissi. We’re glad to help you. As for this plan working, my squad has a way of coming out on top even if there is a lot of bleeding and crying before it’s all over.”

“That sounds terrible.”

“It’s what we do. Yolo will help you pack and explain how the operation will progress. We’re leaving as soon as I find a place to put my new prized possession.”

“Thank you, Breaker Wrath.”

* * *

“Are you sure?” Nova asked. “Cambridge said five people. We need to leave Fathers or Kyn behind.”

“Cissi is Avian. She doesn’t count toward the total allowed in his visa.” I checked my wrist screen, then shifted my shoulders to reposition the body armor under my jacket. We were in light tactical gear, which included ballistic panels worn under street clothing. “Trust me. What could go wrong?”

She smiled despite her best effort to remain stern and practical. “Yeah. We would never get thrown into local prisons or gunned down as off-world lawbreakers and start an intergalactic incident.”

“I should be worried, but I’m in too good a mood.” I surveyed everyone on the team as they conducted buddy checks of the persons on their right and left. “I was here when the fighting broke out. Had nightmares from the moment this planet became our destination. Yet now I’m good.”

Nova, Fathers, Kyn, Cissi, and Cambridge climbed into the unmarked glide van.

“I’ve switched the vehicle in my visa to this one,” Cambridge said. “We should be good to go.” He gestured toward Cissi. “Good call on her not counting against our total. Avians belong here.”

Cissi nodded nervously but said nothing.

“Please attach your safety harnesses. I will now drive this vehicle as though I acquired it illegally,” Kyn said, with a wink.

“That’s drive it like you stole it, and no, don’t do that.” I slapped my hand on the dash. His Galactic Standard was better than that, but the joke was a tradition in the unit. “Roll out, Kyn. Let’s do this.”

Nova and the others in the back gasped as the Glosser sped away from the Soft Touch.

I pushed away thoughts and focused on the moment. This was now, not the past when everything went wrong between humans and Avians. We had a purpose, a mission that mattered. This was the best team I had ever worked with, superior even to my old Breaker unit. If I had to choose between Kalchev, Boomer, and Saint and my APOP squad, the decision would be easy.

Headlights raced across the pavement to illuminate dull gray buildings on each side of the glide way. Brightly lit buildings loomed in the distance, reminding me that this place was full of light and life and music. I could see the shadow of mountains in the even farther distance and knew exactly what they looked like. I could paint them from memory if I had any skill.

The thought reminded me of Katrina Snow, the best combat technician I'd ever worked with. I hoped she realized her dream. I hoped she learned the difference between a paint brush and canvas. Someday, I would have to find her and check in.

“We are nearing the gate,” Kyn said.

Cambridge leaned forward with the credentials. “Allow me to do the talking.”

I wish I’d thought of that earlier. “Switch with me. You will look more official.”

He nodded and complied. We squeezed around each other in between the front seats and eventually landed where we should've been from the beginning. I now sat beside Nova, who looked unperturbed with the undignified crawling about.

My team was steady, though quiet. There was a time for banter and time for quiet focus. Cissi was still nervous and trying to hide it. I thought about the gift she'd given me and prayed the delicate origami would be safe in my handgun vault in my cabin.

Kyn slowed at the security gate and waved to the single guard on duty.

“For all the talk of restricted access, this seems weak,” Fathers muttered from the back of the vehicle. He slouched to minimize his profile. We hadn't tested our theory about the visa, but even if there wasn't a restriction on how many people we could bring, his size often drew the wrong kind of attention.

The guard swaggered to the side of our vehicle, his sidearm hanging low on his thigh rig. He looked back, and I realized there was more to the guard shack than it seemed. Most of the facility was underground. An entire squad of heavily armored infantry stood ready to swarm out if needed.

“Heads up,” I said. “There are more inside the guard shack. Tag the underground bunker on our maps.”

Nova’s voice was cool and calculated. “We won't miss that sort of thing again.” She tapped her wrist screen to send a note to Regina.

I signaled everyone to be quiet.

Kyn rolled down his window. “Good morning, sir.”

The guard looked him over and said nothing. He pushed forward one hand as though requesting documentation.

Cambridge leaned toward the window to hold up a packet. “I am Cambridge Bayle. I have authorization to conduct business and travel on your world.”

The guard accepted the information and returned to the small building. Another guard stepped into the threshold and watched us from a slight distance. Holding a conversation with this individual would be difficult but not impossible. I suspected that was intentional.

We waited. Cambridge grew nervous. His inexperience at espionage already showed. I resisted the urge to offer encouragement or criticism. He needed to learn on his own and I needed to understand his limits.

The initial guard returned, handed back the documentation, and spoke. “Do not stay longer than three days.” He stepped back and waved us through the gate as it opened.

Kyn rolled forward without hindrance from any other traffic at this time of night. The spaceport was on a grand plateau overlooking a river valley and mountains in three directions. Gleaming lights were easiest to see. Closer examination revealed sweeping lines and soft neon colors outlining many buildings. Nightlife surged in the downtown area. Pedestrians moved under decorative streetlamps and string lights stretched over patios, bushes, and trees. Signs displayed famous Avians. Flashing music videos showcased dancers in both traditional and experimentalist modern garb.

Other parts of the city were revealed by our drive—collapsed skyscrapers never rebuilt. Nature reclaimed random sections, covering rubble with vines. Foxes, cats, and other small night creatures peered from their warrens, uncaring that they were well within the city.

In the distance, even larger evidence of the short, ferocious war existed. A chasm sliced into the side of a white-capped mountain. One section was nothing but sheer cliffs without a touch of greenery.

“I’m not sure which feels more haunted,” Nova said. “The abandoned buildings or the mountain range.”

Cissi stared wide eyed, barely listening. Fathers, Nova, and even Kyn had nothing to say for several minutes. I could see them working through their own thoughts. A careful observer noticed focused eyes, posture, nervous gestures no matter how large or small and made conclusions regarding inner workings. I was sure they could read me better than I read them.

“We are successfully away from the spaceport,” Kyn said.

Cambridge leaned forward and typed on the vehicle’s primary screen. “Coordinates. We should work the crowd. Avians have a vibrant nightlife. Maybe you can get some of your questions answered. The sooner we find your negotiators, the better.”

I attempted to remember when, or if, I’d shared exactly why we were searching for the special pair. Had Cambridge just revealed he and his father knew more than they were sharing?

I had a feeling we were going to find out.

14

Light, airy music drifted to my ears. I hung my arm through the open window and enjoyed a night breeze on my face. When I glanced forward to Kyn, he looked serene. The texture of his face and hands fluttered slightly.

He’d never said as much, but I felt this was a sign he felt relaxed and comfortable among us. Gone was the constant need to appear as perfectly human as possible at all times. Technically it wasn’t hair that covered him. Details like that meant something when empathizing with sentients. I took a moment to consider my friend without presumption. Questions drifted up to the surface of thought. What was it that allowed him to alter his appearance? Why was it so easy to forget he had an extra pair of arms tucked away?

“We should leave someone with the vehicle,” Cambridge suggested.

Nova swung her eyes to mine. “Agreed. Good job for a lieutenant.”

“No way. I make the assignments. You or Kyn can stay here and use the comms boost to keep track of us.”

“I don’t mind,” Kyn said. “The air is nice. Wonderful evening to watch strangers doing mysterious things.”

“Good. You know what to do. Look for a secure place to leave the glide van and rendezvous with the team on foot. We may need you and want options.” I turned my attention to Cissi. “Are you ready to visit your home world?”

“Can I stay with Kyn?”

I measured her mood. She was understandably nervous. “Sure. We’ll scout the area, try to find who we need, then deliver you to your family’s building.”

She nodded.

“Nova, Fathers, Cambridge, and me.” I slid open the door. “Split into teams and start looking for pairs of Avians with communications skills.”

“Sounds easy,” Nova said.

“Not with that attitude.” I felt good, light and full of energy. Despite my history with this planet, and this city, I had high hopes. In a few hours, Cissi would be with her family. They could address the rudeness at the spaceport through proper channels. I’d have located a pair of negotiators who could stop a galactic disaster before it started.

“I’ll shadow Fathers and watch his back. The big lug is actually good at meeting new people despite how gruff he seems at first,” Nova said.

I agreed completely. “Ask him to use his words. No smashing or grunting.”

“I heard that, boss.”

Fathers and Nova wandered into a lively crowd around a fountain.

Cambridge clapped his hands together, but not out of nervousness. “Well?”

I soaked in details, searching for the key to this man’s personality. What motivated him? Why was he here? Did he resent his role as his father’s gofer? Did he know his father idolized him?

“I say we do a loop by the restaurants and bars serving the plaza. Some face the fountain and others are tucked into little side streets.” I swept my eyes over patios and balconies occupied by energetic but well-mannered patrons. “Going into the clubs or diners might be too much until we get a feel for local customs. It looks like a lot has changed since I was here last.”

Cambridge was polite enough not to dwell on that last point. “You are the expert. I’ll watch your back and keep my eyes open. Does that work?”

“Perfectly.” He didn’t know what I wanted, and I wasn’t ready to trust an untried investigator anyway. The man was smart and hardworking. I could see that plainly. His father had been right, however, that he was green. The galaxy hadn’t roughed him up yet.

We trolled through the crowds, staying out of people’s way and smiling or waving when possible. The last time I’d been here, Avians had found human expressions to be fun and exotic, though sometimes they feigned terror at the exposed teeth of a human. Back then, the joke had been popular.

“Fine evening,” I said to a group in my best Avian friendly dialect. What we called Galactic Standard had been accepted here since the first arrivals from our home galaxy shared it.

The male Avian nearest us spoke. “Yes, it is. Greetings, wanderer.”

A short chorus of musical speech enveloped us as the group continued on their way.

I spoke before considering my partner. “That went well.”

Cambridge’s serious expression didn’t show concern. He was trying to simultaneously figure me out and understand the sentients around us. “Truly?”

I shrugged.

He pointed at a pastel neon sign in a language neither of us could read. “What is in there?”

“Avian gathering space. Humans may enter, but it’s an awkward and confusing experience. No talking, eating, or anything really. Like a shrine without icons or organization. Henry Saint thought they were like rest stops on a hiking path.”

“So, a bunch of birdie… sorry, of locals cluster together and stare at each other?”

I stepped around a group of young male and female Avians who barely looked at us as they rushed along the sidewalk with drinks held high. “There can be quiet conversation, but only with the person you enter with and no one else. No form of excess is allowed, and there is no trolling for dates or mates, though I’m not sure what that would look like if it happened right in front of me. Sometimes the Avians seem so human I don’t think about our differences despite their wings and facial structure. Other times they are exotic and strange. On very rare occasions, our unseen differences have resulted in bloodshed.”

“The misunderstanding,” he said. “Thousands dead. A city and part of a planet destroyed. The Third Transit fleet crippled. We would have higher standing in the Alliance of Planets if not for that last part.”

He wasn’t wrong, though there wasn’t supposed to be a division of human colonists along the lines of which transit journey they made. Inevitably, those who had been in Andromeda the longest considered themselves royalty of a sort, even if the individual in question only worked part time on a Ship O’ Wash or hauled garbage.

I chuckled, which drew Cambridge’s attention.

“What are you laughing about?”

“Nothing much. Do you ever dream of a simple life? Scraping starships clean and repairing radiation damage, then a cold beer and video games before bed?” I asked.

“Every void damn day.”

That really made me laugh. “You’re all right for a Bayle.”

“Ha. Thanks for that upside down, backhanded compliment.”

We attempted several conversations and got barely more than polite greetings. There was indifference from some of the locals, resentment and suspicion from others. I was glad there wasn’t more open hostility and was smart enough to know that didn’t mean Third Transit humans had been forgiven for everything that had gone wrong.

“There are more outsiders here than I thought there would be,” Cambridge said.

“I noticed that.”

A group of Raziks grunted, snorted, and cursed their way through a crowd near the plaza. The brutes were probably issuing polite greetings and asking for directions in their guttural language—or what everyone grudgingly admitted was some form of communication. They carried weapons at all times, usually clubs when not at war. Intricately decorated rail guns hung on hips and across backs. Each wore bits and pieces of armor like they’d recently stepped out of an action video.

“Have you fought a Razik?” Cambridge asked.

It was a test question, I knew. Despite their appearance and reputation, the warlike sentients were extremely difficult to provoke to violence. They strode around in groups, gripping weapons and glowering at everyone they encountered, and yet were nearly immune to provocation.

“I always feel like they’re looking for this one rival who pissed them off, and when they find him, there will be a hell of a beat down.” My theory wasn’t new, but it was the first time I’d shared it with Cambridge.

“Now I can say I’ve seen them in the flesh.” He pointed toward a group of Glossers. “They don’t normally travel in groups that large, or that’s what I read someplace.”

“You read right.” The first twinge of uneasiness since parking the glide van reared its ugly head. I wasn’t sure why, but this unnerved me more than it should. “Kyn, how copy?”

“Loud and clear, boss.”

“I’m watching a large group of Glossers near the plaza. What should I be looking for? Is this normal?” Caution was needed. I felt something was wrong, so I looked for evidence to backup my misgivings. That was natural, but no way to run an investigation.

“Are they wearing shoes?” Kyn did not sound worried, only curious.

“One second.” I spotted shoes on everyone in the group. “They are wearing footwear. I can honestly say I’ve never paid much attention before.”

“Shoes, boots, or slippers?” Kyn asked.

Cambridge picked up on the conversation and stepped away from me in search of a better angle. Undeterred by any worry he might appear out of place or draw attention, he stepped onto a park bench and held the branch of a decorative tree for balance.

“Soft shoes is all I can identify.”

Cambridge looked down. “Soft shoes or slippers on all but one. The leader is barefoot.”

Kyn clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth several times in rapid succession. He didn’t fidget or show excessive emotion. Now that I’d heard him thinking, I made a note to listen for this behavior in the future.

“There are no festivals, but what you describe feels like a procession—and those are always significant to my people.”

I motioned for Cambridge to climb down while we listened to the explanation.

“I cannot tell you which specific ritual they honor, only that it is peaceful. The strictest traditions require all those who come in peace to remove shoes, boots, and slippers from their feet. It is believed that fighting barefoot is very foolish and often the sign of mental weakness. Whenever a delegation wishes to emphasize their peaceful intentions, one or all must go without protective coverings for his or her feet. The slippers are a weird half measure adopted to alleviate feelings of guilt amongst the followers of the barefoot leader.”

I watched the procession slowly navigate a corner and march toward a steep glide way with a road sign. “Looks like they are marching toward Halvron Inc. That’s a ship manufacturing company if I remember correctly.”

Cambridge confirmed my guess. “My family has several ship contracts with Halvron. Their best factory is here on Avian Prime. Their ships are nearly as good as a Helm-built craft.”

“Okay, this is interesting but not the mission,” I said. “Nova, status report?”

“No one will talk to us,” she said. “Fathers is sampling some type of street cake under the pretense it will make him more approachable.”

“Everyone likes cake.” Fathers chewed audibly and swallowed hard. “I’m just doing my duty, LT.”

“Strong work. I’ll put you in for a commendation,” I said. “Rally at the fountain. We’ll discuss options, then head back to the van. How is Cissi, Kyn?”

“She is quite well and wishes to remind you she could answer for herself.”

“Noted.” I worked through the crowd, determined to enjoy the place even if my reason for coming here looked like a pipe dream at best. Cambridge lagged a step behind and checked his wrist screen constantly.

“Do you have someplace to be?”

He looked up guiltily. “No. I’m fine. Just anxious. The hardest part of these missions is the waiting around. I can’t help but feel there is more to do and I’m missing something important.”

“Focus and stay sharp.” I thought there was more to his distraction but had nothing to go on. He didn’t work for me, and I didn’t know the man well. This could be normal behavior for him a few hours into a mundane operation. Canvasing a crowd of strangers in search of witnesses, or in this case, a pair of collaborators, was slow, discouraging work. We needed an informant or a guide to speed things up.

Nova and Fathers arrived first. Cambridge and I joined them.

“Can we come back when we’re not working?” Nova asked. “Love this place. Can’t say why.”

“There is a certain order to everything here.” My theory felt right even if I wasn’t articulating it well. The APOP SCD sergeant was a pilot, and they loved check lists and flight control routines and rules—even if they secretly sought the chaos of void combat where one mistake was oblivion. “Music, architecture—even their speech has repetitive refrain.”

Fathers nodded thoughtfully. “I can hear the structure of that building.”

“Smart ass.” I scanned the crowd because watching people helped me think.

Nova continued the topic. “I’m sure you’re right, Breaker. Avians don’t fly any better than we do, though I’ve heard stories about the excellence of their pilots. Could that be genetic?”

“Maybe,” I said. “What’s on your mind, Cambridge.”

He dry-washed his hands and looked nervous as an agent straight out of the academy approaching a division chief. “I have one small thing I need to do on my own.”

“We’ll help.” I weighed his reaction. “Splitting up is unsafe and inefficient. We don’t have time for that. We’re on the clock.”

“Plus, you are the only person here with a valid visa. We’re only covered when you’re with us, or am I wrong?” Nova asked.

“You’re right.” Cambridge avoided direct eye contact.

I stepped into his line of sight. If he wanted to look away now, it would be embarrassingly obvious. “You’re holding something back.”

“Of course I am. My father gave me a job to do, and it doesn’t include relying on the vassal of his arch enemy.” He sidestepped me, then paced to the edge of the conversational range and turned back. “I’m not told everything.”

“You poor bastard,” Fathers said.

Cambridge reddened. “Have you heard of operational security? Need to know? Stakes larger than yourself.”

“That’s all stuff they tell you when they’re lying and know you and your squad mates are going on a suicide mission.” Fathers spoke evenly. Intensity filled each word, but he didn’t shout or curse.

Cambridge didn’t have a response.

“Do you trust us?” I asked.

Misery filled his eyes. “I do. Who knows why, but I really do. My father would tell me I just crave the camaraderie of a group like yours. He warned me not to make friends.”

I shared a look with Nova, then Fathers. “Let’s head back to the van. If your errand is important, we’ll work out a compromise. At the end of the day, it’s results that matter. Right?”

Cambridge seemed relieved. “Yes, that makes sense. Thanks.”

We traveled toward Kyn and Cissi where they leaned against the van sipping local coffee in tiny cups. I climbed inside and motioned for Cambridge to follow. Nova took charge of the perimeter by ordering Fathers and Kyn to key positions on a wide set of steps near the van. This allowed them to surveil the nearest glide way intersection. She remained with Cissi but focused on maintaining communications with the two agents.

I closed the door, then faced Cambridge. “We can talk for a while. Less chance of anyone eavesdropping. Nothing is a hundred percent, but without more information, I have nothing specific to guard against.”

“My father said you are thorough. His contemporaries argue with him, but he sees you through his infantryman eyes—which means he idolizes you like he does all Breakers.” Cambridge’s demeanor leveled off. He became cooler and more calculating as he brought his adrenaline under control. “I told him respect was one thing, but that he needed to recognize your limitations.”

“And those are?” I was curious to see how his mind, and that of his father, worked.

“You get too attached to your subordinates. They can’t be your friends,” he said, then pushed one palm forward in a calming gesture like he thought that would minimize any perceived insult. “You’re over-confident. I get it. Your team is good, but you know I’m right.”

I waited.

“You have a Glosser on your team.”

“Something wrong with that?”

Cambridge shifted, clearly resisting the urge to look at Kyn standing guard down the street. “Do you just trust anyone who wants to join your team, any sentient?”

“I don’t trust anyone, but neither do I condemn individuals without reason or evidence.” My opinion of this man and his father solidified. Cambridge sought to make his own way in the world. He idolized, feared, and resented his father all at the same time. “What is more important, completing your side quest, or completing your side quest without anyone knowing about it?”

“I told my father I would request your assistance if necessary. He made me swear to make sure it wasn’t.”

I interlocked my fingers, leaned forward to put my elbows on my knees, and searched his eyes. He was easy to read now. I cautioned myself that pride came before the fall. My experience didn’t make me better or worse than Cambridge Bayle—and neither did it render me rail-proof.

I could be wrong about the younger Bayle. Worse, I could be half wrong. Instinct failed me for the first time in recent memory. A cold, hard decision was necessary.

“We go where you go. That was the deal. The first time we’re stopped without the umbrella clause in your visa, we’ll be incarcerated or worse.” I played out the facts and realized the decision wasn’t difficult, despite my inability to feel the way it would go. “Further, you’ll get yourself killed without a support team.”

“You’re my support team?” He didn’t attempt to hide his incredulity. “That would mean I’m running the show.”

“Don’t get carried away.”

He snorted. “Right. No one can be the boss but the legendary Breaker 105. I’m not helpless. You have no idea the level of training I’ve been through. This isn’t my first mission. I’m not completely without experience.”

“One-man missions are stupid.” I hoped he didn’t ask my squad how many times I’d violated my own rule, but that was a different discussion. “You, me, or anyone would have serious problems on a world like Avian Prime without assistance. If nothing else, you need a ride because I’m not turning over my glide van to you.”

Silence.

A staring contest.

Beyond us, the city thrummed with vitality.

He exhaled, turned away, turned back, and then shook his head as he spoke. “Won’t be the first time I’ve disappointed the man. Let’s just get this over with.”

15

Red and blue lights flashed at the next intersection. Police cars blocked the streets in all four directions. Road cones diverted drivers into a single lane where random vehicles were inspected.

“What is this?” Cambridge asked.

I scanned the scene, checked for messages from Regina, and made eye contact with Nova before answering. “Checkpoint.”

Cambridge wasn’t mollified. “For what?”

“Could be anything.” I flipped through local news links on my wrist viewer courtesy of Regina’s lightning-fast research. “Traffic enforcement initiatives are often advertised well in advance. Nothing shows up during my ship AI’s search. This is something else.”

“They could be looking for a hit and run driver or other fugitive,” Nova said.

I dimmed my screen and focused on the here and now. Cissi seemed nearly as worried as Cambridge, but for her own reasons. What should have been a happy event in her life was turning into an odyssey of disappointment, delay, and danger.

Fathers, Nova, and Kyn were ready for anything, as usual. I could read just the right amount of tension in their expressions.

“Our vehicle has been chosen for inspection,” Kyn said, then spoke to the Avian police officer through the window. “What seems to be the problem, officer?”

“Traffic checkpoint. You are other-worlders. Paperwork.” He thrust forward one hand, palm up. Muscles rippled from shoulder to wrist, visible through the dark gray fabric. His chest and back were massive, thicker even by Avian standards. Black, gray, and red plumage decorated his slightly flared wings.

This man was different from others I’d met. His partner approached on the other side of the vehicle and was equally as imposing.

“We are traveling under the umbrella clause of this man’s work and travel visa,” Kyn said, unperturbed by the daunting presence of the officer.

Cambridge presented his single purpose view screen, the equivalent of paper in the days before humanity left the Milky Way. “These individuals are covered, sir.”

The officer accepted the screen, then stepped back to read it. Every few seconds, he glanced up to make sure we hadn’t done something shady or dangerous. His partner never took his eyes off us.

“Are all their police officers like this?” Nova asked. “Very impressive.”

The last part of her statement was for the cops, because they clearly heard her. Maybe that would keep them from dragging us out of the car and holding us at gunpoint until their backup arrived. A mood permeated the encounter. These checkpoint personnel were looking for dangerous people, probably off-worlders if their interest in us was a clue.

I wanted to ask Cambridge for anything he’d held back. Were there other players looking for the same thing he was, or worse, we were? If this became a race to secure Avian negotiators, it would probably get bloody.

The cop returned. “You are APOP agents, except for the girl and Mr. Cambridge?”

I presented my credentials. “Yes, sir.”

He examined my shield and took down my information, then went through the same process with Nova, Fathers, and Kyn.

“I’m surprised you are an agent with the human government,” the officer said.

“All sentient races are welcome in the Alliance of Planets, including mine and yours. Did Avian Prime leave the coalition?” Kyn asked.

The officer chose not to answer. “Step out of the car, starting with you.” He pointed at Kyn.

The Glosser complied, stopping where it would cause the officer to lose part of his tactical advantage.

The Avian police officer patted him down, despite losing sight of his partner and access to the van. A few moments later he pointed to the back of the glide van. “Go to the back of the vehicle. Sit on the curb.”

“Must I sit?”

“Yes.”

Kyn complied.

The officer called me out before allowing Kyn to arrive and demonstrate his actual full compliance—mistake number two. “You, Lieutenant Breaker of the APOP, step out. Submit to a pat down. Do it now.”

I complied. The process repeated until we were all sitting on the side of the glide way waiting for the two original cops, three backup officers, and their supervisor to make a decision about the insufficient travel visa.

We were one person heavy.

“I’m extra,” Fathers said. “Just promise to bond me out of jail before you leave the planet.”

Cambridge shook his head. “It doesn’t work that way. If the visa is violated, we all get hauled in and held for an embassy representative. That can take months.”

Kyn stood. “Allow me to handle this.”

“What’s on your mind, Agent?” I asked.

He looked sad as he answered. “I have a one-time diplomatic card I can play. Afterward there will be obligations I can no longer ignore, but that is my concern. When I am done, the count will again be correct because like Cissi, I will not tally against the number on the visa.”

“No choice,” Nova said.

I grumbled something both profane and unintelligible.

“You. Why do you stand, Glosser?” The Avian supervisor marched toward him, his wings flaring wide behind him. The sight was like a hawk or a falcon preparing to take wing.

Kyn showed his screen but didn’t surrender it. The Avian supervisor retreated and called someone. He paced up and down the shoulder of the glide way for several minutes.

“What did you do, Kyn?” I asked.

“I am working on a different kind of visa. My career in the APOP could not last forever. I fear this will accelerate my return home.” He smiled sardonically. “At the end of my term, I must face a council of elders on my home world. There is a very small chance they will allow me to return to my chosen career.”

“We’ll talk later.” I sensed this was a conversation that needed to be private. He seemed to appreciate the gesture. For the rest of the detention, I wondered about what we’d blundered into and what it had cost Kyn.

The Avian supervisor stood before us, arms crossed, chin lowered, eyes expressing infinite dissatisfaction. “You are not the off-worlders we are searching for, and your travel permits are sufficient. Leave now unless you wish to be cited for obstructing the glide way.”

“You heard the man.” I pointed to our van. “Load up, and let’s be about our business.”

Nova stopped on the way. “Excuse me, sir. Can I ask who you are looking for? As law enforcement professionals, I feel we are obligated to call you if we see them.”

“Five humans. Unknown ages. General descriptions. Do not attempt to apprehend them. Very dangerous.” The Avian police sergeant turned and went back to the intersection with his officers.

I motioned for her and the others to hurry up. “Let’s go.”

“That was both routine and strange at the same time,” Nova said. Her look said she was worried about Kyn and what it had cost him to maintain our freedom.

“Agreed. Until we know otherwise, let’s assume we have competition. The sooner we achieve our missions, the better.” I stared back at the intersection until it was far behind us.

“We’re getting close.” Cambridge pointed to an off-ramp.

“Yes. I see the way,” Kyn said.

We arrived in a neighborhood rougher than any I’d seen. Given my extensive knowledge of the Alliance of Planets worlds and their cities, that was really saying something. I wondered if the hard ass cops at the checkpoint ever made it this far into the poorer part of the metropolis.

“Jeez, boss,” Fathers said. “We should have brought Faulkner’s crew. This is a war zone by Avian standards.”

I surveyed my fellow passengers. Kyn drove according to all local laws, always alert, rarely distracted by the need to join conversation. In this mode, the Glosser was a preeminent listener. He had become even quieter than normal after the checkpoint.

Nova had her head on a swivel, always looking for trouble and a way to stop it from harming us. Once in a while, I saw her lips move. She was counting intersections, vehicles, and pedestrians. Next to her, Cambridge stared at the road like a condemned man.

What was bothering him now that the decision to work together had been made? I needed to find out. Kyn had proved our determination. What more could he ask for.

“We’re here,” Cambridge said.

I looked at Cissi.

“Don’t leave me in the van.” She was ready to run onto the glide way in search of escape. I knew it like I knew my left hand from my right. Experience had taught me hard lessons, one of which was that people feared abandonment in strange places and would do crazy things to stay with the group—like follow on their own and cause no end of trouble.

Cambridge didn’t pick up on the frenetic gleam in her eyes.

“This won’t be dangerous,” he promised. “I was coming alone, remember.”

“Details.” I listened but also watched the young woman in my peripheral vision.

“Simple business transaction. In, out, then we can go wherever you need.”

I thought Cambridge was sincere. He had been promised safety. Both he and his father trusted the source of the assurances. As a cop, I was cautious—doubting everyone’s motives. As a Breaker… I always rolled into a fight with as much firepower as possible. The trick was evaluating every known variable and making the right decision. Leave the civilian noncombatant or provide for her safety if things got rough.

That wouldn’t be easy. She shouldn’t be here at all. The reason we’d brought her from Earthdale was to use her need for transportation as justification for our own presence here. That fell through, and I had dragged her along out of misplaced obligation and a soft spot for a young woman who had been wronged. Would a sane man compound his mistake?

What was sane anyway? “Cissi stays close to Fathers.”

The big man didn’t hesitate “Copy that, boss. Babysitting is my dream job. Stick with me, kid.”

“Do you believe that I am a child?” Cissi asked.

“Well, uh. No. Of course not.”

“Are you being sarcastic? I’m a real person, Agent Fathers. I have feelings.”

“Uh, well. Of course. I just meant…”

Her hard expression flirted with a smile, but he didn’t see it.

I watched Fathers struggle and suppressed a laugh. It was tempting to pile on the jokes, but another part of me warned it was time to become laser focused on our objective. “I’ll stay with Cambridge. Nova has active control of the crew while I’m focused on him.”

Everyone acknowledged the order.

“Cissi,” I said.

She looked at me with wide, innocent eyes.

“Give Fathers a break.”

She smiled broadly. “I’m sorry. He is easy to tease, and I’m very nervous.”

Fathers’s face reddened, but he put forward one fist, bumped hers, and growled. “Got me good, kid.”

She raised one eyebrow dramatically.

“Not a kid. Right. I’ll try to remember.”

“Thank you, Agent Fathers. I won’t be any bother at all.”

Everyone on the team groaned and hoped we hadn’t just been jinxed by the young Avian.

Cambridge, Nova, Kyn, Fathers, Cissi, and I entered the one building on the block that wasn’t run down. By contrast, this place was a palace. Sheets of glass ran from the street level to the third story. Polished steel beams gave the place a look of strength. City lights reflected from every surface. Uniformed guards stood at the front door. Others patrolled the lobby and the plaza outside. The structure dominated the area and loomed high above us.

No one challenged us.

“Are the guards just here for show?” I asked.

“That is what I was told.” Cambridge remained tense and watchful.

I had no problem with that. At least he was taking this seriously. Simple missions went wrong when operators embraced complacency. A glance at my crew reassured me further. There wasn’t much Nova, Fathers, and Kyn couldn’t handle, even with Cissi in tow.

The huge front doors slid slowly open as we approached. The effect was dramatic. Everything about this place had been designed to inspire awe in visitors, or intimidate them.

“This building takes up the entire block, and then some. Looks like a multi star system bank.” I asked.

Cambridge didn’t break stride. “For certain people, it is. Lord Digesh Havna owns the place. Rumor has it he financed at least one terraforming expedition to the edge worlds. Pompous and truly powerful, he goes by Havna or Lord Havna. The best I can tell with my excellent command of three Avian dialects is that Digesh isn’t really a name, but a fond honorific, a pet name his grandmother gave him.”

“Good to know.”

He paused. “We must decide. Escalator or elevator?”

I counted the guards at each of these conveyances and studied the pedestrians. “Everyone on the escalators looks like visitors—possibly for business. The elevator seems to be for employees.”

“Neither will place us in high regard.” Cambridge frowned, clearly bothered by either option. “My father warned me not to arrive as a petitioner.”

“Has he been here?”

“No.”

I pushed. “Has he ever spoken with this very important contact face-to-face?”

“Again, he has not. They maintain a limited correspondence through triple-encrypted laser comms.”

I circled a finger for Nova. She took the rest of the team to a waiting area off to one side and directed them to act casual. Before long, they were thumbing through view screens and paper publications, then examining the plants in the foyer.

“Tell me everything you can.” I crossed my arms, stood close, and lowered my voice. “This is just between you and me. I won’t even share it with my team unless it directly affects them.”

Cambridge stalled. He made a show of subtly checking the guards, the room, and the position of my team. The man was trying to impress me as a smooth operator—someone who was alert to his surroundings and on the lookout for clues but sophisticated enough not to broadcast what he was doing to the world.

I waited. Silence could squeeze like a vice. Most people started talking to relieve the pressure. Cambridge was no exception.

“I have a five million digit-note token to purchase information,” he finally said.

That wasn’t much in the realm of high espionage, but I kept listening.

“The real transaction will come later, after we’ve agreed to terms and vetted the deal through proper channels. Right now, it is a private inquiry, but the technology could affect public interests.”

“You’re playing with fire, Bayle.”

“That has always been what my family does. Don’t worry. This is the meeting before the meeting. As soon as we’re done, we can transport Cissi to her family and see if she has any interest in her suitor. That will take even less time than this. I’ll hang back and let you do your mysterious double Avian interviews or whatever.”

Time distorted as I analyzed his conversation and scoured my environment for clues. What he said, combined with the tower of steel and glass in the middle of an impoverished neighborhood, warned of a many-layered situation. He was underestimating both his contact—adversary I thought—and the value of what his father sent him here to barter for. Information was power. Even the ancients had known this.

But there was more happening. Lord Digesh Havna clearly had the resources to turn information into action, and that was always dangerous.

“Nova.” I used my right ear mic.

“Go,” she said.

“What do you make of these guards?”

“Mostly for show. Perfect uniforms. New, state of the art rail weapons plus less lethal thumpers and old school handcuffs—actually made of metal, looks like. But what bothers me are the similarities between the cops we saw. Massive brutes. It’s like they are a whole different class of local sentients. Why haven’t we seen anything like them before now?”

“There were rumors during the misunderstanding,” I said, not wanting to go back in time. “No one ever saw their elite warrior class.”

“Well, either this is them or Avian Prime became a bodybuilder Mecca since then.”

“Thanks, Nova.” I returned my attention to Cambridge, who had been paying attention.

“My father told me to expect top notch security, both in their technology and their personnel.”

“Good to know. Hopefully their beach muscles interfere with their ability to shoot, and/or run.” I watched one of the guards flare his wings as he told a joke to one of his friends. The martial bravado in their laughter was easy to recognize.

A bad feeling grew in my core. My spine tingled and my heart beat a bit faster. I was ready to fight.

“We can’t stay here much longer,” Cambridge said.

I nodded and signaled Nova. “Let’s go. Stay sharp. Heads on swivels. Be ready to fall back to the van at my signal.”

Nova acknowledged by comm signal, hand gesture, and verbal response. “Copy that.”

Fathers and Kyn sent up their response on the squad comm in my left ear.

We moved toward the escalator. “The elevators look like boxes. Not interested in getting stuck on one, and I think it will make us appear as employees or servants in front of your contact.”

“Of course. Those were my thoughts,” Cambridge said.

I doubted he had articulated any of it in his head. The man was smart, well-trained, and serious. Unfortunately, a live operation placed a unique brand of stress on inexperienced agents. All the training in the galaxy could go right out the airlock—and he wasn’t even an agent.

We moved up the escalator and were contacted by a security team who separated us from other visitors, held us for a few minutes, and sent us through a set of double doors without a word.

“How is your day going?” I doubted they would break character.

“That good?” Nova added when they didn’t respond. “I remember my first time guarding an escalator.”

Fathers suppressed a laugh.

The Avians glared at us like it was their job. Every security guard on this floor towered above both me and Fathers. The color of their wings matched the police officers at the traffic checkpoint. I suspected there was serious overlap between Havna’s private force and the local police. In fact, I wondered if it wasn’t the same entity.

The guards looked straight through us. Doors opened in response to an unseen controller. The brutes stepped aside, and we entered a wide, spiral stairway leading to what had to be the very top of this building—ten floors at least.

“Nice lighting,” Nova said.

I took the lead without asking Cambridge. Nova assigned Kyn to rear guard and admonished Fathers to remember his assignment. Cissi stayed close to the former shock trooper and seemed content to take everything in.

She appeared both young and sophisticated. I wondered what was running through her head. This was the home world she hadn’t been allowed to visit since she was a small child. How did the contrast between extreme poverty and unattainable wealth jive with her expectations?

My legs burned as my eyes adjusted to the floor and ceiling lights that outlined the spiral upward. At the very top there was a skylight full of stars and pastel neon. I wasn’t sure but thought an airship was crossing the upper atmosphere.

“Are we nearly there?” Cambridge asked.

I continued up the final steps and stopped on a landing before yet another set of huge double doors. Out of habit, I scanned the area and located doors to emergency stairways or something similar. By now I’d decided it was best not to make assumptions with Avian architecture.

“We’re here. Were you expecting a welcoming party?”

Cambridge didn’t have an answer.

I moved forward even though Bayle should have taken the lead at this point. He was in over his head, and we all knew it. Hiking stairs brought clarity. The immense building sprawled like its halls would continue forever. Everything was oversized and ornate like it had been built for gods.

“Cambridge, walk with me. Nova and everyone else, keep your options open but hang back a few strides.” I waited until he was at my side and ready to face Lord Havna.

The doors slid upward as we came close. Primal warnings heightened my caution further. The inexplicably aggressive way the portal now loomed above us unnerved me. Cambridge didn’t seem affected.

We strode onto a bridge, then arrived on a platform dominated by Havna and his entourage. Guards in full battle armor flanked the group. Their wings flared in unison, then settled tight to their backs. The movement reminded me of a boxer taking a fighting stance.

Surrounding the intricately tiled floor was a drop not just to the first floor of the building, but to a very dark basement. Heights held no terror for me after fighting in the endless void. Saint claimed gravity made all the difference when facing a precipice. Were he here, the man would put his toes to the edge of something like this and tremble head to toe as he threw back his hair and laughed.

I held onto the bittersweet image of my tortured, thrill-addicted friend. He was on my mind of late, more so than Kalchev or Boomer or even Katrina Snow, my combat technician.

Cambridge cleared his throat, something I had never heard him do. Nova and the others took positions two strides from me. I couldn’t see how they reacted to the sight of the warriors or the abyss surrounding the meeting place.

Warm air drifted toward the skylights. Dust motes swirled in the updraft. Silence uncommon to this planet gripped every aspect of the scene. There was no music in Lord Havna’s chamber.

A pair of Avians wearing metal collars chained to the floor caught my attention. Their wings were bound as though to prevent them from flying, despite the fact Avians couldn’t actually take flight.

Cambridge flushed when he spotted them. I concealed my emotions and counted on my team to do the same.

Cissi gasped.

“What is this?” said the man standing on the center dais. He seemed to be Lord Havna, though no one had introduced him. “I wasn’t expecting such a wonder.”

Cambridge stepped forward, ignored the reference to Cissi, and finally made a move to control the conversation. “I am Cambridge Bayle, and I have an appointment to discuss technology. My companions are incidental and irrelevant.”

“Then you should have left them behind.” Havna’s voice resonated through the large space.

“You brought your people. I brought mine,” Cambridge said with surprising conviction. He wasn’t a chump, only inexperienced. “None of this matters. Shall we conclude our transaction. I have brought a certificate for five million digi-notes and rights of exploration to three unsettled worlds of your choice.”

“Good. Excellent. That was the agreed upon price.” Hostility filled Havna’s pause despite his words. “But I agreed to transact with Bayle.”

“I am Bayle.”

“You are not Jonas Bayle.” Havna stood, pushed out his chest, and flared his wings as he looked down on us. The effect was so much more than if a human performed the gesture. Like all Avians, his upper body was heavily muscled. There was something extra impressive about his wings, a sheen to them that made the colors more vibrant. “Fortunately, all you must do is pay for my inconvenience.”

“Seriously?” Nova muttered.

Lord Havna eyed her for a time, then refocused his ire on Cambridge.

Cissi flourished her delicate wings. “Lord Havna, this is most ungenerous of you. I heard tales of the noble nature of Avian Prime’s leaders. Am I to be disappointed?”

Havna sneered, then laughed. “A spirited young woman speaks. I wouldn’t have imagined someone raised on another planet would have the courage to open her mouth.”

“I’m just getting started,” Cissi said.

I instantly loved the kid, just like I knew Nova and Fathers did. Kyn was harder to read, but he would have shown equal eloquence as the young woman.

“Are you? I will remember that when the humans and the Glosser are gone and you remain among your own kind. Someone must teach you how to act.” Havna turned his back on everyone, pretending to examine his fingernails as though our visit was the least important thing in the word.

“I didn’t come all this way to see a deal fall through,” Cambridge said. “What is your price?”

“An increase of twenty-five percent will suffice.”

“No problem. I will pay the agreed upon amount now, and the rest when I return to my ship. Our transfer rating is the best in the galaxy.” Cambridge behaved as though this was in his area of expertise, like high-dollar business deals came with morning coffee. “Good business is the same everywhere. The Bayle family is not above paying for quality goods and verifiable information.”

“You must pay now.”

“Well shit.” Nova’s words were barely audible in my ear bud this time.

This was going sideways, and we hadn’t begun our own mission. The chained pair of Avians could be candidates, and we needed to help them anyway. There were legal ways, and there were… adventurous ways. I wasn’t sure either would work.

Unless they had asked to be bolted to the floor, the pair were slaves and must be liberated and taken to a safe haven while the case was presented in court. Havna wasn’t going to like me when this day was over.

I checked the guards and their weapons. Nothing about this situation was ideal. It might not be survivable. That didn’t provide an excuse to back away now; rather, it demanded a tactical adjustment.

Maybe a viable option would fall out of the sky and hit me on the head. More likely, this was going to get ugly. Odds were against us, for sure.

Added to my own legal and moral dilemmas, Cambridge’s deal was going south as though Havna had never planned to fulfill his part of the bargain.

I desperately needed to know what information Jonas Bayle had sent his son to collect. He had claimed he needed to contact a financier in hiding. There hadn’t been any talk of secret technology.

One thing was certain. Jonas Bayle had held back information. The technology was worth millions of digi-note, land rights, and risking his son’s life. I needed to learn the truth of this fandango sooner rather than later.

16

“Of course,” Cambridge bluffed. “Remind me again why it’s worth it. In fact, I’m not sure why I even came if this is how we’re going to be treated.”

I had to smile. That was unexpected. Havna went still as a stone for a heartbeat, his stunned expression worthy of photographic capture. If I’d been running my Breaker rig, there definitely would have been images and video recorded for posterity.

Havna recovered. A growl escaped his tightly held lips. His words sounded like an unseen force had driven them up from his core, barely carrying the sounds into the open. “Perhaps I will use the technology myself. Perhaps I will flash across the galaxy to slap your father in his short face.”

Cambridge reddened.

“That insult doesn’t even make sense.” I knew Jonas Bayle was insecure about his height. Silly as it was, that small, unchangeable factor of his genetics bothered both father and son. “And you’re just being mean.”

“Who in the darkest hell of the void are you?”

“I’m Breaker 105, haven’t you heard?”

“Here we go,” Nova muttered behind me.

Havna lasered me with his narrowing gaze, then, unexpectedly, turned his attention to Cissi. He smiled, and I really didn’t like it.

“The girl doesn’t belong with you. Since I am generous and benevolent, I will forget all these insults. Your amateurish, short-sighted negotiations will be given a one-time pass.”

“More short jokes?” Nova, who was average height, said. “Liking this guy less all the time.”

Havna plowed ahead. “So many things I will make right. The unwanted girl will be fostered in my respectable household until she learns the old ways of our people. In time, it may be forgotten that she lived for so long away from the roost.”

My heart pounded and my hands tingled for a fight. Control never came easy when an injustice was done, and I could feel a big one crashing down on us like a meteor.

“I will not,” Cissi said. “You have no right.”

“Says the outworld child. Perhaps you can fly? That would change everything, wouldn’t it.”

“Our people can’t fly.” Cissi’s voice sounded smaller with each word.

“Are you certain? There are theories I would see tested, starting with you.”

“We are here for business,” Cambridge interrupted, his voice stronger than ever. “I’ll have no more vagaries from you, Lord Havna, nor will I tolerate insults and threats. Deliver what was promised or we’re leaving.”

Havna leaned forward as though speaking to a child. “Payment first.”

“When I return to my ship.” Cambridge lowered his voice, adding intensity to his statement. “And not a moment sooner.”

A dozen of Havna’s soldiers rushed onto the platform from the other side. These had been mostly hidden by the dark, inconsistent lighting of the place. Others arrived from the direction we’d come. Worst of all, I felt like we were being watched from above—and that meant there were eyes on the exterior of the building, gazing down on us from the edges of the skylight. Drones were a possibility, but something told me it was more of these winged warriors and they were prepared to test Havna’s theories about Avian flight potential.

“Too much armor,” Nova whispered on the squad channel. “We can’t fight this many.”

“I’m game.” Fathers sounded dangerous.

I knew without looking his stance had shifted and his fists were tight as hammers and twice as dangerous.

Kyn adjusted his position to threaten Havna’s flank, which inspired my most dangerous smile. My team fought to win, no matter the odds.

Cissi was a problem. She had no business being here and no weapons. Maybe she was a secret master of the martial arts, but I doubted it and didn’t think it would tip the scales in our favor if she was.

For about one second, I wondered if the Soft Touch could help us through the skylight but discarded the thought immediately.

“The girl stays with me, as does my very expensive information about the future of this galaxy,” Havna said. “Captain Yalan, show each of them a private cell. No more talking. Disrupt their comms if they are using those annoying APOP earpieces.”

I stepped to a perfect right angle with Kyn, and straight ahead of Nova to screen her movements—if she made any—from Lord Havna and Captain Yalan. At the same time, I pulled my rail and leveled it on our poor-mannered host. “That really doesn’t work for me, champ.”

“Champ? What is this insulting profanity you call me?”

“Havna, Havna, Havna.” I stalled. “We can’t do this. You and I know how wrong this is and what will happen if shots are fired.”

“Of course.” Havna’s blood-chilling smile stretched wide across his Avian face. “Do you know what an EMP is?”

I cursed as a sound pierced my ears. Comms died with a digital whimper. My rail gun gave no sign of malfunctioning. When I fired at the trio of Avian soldiers rushing me, it did exactly nothing. I holstered fast and moved.

Knowing how Avians fought, I twisted sideways from the hands of the two soldiers as they advanced. The third attempted to sneak up behind me. I converted the twisting movement into a back fist, catching him square on the side of his neck. Like humans, his spinal cord was the key to his nervous system. The strike bumped a pair of vertebrae out of place, not enough to cause lasting damage, but more than enough to disrupt signals traveling to and from the brain.

Just for half a second.

The soldier fell to the floor, stunned.

I hopped over his body, placing his tangled form between me and my pursuers.

Elsewhere on the platform, Fathers roared a battle cry, Nova attacked in a flurry of moves too quick for the eye to follow, and Kyn revealed his colorful under layer and extra arms as he went into battle.

I’d seen it once when he sprang into action to stop a pregnant Glosser from ingesting G-5, and I dared not watch him for long. Suddenly he possessed the mane of a blue and sea green lion. All four of his arms attacked and defended as he switched stances, advanced and retreated, and at one point, rolled clear of his Avian abductors.

Two, three, and finally four guards piled on top of me, forcing me to the ground with their weight. I twisted onto my side and formed my arms into a frame to resist the crushing pressure. That was ground fighting survival 101. In this position, my lungs were in less danger of being crushed. It had been a long time since a grappling opponent dominated me to the point my only strategy was to protect my ability to breathe. The weight of four large Avians couldn’t be endured for long.

I pushed my butt outside of the pile, hoping I could wiggle free of them, squeeze out to one side, and take one of their backs. Even if I did, the other three would adjust, and we would start over. The thought of choking the daylights out of one was just too appealing not to at least try.

Four on one?

Bring it, you void-eating jerks.

All I saw was red. Judgement went out the window. Restraint and civility had no place in a fight for survival. Blocked from my escape attempt by something I couldn’t see, I kicked out hard, crushing bones—probably a knee from the way one of my opponents suddenly screamed and rolled away from the pile.

Three were still too many, and before long, I was in serious trouble.

APOP rail weapons had been improved to resist electromagnetic pulse technology. Apparently, someone had been upgrading their countermeasures. Everyone knew this would happen, I only wished I hadn’t been the first to field test their trick. Every weapon and comm system had a shielded backup. Did they work? How long did they take to cycle? I had no idea.

Strength retreated from my arms, legs, and core. Labored breathing made it hard to think. I hated being suffocated, and I had significant near-death experiences to draw from. This wasn’t as bad as being crushed by a closing blast door—not as bad as feeling your Breaker rig give out and hoping your squad mates or your combat tech was coming to save your sorry butt—but it was pretty close. Framing my arms and twisting onto my side to stay off my back wasn’t enough. Time was up for this Breaker.

I regretted fighting Avians. Before the misunderstanding, I’d befriended every one of them I’d met. For a time, I had believed I would retire to Avian Prime and learn everything I could about their art, culture, and beautifully generous people.

Then it went wrong—and here I was again doing the same thing that had ended in a short, violent war. I hadn’t started the great misunderstanding, but I had finished it. Rage boiled inside. This wasn’t right.

All three of my opponents abandoned their attempts to subdue me. I saw Kyn punching Havna in the face and every Avian soldier rushing to kill him. Gasping for breath, I struggled to my feet and staggered forward. Nova, Fathers, and even Cambridge ran to help Kyn but it was clear he’d be overwhelmed in seconds.

I grabbed my rail from the holster and rushed forward to use it as a club.

Cissi darted between the guards, Kyn, and Havna. She emerged with something in her hands. I stared, puzzling out what she had stolen.

Then, I started to laugh.

“APOP, weapons up!”

Cissi pressed the button on the device that had been hanging from Lord Havna’s lanyard.

Power surged into my rail.

“Lord Havna!” I shouted. “Call off your guards.” I aimed at his face. “You wanna know the last time I missed a shot at this range?”

He hesitated.

Nova sprang into action by grabbing Kyn and hauling him backward out of the fray. Fathers took hold of Cissi, then pushed Cambridge toward the exit.

Before the Avian lord could react, we were in full flight. Soldiers rushed up the stairs, cutting off our escape. We veered into a hallway that led in a large ring around the artificial chasm in the center of the building. Utility stairs led down to other levels. Doors led to other doors. Soon we were lost and on the run, not at all where I wanted this mission to go.

We had failed to get Cambridge’s information. There were still a pair of Avian slaves chained to the floor, though I thought guards had been dragging them out of the room early in the fight. Who knew where they were now or how to rescue them.

They were at least as important as the mysterious technology Cambridge had come for. What was the chance that everyone needed a pair of Avians to speak with the Ultar and this powerful local lord had this specific pair held captive? Conviction flooded through my thoughts. We needed to rescue them, and not just because it was the right thing to do. The chained couple were the negotiators we needed to save the galaxy from war.

Too bad I hadn’t realized that earlier.

How would the knowledge have helped?

I had no idea, but it was something. Maybe I could have been nicer to Lord Havna. That always worked.

Nova led the way. She shouted over her shoulder. “These rooms are prisoner cells.”

I focused on right now. “This place is a maze.”

“Good for preventing escape attempts,” Nova agreed.

“Fathers, find the keys. Let’s spread a little freedom.” I peeked into rooms we passed. Most were Avian. None were paired up. Some were human, Glosser, and even Razik. “Havna is now my least favorite person on this planet.”

“Understatement of the year,” Nova said.

Fathers emerged from a guard room and joined the conversation. The guy had good ears and sound carried in the confined space. “Havna is the Benedict of this world, but with more style.”

“No comment.” I took one of the keys and hurried down one side opening doors. “Everyone out. You’re free.”

Nova took hold of my arm, stopping me before I cracked open the third cell on my side. “If these people are lawfully detained, there will be repercussions in the AP. Interfering with their jurisprudence is a treaty violation.”

“Yeah, but isn’t this fun?”

She laughed a bit crazily. “I’m so glad you’re in charge and on the hook for this.”

“Happy to be of service.” I opened another cell and sent two Avians scrambling toward freedom—assuming they could find their way out of the confusing hallways, stairs, and bridges. The floor plan should be easy to understand since a large shaft occupied most of the center of the building. In reality, I had lost all sense of direction or elevation and doubted these poor wretches would do much better.

So why free them when they were likely to be caught?

I didn’t have time to feel guilty for my ulterior motives. Maybe the released prisoners would slow down Havna’s soldiers so I could escape with my friends. It was equally likely that we would provide the same service for the scrawny, abused men and women now making a run for it. The more I thought about it, the better chances I thought they had compared to my team.

I cracked open another cell as Nova, Cambridge, and Kyn covered the hallway. We were moving fast, not bothering to search the cells where no one came out. From inside came a sound, a voice, a word I hadn’t heard for a long time.”

“Benj?”

I pressed into the shadows, all of my senses on high alert. “Saint?”

“Gods, that is you. Don’t look at me, brother. I’m a mess.”

He wasn’t lying. As the tallest of my three Breaker friends, he had always been a bit of a scarecrow even when jacked with muscle. My friend had been deceptively strong, with long limbs, ropey muscles, and core strength no one could match.

Now he was a skeleton with just enough flesh to display bruises and wounds inexpertly stitched shut. I suspected he had performed minor surgery on himself with whatever first aid supplies he’d been allowed.

His already thinning hair was falling out. Gaps showed through his teeth and his upper lip exposed his bite where it had been busted open too many times.

Worst of all were obvious signs of withdrawal. Hunger for his vices blazed in his eyes. The man was dying, and I could see what he wanted most were drugs.

His grin twisted mischievously. Both eyes locked on mine, though one had to peer through flesh that had swollen the opening to a slit. “You looked, Breaker. How rude. Now you owe me.”

I picked him up and put one shoulder under his arm. “You stink but that’s not really a new thing.”

Henry Saint, Breaker 107, laughed painfully. “You always know what to say, brother.”

“What are you doing here?”

He huffed and grunted against the pain of being forced to walk, and for several moments, it seemed he wouldn’t answer. When he finally spoke, the words could have been a plea from the grave. “They almost had the Ultar discs. I did everything I could to stop it but got tripped up in some G-5 and micro. Someone got the artifacts away from the station. Maybe that was you, eh.”

I listened. This wasn’t the time to reveal what I had or hadn’t done.

“I came here to warn the twins—or kill them if they seemed ready to lie to the Ultar.”

“Lie about what?”

“The discs show the way to nearly instant transit jumps—perfect navigation along the gravity waves and radiation tunnels of this galaxy. But it comes at a cost. The only way to make it work is to burn Ultar like fuel.”

“I don’t understand.”

He swayed. His eyes rolled around unfocused until he mastered himself. “It’s bad. Especially for Ultar navigators. Gotta take one for the team.” He laughed crazily until pain cut off the sound.

“No Ultar will submit to that.” I sorted the information, flagging details to make sense of when there was less need for running.

Saint hissed like a banshee losing its voice. “You and your SCD agents should know where they’ll find the fuel.”

I said nothing as my head buzzed and I carried him after Nova, Fathers, and Cissi who were in the lead now.

“Ultar slaves don’t get to choose how they die. Teach them the formulas. Promise them freedom if they can map a course. Then watch their brains melt from the strain. That’s what they do. What they will do. No one can stop it.”

“Tell me more when we’re safe and I have smarter people to make sense of your babble.”

He wheezed in pain for several steps. “Humans don’t have the synaptic complexity to work the math. I tried it with micro. Almost thought it was working, but I’m weak, brother. Scared of dying. Afraid of the insanity that comes to every sentient who tries.”

“We have transit technology,” I said, barely considering my words as the bulk of my attention went toward escape. “That’s enough. No one believes in science fiction like what you’re describing.”

“Someone will want to travel between star systems a hundred times faster than the best transit drive.” He slumped, dragged his feet, and nearly quit all together. “Especially when our method fails completely.”

I dragged him along.

“Maybe we would be better off stranded, unable to visit new stars.” His rambling thoughts continued down improbable logic trails. I focused on keeping him moving.

Nova and Cambridge argued about which way to go. I let them. It wasn’t that Saint’s weight bothered me, it was his lack of weight. He felt like a dead man rasping his last words—no heavier than skin and bones.

“Do you know what is even scarier?” Saint asked right when I thought he’d lost the ability to talk.

“Tell me.”

“It could work without killing the navigators. I know it could.”

“Great. Problem solved.”

“You’re such a jerk. I’m serious.”

“Then why don’t you sound happy?” I already knew the direction of his thoughts but wanted to hear him say it.

“We’re not ready for the keys to the galaxy.”

“No, we’re not.” I handed him off to Fathers, partly to relieve the cramp in my shoulders and back, but also to avoid further revelations from my broken-down, drug-addicted old friend.

17

I held up one fist and listened to distant footfalls. A score of soldiers were running, but not in our direction. Unfortunately, I’d learned this didn’t mean we were in the clear. Sooner or later, every hallway in this maze led to us.

Because the galaxy hated my team right now.

Kyn cradled one of his arms with two others. Pain showed on his normally unreadable face. Nova had the glassy eyes of someone suffering a flash-bang deflagration near her head. Fathers was exhausted from carrying Saint.

“Are we going to make it?” Cissi asked.

“Absolutely.”

She laughed at my deliberately over-confident tone. “Well, that’s good. I was getting worried. For a second, I thought we were lost or something.”

A ripple of grim amusement went through the team and grew to unreasonable laughter for several seconds. This brought everyone back to normal, except for Fathers. Gravity wasn’t affected by tricks of the mind. He hefted Saint higher on his shoulder and concealed his discomfort.

“I’ll take him.”

Cambridge watched me with the analytical eyes of a businessman. “Why did we tell the others to run but carry this one?”

I didn’t answer.

Saint groaned as we made the transfer, then freed himself from our grips. “I can walk. What’s everyone laughing about? Do you have G-5?”

Cambridge snorted in disgust. Cissi looked worried. Nova’s expression went as hard as a drill sergeant, and Fathers grumbled under his breath.

“Good morning, sleepy head. Feel better?” I asked, standing him up straighter and looking him over. There was only so much to see of a body draped over someone’s shoulder.

Saint rubbed his face and looked us over. His gaze settled on Kyn. “You’ve got a little bit of blue out of place there, buddy.”

I faced the Glosser and realized my old friend was right. Kyn hadn’t put himself back together. In combat, his underlayer of blue and silver hair showed, sometimes dramatically. He wasn’t supposed to reveal his colors around humans. I hadn’t known that when we met, but there were strict rules about how they behaved when leaving their home worlds to tour the habitations of other sentients.

Kyn’s head dipped in embarrassment.

“I like it,” Saint said with that winning smile, despite the damage time and bad decisions had done to his teeth. “Don’t change on our account. I mean, hell, look at me. Freaking disaster.”

Another round of mirth rippled through the group, though it was more reserved this time.

I brushed Saint off. “You look like you can walk.” I circled one finger in a rally-up movement. “Let’s go. We’re not in friendly territory. Nova, on point. Fathers, rear guard. Cambridge, you keep an eye on Kyn and Cissi.”

“I am not injured,” Cissi said. “Give me a job.”

“Like what?”

She shifted nervously, and her eyes went from me to the others and back. “I think I can find a way out. The floor plan of this place makes sense to me. Does it to you?”

“Stay close to Nova. Let her go first. She’s in charge. Can you do that?”

Cissi nodded and hurried forward. Nova led the way into a new hallway without a word.

I returned my attention to Saint. “You don’t happen to have a map of the place.”

“Please, Breaker. When did I go into a mission prepared.”

“Never. You’re worse than Boomer or Kalchev.”

Saint’s face darkened.

“Chev was trying to get you out of Benedict’s dope scene.” My statement was a test. The Perseus Station Police lieutenant had claimed he was working with Saint and that the plan was infiltration, not drugs and cage fights. Local criminals had accused Kalchev of being dirty, to which he replied that he’d done everything in an attempt to find and secure Saint.

I thought Kalchev had been lying but wasn’t sure what about. How deep had he been into the Ultar problem? What was he holding back?

Saint’s face went pale, seemingly at random. Sweat broke out on his forehead. “I really could use something. Anything. G-5. Micro. Over-the-counter pain meds. Hell, just hand me a cracker and tell me it’s loaded with dope and I’ll try to believe it.”

I wanted to tell him we would find him help, drug treatment, counseling, and a big kick in the ass.

He never responded to my prompt. It hadn’t been a question, but I’d thought he would respond with an answer—like if he cursed our mutual friend as responsible for his descent into the bowels of Perseus Station.

I would try again later. This wasn’t about Saint right now.

“Please, brother,” Saint hissed. “I need something to push back the darkness.”

Words wouldn’t come. I shouldn’t be so disappointed in my old friend. I’d seen him literally risk his life to save a kitten. He’d come back with the animal cradled in one arm and kept the bullet wound in the other arm concealed as he returned the little hellion to a cluster of joyous children. Saint was a good man, if not an actual saint. He tried. He lived big and loved bigger. But he was also flawed, impulsive, and raw.

“How about coffee when we reach the ship?”

He nodded and pushed himself to keep up. “Can’t wait. Yay. Coffee.” Eyes forward, he watched Nova at the next intersection. Despite everything he’d been through, the man was still a tactical operator at heart. He appreciated her expertise.

“I don’t understand what you said about the Ultar sacrificing themselves to perform faster-than-light travel calculations.”

He shuffled forward, obviously thinking hard. “I get confused. Sometimes it’s like they’re running all the time. You know me, always talking nonsense.”

“Don’t give me that. I’ll punch you right in your—”

He flinched away from my fist. “Watch it. So aggressive. Don’t—hey!”

I pulled back from a miss and readied myself to knock out the rest of his teeth.

“All right! I was doing you a favor. You don’t want to be involved in this stuff.”

“I am involved.”

He shook his head. “Good old Breaker 105, always solving the galaxy’s problems. If I’m being honest—and apparently, I have to if I want to avoid physical violence—I’ve been waiting for you to show up and take over. I suck at this stuff.”

I didn’t argue. My friend had always been good at stirring up trouble for the rest of us to deal with.

“There was an Ultar legend. I heard the Razik version, of course. No one talks to Ultar.”

“You had a conversation with Raziks? Really? I thought you were going to be serious.”

He shook his head as he leaned toward me like he always did. The mannerism was familiar enough to break my heart just a little. “No, man. I did. Raziks have crazy stories. And they’re funny—freaking hilarious. You’d like them. Sure, they only care about fighting and grunting, but they talk, just not to other sentients very often.”

“Ah, that makes sense. You’re not exactly sentient most times.”

He barked a laugh that drew looks from the rest of the team. “Ha! You’re a regular joker. Do you want the rest of this story? Thought so. They’ve got this version of the Ultar legend that says ten thousand years ago there was a terrible threat to the Ultar system. A sacred legion of their best warriors and scientists worked together to do the one thing they needed to defend their planets, travel almost instantaneously from one battlefield to the other. Before long, despite being outnumbered and outgunned, they destroyed their foe entirely, but at a cost.”

“This elite legion sacrificed itself,” I finished, guessing at the punchline.

“One by one,” Saint agreed. “Each time they needed to make a power move, one of them went into a chamber with two discs, made calculations, and activated the star drive. That wasn’t their word for it, of course. The Raziks called it the big flashy travel thing in their grunt-speech.”

“You listened to this and instantly believed it?” I asked. Henry Saint was almost legendary for his optimism and vulnerability to conspiracy theories, scams, and fantastical stories. This felt different, but I had to check.

The mischievous twinkle that normally shone even in this wasted version of himself dimmed noticeably. “I went there, into the Ultar system. That’s where things started to go wrong for me. Don’t ever go as far as I did. You won’t like it… and I love you, man. Gotta keep you and all the others, even freaking Chev, safe from the bad Ultar. No one should have FTL like this.” Saint trembled. His shoulders bowed further. He folded in on himself from stress and misery and shuffled to a stop.

“Nova,” I called via comms. “We need a break.”

She stopped the team immediately. “Send Cambridge up here. Cissi has a question for him about these corridors.”

I watched Saint and listened to his wandering narrative. It wasn’t long before he made even less sense. For a moment, we’d been making progress. If not for my dealings with Ocantus and Glaynia that lended plausibility to his theories, I would have shut him down a long time ago. Talking weakened him. Fathers and I were tired of carrying him.

That wasn’t my only worry.

We’d come here to find a pair of Avians and then were forced to leave the most likely candidates behind. They needed help. I wasn’t in a position to give it, but when had that stopped me or my team before? Running away felt wrong.

Nova called me forward. I left Saint telling jokes to Fathers, who seemed to laugh against his will. The APOP agent didn’t want to like the busted Breaker, but he did. Everyone loved Henry Saint—which was why it hurt so much when he ruined himself.

“Tell me what you have, Sergeant.”

She pointed at Cissi and then Cambridge. “They both think this next elevator is a way out. I questioned them separately.”

“I studied plans of similar structures in preparation for this meeting,” Cambridge said.

Cissi’s explanation was more straightforward. “I saw this place in a movie. Everyone who’s ever wanted to visit Avian Prime knows it. Honor of the Wing, Part Three. Not a great show, but I binge watched the entire franchise this one time.”

I examined our choices. There was the elevator, a hallway leading to more doors and switchback corridors, and stairs that appeared unused since the building had been built.

“What’s your hesitation?” Nova asked.

I didn’t want to answer. We had exceeded our mandate. Everyone was wounded, though some were hurt worse than others. Saint was a constant liability, and we had two civilians involved. The right call was to run back to the ship and think of a new plan.

“The pair of Avians were prisoners.” I barely talked loud enough for them to hear. “And we need them. My digi-creds are on Lord Havna finding and capturing them because they are exactly who we’re looking for. Does he know about Ultar artifacts and stopping the galactic nightmare that is coming? It doesn’t matter. He understands their value and will hide them after this. This is our only chance to stop a war.”

“Or start one,” Nova said.

“What?” I shouldn’t have asked because I knew the answer.

“Maybe Lord Havna wants to start a war. His Avian loyalists could pick up the pieces after other sentient forces weaken themselves fighting the Ultar,” Nova said.

Cissi and Cambridge looked worried but said nothing.

“There could be another way.” Cambridge looked to Cissi. “Did that movie show the ladder?”

She nodded. “The heroes climb the ladder in the final act to sneak into the heart of the evil warlord’s stronghold. I’m not saying Lord Havna is evil. He might be just greedy. Not that I want to be his prisoner. Ahh. I don’t know what I’m talking about. Can we just get out of here? And save the Avian twins. We should definitely do that.”

“Are you sure they’re twins?” I asked. “I had thought they might be a couple.”

Cissi seemed surprised at the question. “You can’t see their likeness? It’s so obvious.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” I pointed at Nova. “You’re still leading this mad quest. Find the ladder and take us to where they are most likely holding the twins.”

“Then what?” she asked.

“We free them and escape back to the ship like top notch APOP field agents.”

She growled quietly in her throat. “I knew you would say that. Let’s do this craziness.”

18

Fathers stepped away from Henry Saint. “The man says he’s good to continue on his own. If Yolo were here, she’d place odds against him. Not sure I would place a bet. The dude’s trashed.”

“Put your digi-creds on me, tough guy,” Saint said. “I’ve got this. Dude.”

I sent Fathers forward and took Saint by the arm. “Stay close to me. I won’t endanger anyone else for you. Understand?”

“Yeah, brother. No endangering the mission or the team. Same as always. It’s good to see you again. Damn I wish Kalchev and Boomer were here. Or that combat tech of yours.”

“She’s retired. Paints or something on Jenna’s World last time I heard.” I didn’t want to talk about Alliance of Planets Fleet Specialist Katrina Snow. As my Breaker Combat Technician, she’d known Saint and all my friends well. Her dream had been to retire and learn to paint, despite a complete lack of talent or training. I hoped she was doing better than we were.

“You should find her. Catch up,” Saint said because he’d always been a shameless reader of people’s inner thoughts and desires. “I bet you left a lot of void trash unsaid. A new start might be your chance. Tell her how much you appreciate her and admit what a huge pain in the ass you are nine times out of ten.”

“Or I could leave her where she is happy and not ruin her life. Focus, Saint. We’ve got work to do.”

He spread his hands defensively. His eyes held just a little of that old Henry Saint mischievousness. “I’m just saying you two were a good team. Bickered like siblings, but damn the two of you could run a rig.”

Nova called out that she’d found the ladder. I brought Saint and the others forward to see it. For a few minutes, we were bunched up in the hallway and vulnerable—not a feeling I enjoyed. The moment we were all together, Saint slumped against the wall and struggled to stand. His spurt of energy and good humor vanished as though it had never existed.

“That’s an addict for you,” Fathers muttered. “Up and down all the time.”

He wasn’t wrong, but I didn’t want to talk about it.

Nova pulled me aside. “We don’t have to go this way.” Concern filled her expression.

I knew she wouldn’t push or explain what we both already knew. We’d become friends and partners since she joined the team. We approached problems differently, but we always understood each other. “Agreed, but that means leaving the Avian twins and maybe failing our larger mission.”

“We could split up. Find the twins and still save your friend.”

She wasn’t wrong about that either, but I liked that option even less than dragging Saint down the narrow ladder. “Where does this go?”

“Cissi and Cambridge agree that Lord Havna keeps a mirror of his audience chamber on the lower level. He prefers the loft but can fit more people into the ground-level version. Unless he feels threatened, which I doubt he does since we’re running scared at the moment, he will put his prizes on display just as before. We’ll find the twins chained to the floor, most likely.”

“He won’t expect us to attempt a rescue, but we don’t have any more weapons or armor than when we started.”

She nodded but had clearly thought this through as many times as I had. “I asked a lot of questions while you were back there catching up with your old war buddy. The ground floor pavilion is much larger. Havna demanded it be larger and grander than the loft to make up for its lowly position on the first floor. That means the complex sprawls. Lots of corridors and side chambers. Maintenance rooms. Kitchens. Break rooms for staff.”

I imagined the building from outside. “That means there must be an extension out the back. There could be even more mazes in a larger structure, but at least they wouldn’t be three dimensional. Navigating a single level should be easier.”

She didn’t comment on my wishful thinking, but chose to continue. “You’re not thinking like a megalomaniac or a pilot.”

“I thought those were the same thing.”

“Very funny, Breaker. But listen, what would a guy like this want to flaunt his wealth and power?”

I smiled. “A landing pad, probably big enough for a small starship. We would have seen that even without circling the building.”

“I did see it,” she said. “It was several blocks away. Cissi and Cambridge estimate we will travel inside the building, or even underground, for quite a ways, more than far enough to reach his grand pavilion—and his airstrip.”

“Contact Regina and Cates via secure comms and give them the details. If we screw this up, the Ultar invasion will be the least of our worries.” I started back toward Saint. Renewed energy surged through my body. It felt like I could carry the entire team down the ladder.

“I’ll tell them you forced me to go along with your schemes.” She laughed lightly.

“Worth a shot, but you might as well accept that working with me won’t advance your career.”

She gave me one parting shot. “Good. Who would want to be a lieutenant? No thanks.”

I reached Saint. “How are you doing? Strong enough for a descending climb?”

He stared at me with foggy eyes and slumped shoulders

Next to him, Fathers stood with his arms crossed.

“I’ll take him. Go ahead of me,” I said. “It will be easier to pass him down than up.”

“Don’t drop him,” Fathers said and went to join Nova and the others at the front.

I looked to Kyn, who hadn’t made a sound of complaint since we began. “Are you good to bring up the rear? I can assign Cambridge if needed.”

“I will manage. If anyone pursues us down the ladder, I doubt there is much any of us could do to stop them.” He gave me a rare smile full of color, which I immediately realized I liked better than the persona he used to blend with humans.

“Just let me know if they start tossing grenades down on us.”

He raised his eyebrows and nodded. “Yes. Of course. You will be one of the first to know.”

“Knew I could count on you, Kyn.” I levered Henry Saint over one shoulder and went to the ladder, already regretting everything about this plan.

* * *

The climb felt like penance for every sin I’d ever committed. Twice I decided to surrender the burden of Saint’s weight to Fathers, but the transfer proved difficult. We abandoned the attempt. The muscle-bound agent was below me and the ladder shaft was too tight. We needed a landing or proper stairwell to switch safely. Attempting it now would endanger everyone below us.

How much could one man endure?

More than this, I decided. Stop being weak, Breaker. Get your ass in gear.

“You’re falling behind.” Nova’s tone was level, almost clinical in my right ear. “We’ll stop and wait.”

“Keep going. That will… give you… more time to react if I drop Saint… or fall.”

“You better not drop me,” Saint murmured, then promptly started singing out of tune like he was trying to drive me crazy.

“I confirmed contact with Regina. We’re doing it by encrypted texting. More reliable given our predicament,” she said. “Hang in there, boss.”

“Hanging in.” I muttered the words, almost laughing for reasons I didn’t understand or care about.

Saint flinched as though gripped in the throes of a sudden nightmare. I wondered if he was plummeting into the dark unknown of his mind. Perhaps his dream self was stuck in a box, suffocating while rescuers passed him by again and again. Maybe his friends had failed him no matter how many times he cried out for help.

“Hey,” he whispered hoarsely. “Can you relax? Your grip is crushing me.”

Relieved laughter expelled oxygen I needed for muscles and lungs, but I was glad for it. What was left of my friend was going to make it. Maybe I’d see him recovered. I relaxed now that he could hold on. Everything got so much easier. A tiny effort on his part made this ridiculous descent doable.

“Careful,” he said.

I didn’t realize what he was looking at because he was facing down my back.

My boot snagged on a ladder rung. I lost my balance, missed the next handhold, and fell.

Risking everything I let go with both hands and reached deep into a ventilation shaft. Oversized, it was large enough for two men—maybe—but anyone could see it was a bad idea to crawl into it.

I needed to rest, just for a minute. Nova and the others were far below now, making good time. They might even escape Havna’s stronghold. Holding them up and forming a new plan wouldn’t be wrong. Splitting the team wasn’t ideal, but circumstances changed. Hard decisions had to be made. That was what it meant to participate in a live operation. I wanted them to survive and escape even if I failed.

“Don’t crawl in there,” Saint warned.

My legs were hanging into the ladder shaft. His face was looking at them and the ladder below.

I ignored him. “Got to rest. Just a second.”

“Such a wuss.”

“Bite me.” I dragged both of us to safety and was pretty darn proud of my effort. Only when I finally relaxed my hands did cramps shoot from fingers to shoulders. Neck muscles bunched next. My back delivered the grand finale as though a torture master had seized my body and delivered me to hell.

I wasn’t sure how long it was before I felt better than Saint looked. He curled around my legs and was very near falling. The deeper I crawled into the ventilation tube, the farther I dragged him from the precipice behind us.

We reached a new ladder even smaller than the first.

“Breaker.” Nova snapped the word in my ear, probably not for the first time. “Report.”

“Fell. Caught myself. We’re in a parallel shaft. Meet you at the bottom.”

A pause followed before she spoke again. “That’s a bad idea.”

“Turning around is just a tad bit difficult right now.”

More silence. “Cissi, Cambridge, and Regina—when I’m able to contact her—says that passage you’re in is probably more complicated than you think. Don’t assume it’s a match of this one.”

I chuckled crazily. “No problem there. The architect of this place was high on G-5, I think.”

“Or just trying to be a jerk,” Saint added. “Probably a frustrated artist.”

I pulled my friend into an open space and rested him on a metal platform just wide enough to raise and lower equipment or supplies. Gazing downward, I saw there were small ledges at every opening in view. Barely large enough for a bot or drone to park, they weren’t perfect for our needs, but they were something to relieve the monotony of the ladder descent.

“You’re going to hate me, Nova, but this looks like an easier climb. More places to rest.”

“Fathers says he can come back up and help you.” Nova snapped orders at someone, possibly Cissi, in the background. “Stay low, stay out of sight. We’re going to be all right.”

“Tell Fathers thanks anyway. Meet you at the bottom. Secure a rally point and stay in touch. That’s an order.”

“Understood,” Nova said. “In that case, we’re picking up the pace to have time to clear the ground level if necessary.”

“Copy.” I climbed into the new ladder shaft and helped Saint after me.

“I can walk.”

“For now,” I said.

He lasted nearly two minutes before I was again holding him upright. More than once, I had to guide his feet onto ledges or ladder rungs. For one long moment, I placed my hand over his and gripped fiercely to keep his fingers in place. When I wearied of playing marionette master, I pulled him back into the rescue-carry and made my way grimly down with his body slung over my shoulders.

When I arrived at the bottom, a little math convinced me I hadn’t descended as many levels as the rest of my team. I lowered Saint to the floor, barely caring about anything but slipping out from under his weight. Leaning against the wall, I wiped sweat from my eyes and tried not to think.

A ramp led down to the level where Nova and the rest of the team waited. Static distorted the dedicated frequency.

“Nova, we’re heading your way.”

“Sooner will be better than later,” she said. “I’m glad you made it. I was betting on you.”

“Who bet against me?”

“You know it’s impolite to talk about another person’s wagers.” A pause. “It was Cambridge. We may have hustled him a little—convinced the man you were old and not actually that strong.”

“Rude. Saint and I will be along shortly. We’ll see who’s betting on who then.”

19

At the bottom of the ramp was an intersection that progressed right or left, but not forward. Neither would be a problem if we hadn’t already traveled farther than the estimated pace count to arrive near Nova and the others. I checked my wrist viewer, found garbled information, and wished I was wearing armor. That would mean stronger comm signals and better navigational tools.

All I had wanted was to find a pair of Avians and to ask for their help. A trip into the city shouldn’t have been this hard.

Lesson learned. Always assume the day will end in a maze. Words to live by.

Saint perked up, stepped away to walk on his own, and watched me suspiciously. “You’re in a good mood.”

“Always.”

He snorted. “I remember that, actually. Crazy deck devil.”

“We’re on the ground level. Can you make it the rest of the way? Use a wall or something to lean on if you need to.”

His head and neck trembled first. Before long he was bent over, shaking uncontrollably and dry heaving.

“That’s not from G-5. Or at least I’ve never seen withdrawal that bad.”

He wiped drool from one corner of his mouth. “Most drugs kill you at this point. I think micro keeps you alive just for the torture. You don’t hear me talk about regret, but I wish I’d never heard of the stuff. When I find who invented the trash, that unfortunate soul is going straight out an airlock.”

I swept my eyes up and down the hallway, searching for Havna’s security teams. None had shown themselves since we descended the ladders, probably because only an idiot would go that way. We had time to rest and we both needed it.

Saint methodically took control of his mind and body. “I’m glad you’re here. Someone has gotta handle this Ultar thing.” He looked tired, but on his way to a better state of mind.

“You said that already.”

“Did I? Galaxy’s edge, Breaker, I don’t remember half of what happens to me.”

I checked my wrist screen. There was no sign of Nova or of the layout more than a room or two from where I stood. “That’s probably lucky.”

He laughed. “You can say that again.”

“That’s probably lucky.”

“Lame. You never were the funniest man on the team.”

“My jokes are way better than Kalchev’s rambling, punch-line free attempts at getting a laugh. Boomer’s mostly just loud and friendly.” I missed my friends more than ever. “And yet everyone loves him best.”

“Neither of those hard cases are much competition for the comedy crown. Don’t hurt yourself celebrating.” He slid down the wall into a sitting position. “I’ve gotta stop. Just a breather.” He fished in his rags and came up empty.

I hauled him up. “No rest for the living.”

“Such a ballbuster. I’m moving. Just put your shoulder under my arm for a minute. I promise you won’t have to carry me much. You got any meds?”

I didn’t answer. He didn’t need drugs. He needed to eat and sleep for a week.

We limped along like a four-legged animal with poor coordination and found Nova, Fathers, Kyn, Cambridge and Cissi hiding from one of Havna’s patrols.

Nova fist bumped me as I joined them behind a stack of dusty building materials. That was all the energy I had for a greeting. Across a cluttered storage area, guards methodically searched rooms, closets, and furniture still wrapped in shipping material.

“You made it. I was about to call this mission off,” she said.

“You wouldn’t do that.” I passed Saint to Fathers and Kyn, then returned my attention to Nova and the problem we needed to find a way around.

“Fathers has been saying I’m nearly as reckless as you are. I told him not to make this mission ugly.” She tapped her wrist screen, and then her ear. “Still having trouble with comms. Regina and Cates are aware of the problem and working on an extraction option with or without voice links. Watch your screen for text. Just be ready for anything, okay.”

I’d never heard my sergeant this rattled. “How are you doing?”

“Fine. Galaxy freaking fine.” She hesitated. “It’s the kid.”

“Cissi’s not a kid.” I tried to puzzle out where she was going with this.

“I like her, Breaker. She’s one of the good ones. Doesn’t deserve this. We can’t ditch her?”

“Who wants to do that?”

She exhaled frustration. “No one. Okay. It’s just that there have been moments when I thought she might do better if we just handed her a fat stack of digi-notes and called her a cab. We’re going to get her killed. Now we have Henry Saint dragging us down. This mission is all over the place.”

“What do you want to do? Just between you and me. No judgement, and no pressure from anyone outside this conversation.” I hated putting her on the spot, but like everything else that was inconvenient and difficult, this was a critical moment for her as a leader. I needed her to make the right call without me demanding it.

“She’s staying with us.” Her tone was angry but certain.

I thought she would die before letting anyone hurt the young woman and it reassured me on a deep level. If she would risk everything for a near stranger, how much more would she give to protect the men and women working for her? How far could she push herself to accomplish the mission?

Pretty damn far.

“What else?” I asked.

“The no-fly zone remains an issue. Tell me what’s up with Saint?”

I thought my answer through and decided partial answers were better than none. Nova deserved full transparency. I kept my voice even and steady, not too loud, not like I was hiding something from the others. “He is involved in everything we’re doing now.”

“Special insight?” she asked.

“I think so. Soon as he’s sobered up, we’ll know more. Even if he was uninvolved, I can’t leave him behind.”

Her hard look wasn’t difficult to read. “None of us would ask you to. Let’s get everyone back to the ship. Cissi will have to wait to reunite with her family.”

“Fill me in.” I shifted gears. “How do we get out of here? There will be plenty of Havna’s security goons at the exits.”

“Kyn is on point. Cambridge is with Cissi. Fathers is our tail gunner unless you decide to issue new orders.” She waited.

“Go forward and help Kyn. Pick a way through the loading docks. Deliveries should come and go frequently to service a building this size, especially since we know the true dimensions now.” I struggled with my next decision. “Keep an eye out for Havna’s procession. I think he will keep the Avian twins close. We’re not leaving them behind either.”

“I had this bad boss one time,” Nova said, then held up her hands placatingly when I responded with a rude gesture.

We limped along, starting and stopping every time we encountered a guard or an alert dock worker. The true size of the complex showed itself in the number of staff and daily supplies it took to run the place. Lord Havna’s money man probably did finance terraforming expeditions, one of the most expensive and risky ventures in space. He certainly had an army of workers on the payroll.

“Hold. Havna and his entourage are passing out of the building with the Avian pair and an armed escort,” Nova said.

Once we were tucked away between vehicles, I found a decent observation point and watched the man load into an armored limousine. I wasn’t sure but thought it might have flight capability in addition to glide coils and backup ground wheels. Such vehicles existed but were so expensive and impractical that even the rich and powerful normally used other modes of conveyance.

“Can we grab the twins?” I asked.

Nova hesitated long enough to make a serious assessment based on what we knew of Havna’s personal army and what we saw on scene. “Not a chance.”

“Agreed.” I searched for the fastest way to the other side of the building where our vehicle was parked. “Back to the van. Quick as we can without being seen. We’re going to follow that convoy.”

20

I latched on to Saint, then pulled him behind a parked truck so large it relied on wheels taller than I was. Grav-coils just couldn’t get it done for this monster. Smaller glide vehicles ferried construction materials from its trailer to a building across from Havna’s growing complex. A crew of workers walked the deck above us like it was an ocean vessel or a train. “I need you to focus. We’re out in the open. If Havna’s people don’t spot you staggering around like a zombie, the local cops will. We don’t need that kind of attention.”

He spewed derision-tinted complaints under his breath before speaking more plainly. “I know how to stay away from cops.” A puzzled look mixed with the mirth of a private joke preceded what came next. “You think they’re separate entities, Havna’s goons and the local cops?”

I let the topic drop, though I’d thought that exact thing more than a few times since arriving on the planet. Noise filled the alley, side streets, and main thoroughfare as early morning traffic increased. A block away, construction crews broke concrete. At one corner, a street hustler and his crew jeered at passersby while a nearby musician played for meager tips.

“Breaker,” Nova snapped over our supervisor frequency. “We have a chance to move right now and we need to take it. Everyone better be ready to pick up the pace.”

“Let’s go. Double time.” I pushed Saint ahead of me and looked for everyone else. Nova and Cambridge were at the front. Kyn wasn’t far behind. He changed his appearance and walked easily among the morning crowd. Fathers and Cissi speed-walked to get across a street.

“We’re always last, Breaker,” Saint said, then laughed at a joke I’d forgotten the punchline to.

I kept my rail concealed under my jacket but felt conspicuous. Saint laughed and joked with random pedestrians, easily playing the part of a crazy street person—which he basically was. If not for this mission, he’d be begging near a subway or pleading for one more chance at a rehab clinic.

“Almost there,” Nova reported. “Kyn is running ahead to get the van ready. No one is paying attention to him, which is weird because he has his hair a lot longer than normal.”

I knew the Glosser hadn’t grown additional hair but rather relaxed parts that had been flattened against his head, neck, and shoulders. He looked nothing like the mild-mannered agent I’d arrived with. People stared. Some pointed, but no one with a gun and a badge paid him much heed. So that was good. Apparently, they weren’t worried about a lion-maned dude strolling through the crowd with nothing but confidence and attitude.

Cops slowed to check a vehicle fifty meters behind us. I urged Saint into a fast walk, which he exaggerated by swinging his arms because he liked to annoy me.

“Stop screwing around.” I spotted the van and the others climbing in.

“I gotta play the part, Breaker.” He spun in a circle as he walked and spouted nonsense. “Me crazy man. Very high. Super stoned.”

There was no point in debate, so I didn’t. At the van, I shoved him inside and yelled at Kyn, who was already behind the wheel. “Go. Locate the glide car with the Avian twins.”

“You’ll never find them, brother.” Saint’s mood crashed hard. All of his eccentric energy remained behind with the crowd. I reminded myself that he was a fake extrovert. Clowning around like that exhausted him no matter how he pretended otherwise.

I knew how he felt. It was way too people-y this morning. Crowds marched toward work, or wherever they went at this hour. I grimaced at my high-maintenance friend and also rejoiced that I finally had him reeled in. No matter what happened, I wasn’t letting him get sucked back into that life.

“Good morning, Lieutenant,” Regina said on the squad comm. “I have located the vehicle you are looking for and am tracking it.”

“Regina! You’re a lifesaver,” I said.

“Thanks, boss. I missed you too. I will pipe coordinates and the best land routes directly to Kyn,” she said. “Is that acceptable?”

“Perfect is a better word, Regina. Great to hear from you.” I watched the cars we passed.

Kyn steadily increased speed despite growing traffic congestion.

“Kyn, what are you doing?” I asked warily.

He steered through on-coming traffic, then veered back into the correct lane once we’d bypassed an immobile cluster of vehicles. “Is that more like driving this thing like I stole it?”

My fingers dug into my seat as he passed several cars on the right. Not so long ago, we’d teased him for his technique, though it had been perfect for the situation. His version of driving a vehicle like he stole it had been to move cautiously and not draw attention from authorities.

And he wasn’t wrong. That did make more sense, despite being the exact opposite of how most people used the term.

Now he steered like a daredevil, pumped the accelerator like it owed him money, and never touched the brake.

My stomach seemed to dance in zero gravity. Cambridge looked green. Cissi laughed with delight. Only Nova appeared unaffected by the reckless charge through city traffic.

“I have it in sight,” Kyn said.

“Me as well. Confirmed.” Nova pointed to the convoy. “Second from the back. They have it under guard, but not too far forward to imply social standing or status. I guess prisoners don’t rate that high on Avian Prime.”

Cissi spoke angry words in her language before switching back to Galactic Standard. “Havna should know better. Captivity kills our people. He is basically murdering them slowly. Suddenly, my problems don’t seem very important.”

I exchanged a quick look with each member of my team and knew we were really committed now. “Kyn, move into position and peel that vehicle away from the others. Try to do it where we can get it alone for a few minutes.”

“Right away, boss.” He edged into a new lane and gained on his quarry. The mad dash was done. Now he operated the glide van with surgical precision.

“That bridge.” I pointed. “They have to pass it. If they don’t take it, make sure the glide car we want does. That will force the rest of the convoy to turn around in heavy traffic or drive against the flow buying us time.”

“Nice,” Nova said. “I agree that should give us five or even six minutes to conclude business with the driver and guards in the target vehicle, extract the hostages, and exfiltrate across the bridge.”

“I can do this,” Kyn said. “Stand by.”

My heart beat in my throat as we approached the precise location. I reminded myself to breathe and checked each member of the team to make sure they weren’t tightening up.

Saint looked bored and a bit sick. Cissi was shaking with excitement and nervous tension at the same time. Cambridge looked worried but was attempting to hide it. He wanted our respect. That much was clear.

I wondered how all of this would go over with his father.

“Brace for impact,” Nova warned.

Kyn accelerated slightly, pulled alongside the rear corner of the car, and bumped it hard. The Havna chase car raced to intervene but was too late. Kyn rammed his target sideways, and it wound up twenty meters onto the bridge. Slider disc, corner pocket, I thought. The Glosser agent immediately steered into the chase car and bounced it the other direction.

I measured the results as soon as I was done being jostled side to side. Nova also evaluated the maneuver. Her expression showed she agreed. While the trick had been extremely well-executed, it wasn’t enough.

“Kyn! Push the hostage car farther onto the bridge, and don’t stop until we’re clear of Havna’s other vehicles.” I twisted to look back at the pursuit. At least one of the vehicles was en route to help the vehicle we were targeting. The others would arrive a few minutes later.

Horns blared. Vehicles collided, sending shockwaves through the glide way and booming like thunder. A safety klaxon played instructions from traffic control devices on the intersection. Someone screamed.

I focused on the revving power plant of our glide van and pursuit. The sound had a turbine-like quality. The vehicle chasing us moved with ruthless determination, slamming aside already wrecked vehicles as people attempted to climb out. We were definitely going to have to fight at least one group of Havna’s goons. I hoped the front half of the convoy was caught in traffic, at least for a while longer. There would be other soldiers in the vehicle with the hostages, though one or two individuals would need to stay with the prisoners to control them. The odds were still against us, but we’d improved our chances significantly.

These and other tactical factors flashed through my mind like old friends crashing a party. The ambient light of moon, stars, and the city scape would affect target identification and acquisition. A stiff breeze would pose no problem for rail bolt accuracy but might send dust and smoke into our eyes. Noise was distracting. Everything went into my assessment. Sometimes I wished I had a ship AI in my head to help me process so much data.

My Breaker had computers to help with battlefield management. And I’d had Katrina Snow as my combat technician. This would barely be a fight if I had her and my heavy-duty gear. Put a ship AI, maybe something from a small model, in my rig and forget about it. We’d kick so much void trash it would be the stuff of legend.

“Nova and Kyn, you bail out and head for the hostages. Secure them immediately. No negotiating unless everyone in the glide car surrenders and lays down their weapons on command. Cambridge and Saint, stay here with Cissi. Fathers, you’re with me. We got a tactical team to teach a lesson.”

“Sounds good, boss. I was hoping for some impossible odds to finish out the day.”

“Oh, I doubt we’re anywhere close to done yet.” I put one hand on the door level and drew my rail with the other. Twisting my body toward the direction I needed to exit, I counted down the seconds but waited on the driver’s signal.

“That's it,” Kyn said. “We can't go further without untangling the wreckage. I'm coming to a stop and throwing the transmission lock to make sure someone doesn't steal this beautiful ride.”

“Three. Two. One.” I burst from the glide van and went straight at the pursuit vehicle as it slid to an abrupt stop behind us. My rail punched holes through the windshield, suppressing return fire and preventing the driver from running us over. The glass spider-webbed and light flickered through the integrated sensor screens. No one could see us without jumping out.

Which they did.

Fathers came behind me but quickly rolled out to my left and dropped two of Havna’s gray guards as their boots touched the pavement. The third ducked back, avoided getting hit, and also caused confusion with the rest of the team, who were attempting to move forward.

I sprinted to the driver’s side of the vehicle and pumped rounds through the sheet metal. If the vehicle was armored, this was a dangerous waste of time and ammunition. For one second, my gut clenched at the possibility of watching the tungsten bolts ricochet crazily while the soldiers darted around the back of the van to kill me.

Fully committed, I continued to fire as I moved toward the back of the vehicle in hopes of preempting any attack from that direction. Most assault vans had a rear door, though passenger side deployment was the most common technique used. More people could pile out at once, which meant more rails entering the fight more quickly.

Even if they used that option, and survived Father’s withering attack, they would still have to find their way to the front of my barrel.

Their day officially sucked worse than mine despite having us outnumbered. Regret fought for control. I never relished these fights even when there was no other choice. Behind me, I heard Nova and Kyn fighting desperately to rescue the Avian twins. Rail bolts zinged off the bridge supports.

My shots punched through the side of the van easily. Havna hadn’t spent the big money to provide armor and the beefed-up glide drives required to move it. With no way to tell what I hit inside, I just kept moving.

The exchange took seconds. All of these thoughts happened in some type of alternate universe that didn’t obey the temporal rules. I knew from experience that one battle might seem to take hours, while a similar incident could feel like it was over before it began. Somehow the information was the same, or at least that was what the cognitively aware part of my brain remembered in the seconds after the clash.

Anger, regret, and frustration burned through my body. I didn’t want to be here doing this. Why did men like Havna hold innocents prisoner?

Were the Avians prisoners? What did I really know? Where was my evidence?

I pushed aside doubt, focusing on getting through this incident with the least amount of damage to either side. Images of the Avian pair chained to the floor of Havna’s grand audience chamber strengthened my resolve just enough to continue the fight.

A trio of large, angry, wounded Avians rushed into view. I sidestepped and continued to fire. This was as far as I could go without emerging on the other side of the van and risking hits from Fathers’s rail gun. Friendly fire was never friendly.

We had them. This fight was in the bag despite terrible odds. Elation flooded through my chest despite the doubt and confusion of a moment earlier. “Drop your weapons! You’re done! Not worth dying over!”

Only three were still on their feet. All were wounded. Ignoring my words, they faced each other and gripped shoulders like they were in a sports huddle, and flared their wings.

I’d never seen anything like this and was taken completely off guard. Dark grey with a single row of red feathers running horizontally, the wings that hit me were wider and taller than I was, and moved fast as a rail bolt. I barely saw the impact to my face that flung me backward.

Landing on your back during the middle of a railfight sucked. There was no better way to have the wind knocked out of you.

After pulling my knees toward my chest, I was able to aim my rail between them and fire as my lungs struggled for air. Two of the Avians had rallied and selected me as the focus of their counterattack. Anger and excitement glowed in their eyes until tungsten steel bolts flashed from my rail, cutting one of them down at the knees. The other skipped sideways and missed his shot.

I twisted onto my side and raked him with the last of my ammunition. He staggered away, weapon forgotten even as I scrambled to my feet, reloading as I stood.

“Fathers, report!” I shouted before I was all the way up.

“Minor wound. This guy didn’t do as well. That really caught me off guard, though. Never fought Avians before.” He didn’t look glad to have won. The man wasn’t really a killer, despite his skill at war.

“Start rendering aid. If they can survive until their team arrives, they’ll have a chance.” I ran to help Nova and Kyn while Fathers disarmed the chase team and applied pressure bandages or tourniquets as needed.

Regina spoke rapidly in my ear as I ran. “I hacked into traffic control devices to further delay enemy reinforcements.”

“You’re officially the best ship AI in the APOP.”

“Thanks, boss. I will let all the other AIs know immediately.”

Good ‘ol Regina. The scene before me was nearly as chaotic as the fight I’d just come from. Kyn had pushed the hostage vehicle a third of the way across the bridge, but also far nearer the edge than I liked. Only sounds and flashes of light escaped from the smoke of the collision.

“Nova, report.”

No answer.

Then I spotted the Avian twins sprinting away from the wreck. An Avian soldier emerged behind them, wings partially flared, his long rail held tight to his shoulder as he aimed through the red dot sights.

I took a shooting stance and raised my weapon.

The soldier fired, wounding one twin then the other. The desperate Avians didn’t stop. Desperately crawling forward, they looked about to scramble off the edge of the bridge and disappear.

One, two, three bolts flashed from my barrel toward the shooter. The first caught him in the neck. The others hammered his body armor as he fell sideways, arms limp, weapon tumbling to the pavement. Advancing to make sure he was down for the count, I spotted the twins helping each other into the bridge superstructure and vanishing downward.

I didn’t think they had fallen or jumped, but maybe that was wishful thinking. One thing was certain: they didn’t want to remain captives any longer.

A new figure beat me to the edge. It took me a second to realize who he was, though I should've realized my old friend wouldn't have stayed out of the mix for long. Saint ran like a mangy cheetah, covering distance impossibly fast for a man with such a wasted body. I actually missed a step I was so surprised by the sight. My friend had a wild look in his eyes that I knew meant one thing—he wouldn’t stop until he had what he was after.

Unless he fell to his death. That would probably ruin his plan.

“Lot more of these guys than I thought.” Nova’s statement was lost in the background noise.

Heartsick over the inability to be two places at once, I rushed toward her. Saint and the twins would have to just hold on a minute. My team needed me.

Kyn was down, struggling to fight off an attacker much larger than he was. The Avian soldier pinned him to the ground with one hand and punched him with the other. Nova retreated around the damaged vehicle and our van, reloading on the move, and trying to fight off several of Havna’s soldiers who had been guarding the prisoners.

I sprinted several strides, then took a shooting stance. Firing on the move was often necessary, but I couldn't get close enough and I needed firm footing to boost my accuracy. The first bolt whizzed by one of their heads. He looked over his shoulder, surprised and alarmed.

My next rail bolt slammed into his shoulder, spinning him in a tight circle. With no time to assess the damage inflicted, I switched to a new target, striking body armor and forcing its wearer back.

Nova, her reload complete, stood almost toe to toe with the other and pressed her trigger pad as quickly as possible. She didn’t remain stationary but moved laterally as she fired. At that range, it was hard to miss. The soldiers attempted a similar tactic, but one took a bolt in the face plate and the other suffered a weapon malfunction.

I aimed.

Nova kicked the man in his face as he bent forward to deal with his malfunction.

Not wanting to risk a dangerous shot with them so close together, I shot him right in the butt cheek. He danced in a lopsided circle, yowling in pain.

21

“Nova, you good?” She seemed far away, but I didn't want to cross to her position unnecessarily.

She gave me a weary thumbs-up.

I dashed to the edge of the bridge and saw that nothing had gone well for the twins or Saint. They were curled into a tiny alcove, one streaming blood, and the other cradling a probably broken arm.

Henry Saint had worse problems. He hung by the fingertips of one hand. The other held a cable that was slick with blood from the Avians just above him. I wasn't sure if he was lower than they were on purpose, but I suspected that was the case. In his mind, the position had probably promised a better chance of catching them if they slipped.

That was my flawed, brave friend. Despite all of his vices, he had a good heart and a selfless spirit.

I checked my gun belt, even though I knew none of us had brought climbing gear for this mission. Why would we?

My choices were simple, so I tried not to overthink the problem. I had to reach the injured Avians and my friend, somehow treat their wounds, and secure them to the infrastructure before they fell two hundred meters to the river below. From such a height, the water would feel like concrete on impact. If they managed to survive the sudden deceleration, they would need to swim while injured—assuming they were conscious.

I didn't have much time to study the probable landing zone, but there were barges scattered here and there. I could see the wakes of smaller ships but not enough to determine what they were doing. For all I knew, they were more of Havna’s men sent to gather up our bodies when we fell.

A thought occurred to me. The guards had fired on the twins. Apparently, Havna wanted them dead if he couldn't possess them. I assumed he wanted his own negotiations with the dangerous sentients. The stakes were higher than I originally assumed.

No time for politics now. I climbed downward as fast as possible, slipping twice. Only then did I realize that my heart rate had steadied. Nearly dying tended to bring it back up again. A good mission could be full of thrills. This one was not the fun version of our normal escapades.

I paused to catch my breath and shake my hands out one at a time. I was close but still not there. The Avian twins looked sad. If they were within earshot, I would hear them asking for help or whimpering.

They didn't deserve this.

I thought one was male and the other was female but hadn't exactly talked to them up close. The more masculine of the pair had one wing that seemed to be lame when before it had been as vibrant as any other of his kind. The way it lay flopped off the side of the landing looked not only dangerous, but also tragic.

“Saint, can you hold on?”

“I suppose I'd better.” Effort distorted his words, but I thought he had a better grip now.

“On my way.” I said, then worked my way closer to the Avians. “My name is Lieutenant Benjamin Wrath. I'm with the APOP. I'm here to help you.”

Both of the twins stared up at me.

The female spoke. “Why would you be any different than the rest of them?”

“My mother said I have a trustworthy face.” There wasn't time to see if my humor was appreciated. I shifted until I was adjacent to their precarious perch. “I'm going to remove some of my gear, including my shirt, and fashion it into straps. You can tie yourselves to the bridge, if you feel that's best, but I'd like to form a harness and try to carry you both to safety.”

The woman, who seemed the most alert, spoke for them both. “We have seen the sick one many times but never talked to him. Why does he do that to himself? And why would we want help from somebody who has been so ruined by life?”

“Good questions, but a little heavy for our current situation. If you allow me to take you someplace safe, I promise you, on my honor, that I will deliver you wherever you want to go if you don't want to help me.”

The Avians exchanged a look, and then the female once again took the lead. “No one has even offered such a deal. We will give you one chance, but only one.”

I fought down unexpected nausea and vertigo. This wasn’t like fighting on a starship. “I knew this day was going to work out.”

The Avians didn't laugh at my joke, but neither did they push me off the narrow landing.

I removed my belt and hung it on a tactical loop on my pants. Next, I wiggled out of my outer shirt, leaving me in just a sweat-stained T-shirt.

“Allow me to use your knife, and I will cut that for you, into pieces,” the male said.

“Do it.” I grabbed hold of the bridge with both hands and rested while he fashioned my outer shirt into straps. There was no time to marvel at the quick efficiency and almost artistic way he moved. If not for the pale, wounded cast of his complexion, it would have been a joy to watch. The man was an artist.

I activated comms. “Regina, Cates—I don’t want to ask this of you—”

“We’re on the way,” Cates said in a rush. “Already discussed it with Regina. We should be able to trespass through local air space with a hijacked identifier code and get out before causing an intergalactic incident.”

“I’m skeptical.” I knew my ship and my squad would bend the truth under these conditions, so I allowed silence to fuel their guilt.

“Okay, it’s maybe good for thirty minutes. We need to really haul the mail to get there and back in time, and you better be ready.” Cates typed extra loudly on his control screen as he sold the idea. The clacking keystrokes were a distraction tactic if I had ever heard one.

A new voice came on the line. “I’m working with various stakeholders. Embassy officials and even Bayle’s lawyers. Call it damage control,” Yolo assured me. “They agree these restrictions are overbroad.”

“Don’t tip our hand,” I said. “It might be better that they don’t know too much about our visit here. Saint and I will be ready with two Avian passengers in need of medical attention. Gotta go before I fall off this support beam.”

Below, Saint had wedged himself into the arch of a bridge support. He nodded. The man was as ready as an emaciated, unwashed former Breaker could be.

The Avian man held up the remains of my shirt. “The straps are finished. How do you wish to use them?”

“Do you have a name?”

“Of course. I am called Borm by humans and most sentient races. The Razik of course make no distinction between genders outside their kind. This is my sister Fay. Her true name is difficult to pronounce even for our own kind. She believes we should fasten these straps around our waists like belts with handholds in front.”

“She’s correct.” I adjusted his work with one hand. “This will be easier if I’m forced to carry you or catch you during a fall.”

“Yes, that seems beneficial,” Borm said.

I checked the progress of the Soft Touch on my wrist screen and saw the ship was nearly here. A glance at Saint told me he was ready. His hunched shoulders and feverish pallor told me it would be best if I didn’t rely on him. As in most emergencies, I doubted there would be much choice. “A ship will come.”

Borm and Fay stared at me with wide eyes. Fear and uncertainty radiated from their crouched forms.

“You will need to jump. My friend will go first and help you land safely.”

Both Avians grew more alarmed with each word.

Fay spoke. “I do not like this plan.”

“Me neither.” I’d meant to explain in detail. Getting them on board with the idea was important, but there wasn’t time, and I didn’t have the energy. “Trust me. This is the only way.”

Fay studied me with unreadable eyes. “It would seem so.” She bent her face toward her brother. “Are you ready?”

“I most certainly am not,” Borm said indignantly. “But I will jump on a hundred ships before allowing Lord Havna’s gola-choc-kacks to take us back.”

“You are so very sophisticated, brother. Why talk like that?” She drew herself up. “Shall I go first?”

“We jump at the same time,” Borm suggested.

I interrupted. “No. Saint won’t be able to catch two of you.”

The Avians didn’t like that.

Borm spoke. “He is one of your saints?”

I tipped my hand side to side to express maybe. They probably had no idea what the gesture meant. “It’s complicated. Worry about that later.”

The Soft Touch swooped into view and hovered below us as Havna’s soldiers shouted, pointed, and demanded I surrender the Avians.

I cupped one hand to my ear. “Sorry. I didn’t catch that with all this grav-coil and turbine noise. We’ll talk later.”

I pointed to Saint.

He nodded, then jumped onto the top of my ship.

Before the twins realized what was happening, I grabbed the modified belt strap and pitched Fay after my friend. She was the least injured. I thought it best to start off with a win and tackle the harder passenger transfer next.

“You are not good!” Borm complained.

I lunged for the sturdy loops he’d fashioned around his waist. He twisted. I tried again, seized hold, and paused to make sure Saint and Fay hadn’t already been tossed from the ship.

Saint had one hand on Fay while keeping his body spread as wide as possible. Face down, he barely had the leverage to keep the Avian woman from going over the side.

“Cates. Check your cameras and dip your ship to port before they slip free,” I said.

The ship responded instantly. I wasn’t sure if it was my pilot or the ship AI who made the correction, but it kept Saint and Fay from plummeting toward the river below. Seconds passed that felt like minutes before the woman was securely near the dorsal section of the Soft Touch.

I exhaled in relief.

Borm attempted to break my grip.

“We have a saying about asking for forgiveness later instead of permission now.”

He snorted, which sounded far different from a human version of the same sound. “I don’t like that saying.”

Below, Saint was visibly losing what little strength he’d been able to recover. He had helped Fay to relative safety, but there wasn’t a good place to ride on the top of the starship. Not while it flew in the atmosphere of a planet. He held her in place, his strength obviously flagging.

I watched until he tied strips of his ragged clothing to the makeshift safety harness I’d fashioned for her. He waved that he was ready and running out of time.

“Do you trust me?” I asked Borm.

“Not really.”

“Good. Because this won’t damage our relationship in that case.” I pitched him to Saint, who caught him but struggled to arrest his momentum. Fay tried to help and lost her hold on the ship’s low fin.

Before I could react, Saint, Fay, and Borm had formed a chain stretching down the slope of the ship that seemed doomed to break.

I balanced above them, ready to make the leap, and was distinctly aware that smashing into the twins would not be helpful.

“Hold on,” Cates warned via comms. Then, without warning, he dropped the ship faster than their bodies could fall.

All three panicked. The Avians shrieked, while Saint shouted himself hoarse. I cursed even when I realized what my pilot was attempting.

For a second, the dislodged passengers floated in the air. The ship shifted a meter to the right and raised until it gently caught them in a more accommodating section of the dorsal area.

A rail bolt pinged off the support beam above my head. I looked up. Havna’s soldiers stared back through their weapon sights.

“Time to go,” I muttered as I flung myself toward the shifting ship. Air rushed past my ears and made my eyes water. The fall was farther than I had anticipated.

A prayer to any force in the galaxy that might listen rushed into my head but never quite found its way from my mouth. I struck hard and saw stars.

My ears rang. Stunned, I sat there with no attempt to hold on.

“Hey you!” Cates shouted via loudspeaker. “Microhead, whoever you are. Grab the lieutenant, or I’m going to come out there and throw you off my ship.”

Saint didn’t respond. He was already holding on to Borm, who couldn’t maintain his grip. Blood smeared the metal surfaces around him.

Fay scrambled toward me across the top of the Soft Touch and wrapped me in her wings as she held onto a service hatch with both hands.

Dazed, confused, and uncertain about my identity or location, I marveled at the strength of her wings. Why can’t they fly? They seem to have the wingspan, and this young woman, at least, definitely has the strength to do anything.

“Are you able to shake yourself out of this stupor?” she asked.

“Uh, yeah. Why not? Sounds like fun.” I held on to a wing with one hand, and found my own place to grab the ship’s exterior.

“You hit your head, I think.” Her words were full of compassion, and something else, the first ember of trust, perhaps.

Yolo appeared from a service hatch. She wore a sturdy belt festooned with carabiner rings and perfectly coiled ropes. “I’m coming to you, boss.”

“Get the Avians and Saint first.”

“That’s him? Galaxy’s stars, he looks worse than his mug shot.”

A minute later, Yolo had each of us tied with a safety line and was guiding Borm into the ship. Saint managed his own way. I waited with Fay.

“Your crew is both efficient and brave,” she said.

“Thanks.”

My head cleared as we finally climbed inside to safety. The entire process hadn’t taken long, but felt like an eternity. Injuries and being shot at distorted perception.

Yolo attended to our guests while Frank Mirrors, our forensic examiner, came to my aide. Normally he kept to himself, but I trusted the man to pitch in when needed.

“Glad to have you back aboard, Lieutenant.”

“Good to be here, Frank.” I walked to the bridge on my own power. “I’ll feel better when we’re escaped from Avian Prime air space.”

“Sooner would be better than later,” he agreed, then stayed close in case I lost my balance. “You shouldn’t jump from that high in the future.” There was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

I let out a laugh. “Noted. Cates, pick up Nova and the others.”

“On it,” my pilot said.

I strapped into the command chair. Mirrors finally retreated to his lab when Yolo rushed in breathlessly and took her place on the bridge. In this case, that meant co-pilot though that wasn’t her normal job.

The Soft Touch curved through the air, flared engines, and touched lightly on the bridge. Kyn, Cissi, and Cambridge sprinted for the loading ramp even as it dropped. Nova lay down covering fire until they were safe, then sprinted after them.

“Permission to use the ship guns,” Regina asked.

“Negative. That would draw too much attention and get us grounded no matter how good your stolen identity is.” I used the firmest tone I could command. “Speed is what we need now.”

“Of course,” Regina said.

“Told you he wouldn’t go for it.” Cates lifted off while the loading ramp was still coming up.

Havna’s soldiers fired at the Soft Touch. Rails pinged off the ship’s armor without causing damage. She had been a warship, after all. Her weapons had been removed or downgraded, but the armor remained.

“We’re heading away from the planet,” Cates advised.

“Perfect.” I paused. “Does anyone have a headache blocker? It’s been a rough day.”

22

Coffee could only do so much. No medical authority, virtual or otherwise, would back up my assertion that it was a remedy for concussions. The caffeine boost did make me feel invincible and gave me powers of concentration I needed right now. Who cared what medical experts said?

The last thing I wanted was attention from Nova or the rest of my team. My injuries were nothing. The most seriously hurt was Borm, and I wasn't sure how to treat his wounds.

In a general sense, we understood some things were consistent across all the sentient races. Blood loss was bad. Broken bones couldn't be ignored. The central nervous system could only take so much stress. But were there other issues unique to Avians?

Probably.

I'd been banged up but hadn't died so it was all good in Breaker's universe. Saint was fast asleep in his own cabin. Yolo and Woods had convinced him there were narcotics in the hydration drip, which he probably only half believed. It didn't matter because he was getting what he needed.

We were much more worried about the Avians. Once they'd been stitched up, they had gone to sleep. Cissi said this was normal. We trusted her advice.

“How long will they need to rest?” I asked.

The young woman shrugged like she didn't know, but I could tell she was holding back. I was formulating a better line of questioning when Cambridge entered the room, still pumped with adrenaline and nervous energy.

“You have an incredibly tough and loyal crew, Breaker,” he said. “I hope to have a similar group to back me up someday. When this is over, will you show me your secrets?”

“I like to give free advice.” This wasn't a lie, but if he thought I had a one size fits all template for leadership, then he would be disappointed.

“Good, good. I'm glad we got the twins out of Havna’s grasp. He doesn't represent everyone on the planet. Of course, I don't have to tell you that. You were here for the misunderstanding and probably appreciate the nuances of this situation better than most. Am I making sense? I can't stop pacing. That was just so damn intense.” A laugh escaped him as he realized he was walking back and forth as he talked.

I signaled everyone, including Regina, to give him the silent treatment. He needed to feel some pressure before we would get even a version of the truth. Nothing about my investigation was going according to plan. That wasn't unusual. Even the best laid plans twisted out of control when executed.

“How did you expect the meeting with Havna to go?” I presented the question as casually as possible, hoping that none of my agents would decide to play bad cop. Cambridge wasn’t his father. Jonas Bayle was a lying, cheating snake who had sworn on more than one occasion to end my friend and mentor’s career. I wanted to believe the son was a better man.

Nova, Fathers, and Woods had come to me in private, urging me to put Cambridge Bayle into an information blackout. If they had their way, he would be confined to quarters until we could return him to his ship. Trust didn’t come easily these days.

“I had hoped to pay the price we agreed to and receive the information promised.” He sat but didn’t know what to do with his hands. First, he dropped them in his lap, then squeezed the armrests, then played with various controls. “I’m glad you were there. Havna would have chained me to the floor next to the twins—assuming he didn’t just kill me.”

I uttered a noncommittal sound and swiveled to a screen to work in silence. This wasn’t an easy tactic to maintain, but I knew it could work for someone like the son of Jonas Bayle.

“Did I do something wrong? I guess I’m not part of the team.” He appeared disappointed, almost heartbroken. “We were working together for a while. If all missions are like this, then sign me up.”

I finished a report and logged out. Cambridge’s eyes burned a hole in my back. His total attention was on me. I hoped he was ready to listen, and more importantly, answer truthfully.

“Listen, Bayle. I have history with your father. How many times has he said he wouldn’t piss on me to put me out if I was on fire?”

“Three times,” Fathers provided, sparing Cambridge from answering. “Though two were in the same rant, so I’m not sure how you want to count those… you know, for statistical purposes.”

Cambridge looked dismayed at the turn of events, and a bit angry. That made him seem more believable. “That is how he talks. Don’t put too much stock in it. Men of his generation are full of bluster.”

“Were you there for the information on FTL travel or the Avian twins?” I asked. “Which was your real purpose?”

He hesitated but answered. “Both. We didn’t know they were there but suspected it was possible. I was to liberate them through diplomacy, bribery, or stealth if possible.”

“Why?” I didn’t want to hear the answer because I knew what it would be.

He stood and exhaled forcefully as he resumed pacing. After two turns, he stopped near my command chair. “I’m not going to lie to you, Breaker. He wouldn’t have allowed you to interview them or have any access at all. I don’t think he wants to use them like some of the other factions. His main purpose was to deny their services to other players.”

“Players? That makes this sound like a game.”

He had the decency not to argue the point. “I have an idea. We didn’t get travel passes just because my family donated to charity.”

My team and I waited.

“Like you, I initially gained access to Avian Prime through a ruse. Bribes were involved, but the main reason I have a better travel visa than you is because I know how the locals think and what they value.”

“And that is?” Nova asked.

“Elimination of rivals. My father had some unsatisfactory dealing with a certain financier living in the Jalileel Mountains. Several factions on this planet were willing to turn a blind eye as I captured him to face fraud charges in the AP.”

“You want us to grab him?” I asked.

“It might distract my father, or at least temper his rage when he learns I didn’t get the FTL information or the Avian twins.”

Cambridge Bayle’s problems weren’t mine. I doubted finding the recalcitrant moneyman would earn us a pass, or forgiveness for his son. But what if it did prove useful? Would it be worth slipping clear of the attention of a powerful enemy, even for just a little while.

“Give me a moment with my team, Cambridge.”

He nodded and headed for the door. Suddenly, his energy was in serious decline.

The moment the portal shut behind him, I pointed. “Woods, don’t let him out of your sight.”

“Why me?” She was already moving despite the question.

“Because I know you can kick his ass and you’ve got the vigilance of a sniper.”

“I am a sniper.”

I spread my hands to accept her acknowledgement of my point.

“I love spying on a politician’s overgrown son.” She made the statement theatrical. “This will be so much fun. Who cares that I will miss all the grown-ups talking?”

I played along. “Good luck!”

I waited half a minute after Cambridge and Woods were gone. Nova and the others read my intentions perfectly, crossing their arms and leaning back to wait. This served two purposes. One, we made sure Cambridge didn't turn around and step back in to surprise us and maybe overhear something. Two, it gave each of us a chance to gather our thoughts.

Normally, I'd like to hear everyone's opinion before influencing them with my views. Other times, I set the tone in the spirit of good leadership. Today I chose the first option. “Who wants to start?”

Nova waited until everyone had a chance to speak. She made eye contact with each member of the squad present. Woods of course was gone, as was Mirrors. Lehman was sitting outside Saint's room reading a book.

“Go ahead, Sarge,” Fathers said.

Nova nodded and began. “Simple is usually best. We take what we have and make our best speed out of the system—decide where to go later after we sort through what we learned. A little random chance might throw off pursuit or inquiry. However, I'm also accustomed to extremely complicated flight patterns with large groups of ships. If we want to make this a game of chess, I'm down with that too. I can do complicated.”

“Elaborate,” I said.

She stepped away from the workstation she had been leaning on, not quite talking with her hands but not standing still either. “Jonas Bayle has never been an ally, and probably won't be no matter what we bring him. So logically, it doesn't make much sense to try to appease him or do his son a favor.”

“We could learn something from him,” Omar said. “Any contact can mean information.”

“Says our agent with the mysterious past nobody can unlock from records.” I deadpanned the joke to make sure it didn't sound like criticism. Grudgingly released chuckles rippled through the team.

Good enough.

“I agree in this case.” Nova faced Fathers. “What do we do with Cissi?”

“Why would you ask me?” He popped his thick knuckles. “I’m not her babysitter or her guardian. Not anymore, anyway. And don't stick me with that duty again.”

“You don't have even a little bit of an opinion?” Nova asked the big man.

He shifted uncomfortably. “She's a good kid. Not a kid, but you know what I’m saying. We probably should get her to her family or something. Or at least not get her killed while we’re trying some sketchy, probably illegal snatch-and-grab.”

Now I crossed my arms and leaned back, trying to disappear while the conversation deepened. I was embarrassed that I hadn't thought of the young woman. She couldn't be part of this meeting, but I was going to get her input and do right by her. I hated the way she'd been treated and wasn't about to compound her disappointment.

Nova finished her list. “The last thing I'll say is that I don't want to negotiate with Jonas Bayle. I'm the newest member of this unit and don't have the same ties to Morales, but I have other issues with Bayle. His rhetoric about pushing into the Ultar sector uninvited is inexcusable and dangerous. I'll support anything that puts a stop to that galactic-sized mistake.”

“Maybe we grab this guy and see what he's worth, what he means to Bayle.” Omar came to life as he pitched the idea. “First, we get Cambridge in a room and see what he really knows. Figure out all of their dirty little secrets and plots, then go from there.”

“I love it when you get bloodthirsty,” Yolo said, wide-eyed.

Everyone looked to Kyn. The Glosser remained as quiet as ever. His thoughtful expression instilled confidence and he hadn't even spoken yet.

He stepped into the center. “Nothing has gone according to plan.”

“Never does,” grumbled more than one member of the team at the same time.

Kyn smiled, then continued. “I feel as though there are several reasons we came here, even if we didn't know what they were before we arrived. That goes against my more scientific nature, but I've learned to, how do you say, roll with the punches, in this unit. I say we get this financier and see what the next move is.”

I listened to each member of my team with all of my attention. It seemed we basically agreed. Most of the discussion focused on tactics rather than whether or not to go after the financier. I kept my hands off my work screen. My team checked maps, calculated travel times, and surveyed local news as I waited for their final thoughts.

After several minutes, all eyes rested on me. I took that as my cue to weigh in.

“I think we’re in agreement. We’ll conduct a raid to bring in this individual, then debrief him. I want his willing cooperation if we can get it. We are not taking a prisoner or a hostage. All of this will be for nothing if we can't convince him our cause is worthy.” It was time to bring the ship AI into the planning stage. “Regina, find out everything you can about this individual and locate him. We’ll need information on his security arrangements.”

“I'm on it, boss.”

“Nova and Lehman, conduct a manual search for the same things.”

They gave me a thumbs-up and went to work.

“Yolo, you’re with me. We’re going to talk to Cambridge. Kyn, I need you to observe the interview and look for anything we’re missing.”

Yolo and the Glosser started preparations for an interview.

“Everyone else, start prepping gear and making ready for any scenario.” Decisions made and orders issued, I took a walk through the ship to be alone with my thoughts. We'd come a long way since Earthdale.

* * *

“I feel better with the Soft Touch in orbit,” Nova said.

I looked toward the team, thinking about everything Cambridge had revealed. Yolo had done well. I complimented her work and noted it in her file.

Now the team was just out of earshot on the other end of the shuttle. If we kept our voices low, everyone was afforded a degree of pre-mission privacy. My team was geared up with the best tactical gear available.

I felt like the clock was ticking, which made little sense. This was a low-intensity operation compared to recent events. The sensation that we had stayed too long, pushed our luck too far could not be discounted. “Same. I'm feeling the expanse on this one.”

Her eyes showed recognition. The transit fleet expression had been popular among Breakers. Apparently combat pilots also used it to describe creeping dread. Traveling from one planet to another could be full of awe-inspiring experiences. At the same time, it could feel like a slow descent into madness.

“We can still call it off,” she said.

I bounced my left foot rapidly. Sitting prevented me from pacing but did nothing to relieve the growing tension. “I just want out of the shuttle.” I checked my carabiner rings and rappelling cable. The rig ran through my belt and coiled in a hard case on my back. Weapons and other tools were affixed on the outside of the case. The winch opening had been carefully designed not to interfere with other parts of the armor.

Nova went to do a final pre-combat inspection on the team. I waited until she was done, then checked her work as was expected. None of my previous sergeants accepted my inspections so readily. I understood that Nova was the opposite. She would be seriously annoyed if I shirked my duty.

“Who is ready to rescue a man who doesn’t know he needs rescue?” I asked.

Yolo smiled. “My favorite sport is snatching people off of their bicycles.”

“What's a bicycle?” Omar asked on cue.

“It is a primitive conveyance operated by pedals and physical locomotion.” Kyn played his part perfectly, having learned how to portray the straight man in these joke fests. Everyone loved it.

My knee stopped bouncing, and I felt good. A smile spread across my face. I kept the good feelings under control and mostly out of sight. APOP lieutenants were supposed to remain tough and business-like.

Lights went green above the deployment hatch. I slapped a palm on the frame. “We're one minute out. Remember, we are not unhooking. Drop, grab, and reel in. That's it. Should be the shortest mission ever.”

Each member of the team acknowledged. I kept my worries and doubts private and welcomed the growing confidence that came from who knew where. None of them needed to know how many “simple” snatch-and-grabs I’d done that had gone horribly sideways. In fact, I couldn't remember a single incident where the technique worked as well as it did in training.

Someone's cable always snagged. Or wind blew an operator slightly off target. Or the order to not unhook was either ignored or forgotten until it was too late. Knowing all of that was a good reason for caution—but caution didn’t require timidity.

Morales had taught me that.

Moreover, we had trained diligently—not until we got it right, but until we couldn’t get it wrong. That was always the gold standard. I only wished that real-world conditions didn’t smash aside thorough preparations. Experience could make all the difference.

Long before I joined the APOP, I'd used fast roping techniques to assault targets under heavy enemy fire during one of my planetary assault missions. We'd set a new record for casualties that day but squared the accounts by the end of the battle.

There was no way my squad would face anything like that today. I trusted the prep work my team and my ship AI had put into this.

“Thirty seconds,” Cates said from the cockpit.

“Thanks for the update. Maybe someday I'll let you fly the ship.”

Everyone, including Nova, laughed this time.

Cates responded like he had many times before. “I always fly the ship, boss. Ten seconds. Nine, eight, seven, six, five, four.”

The final three numbers flashed in each of our helmet visors and then the door was open. We flung ourselves into the air sequentially, but it might as well have been simultaneous. We were assholes to elbows as we jumped from the shuttle.

Cates flared power to the grav-coils, arresting our forward progress and hovering just above a middle-aged man looking up in horror. His bike wobbled sideways as he forgot what he was doing and reached for his wrist screen to call for help.

I touched down close enough to slap down his arm. Fathers grabbed from behind and hauled him off of his bicycle. Woods bound him in quick restraints. Omar secured the man to his harness and rocketed back up to the shuttle on his winch.

The rest of the team followed with the efficiency of machines.

I was glad this attempt had been a textbook execution of a snatch-and-grab. First time for everything. There wasn't a moment to congratulate ourselves.

“Cates, get us the hell out of here,” I ordered.

“We’re away,” he said as everyone grew heavy from increasing g-forces.

I gazed across the landscape, wondering what it would be like to live in such seclusion. Humans were rare on Avian Prime. What had this man done to buy a country estate where literally no one would bother him?

The simple life appealed to me, despite my good mood. I had recently located a pair of Avians wanted by Glaynia the Ultar woman and several political factions within the AP. They were injured and non-communicative right when I needed answers. I had a young woman on my ship who was still separated from her family and prospective husband, whom she had never met. Cambridge Bayle, the son of my mentor’s archrival, was bonding with my team and holding back secrets. His mission to purchase FTL data from Lord Havna had earned me a powerful new enemy and now I had this financier for reasons I could only guess at.

Why couldn’t anything be simple?

I had choices to make.

Did I surrender the twins to Glaynia to avoid her wrath or did I have a larger obligation to deliver them to Morales, my mentor and guardian? What about Director Lively?

Should I divert from my mission to fulfill the promise I’d made to Cissi?

Would I send Cambridge back to his father with the financier I knew almost nothing about or interrogate the man and send him home?

The most important decision was actually easy. Coffee. That was the answer to everything.

23

The shuttle canted left as Cates applied more power to the engines and arced toward the atmosphere. I stumbled toward the safety bench and plopped down hard. “I told all of you to strap in!”

Coffee would have to wait.

“That’s solid advice, boss,” Yolo said.

Fathers nodded along somberly. “Real solid, almost like an APOP standard operating procedure. You might even say it’s a safety violation when ignored.”

I was feeling good. Even Nova smiled now, and she’d been just as worried about this side mission as me. “What do you say, Yolo?”

“I like to win.”

The team answered in gruff, adrenaline-charged voices. “Hell yeah.” It wasn’t a shout, nor was it in perfect unison, but suddenly our bond was stronger than it had been for a while.

I’ve been playing not too loose for too long, I thought. It was time to play to win.

Cates’s voice came through my left earpiece. “Fifteen minutes to the Soft Touch. Regina says Cambridge has been asking questions, and Cissi is worried about us.”

“Once you’re clear of planetary patrols, punch it.”

Cates tipped his hat, then focused on flying.

“Ahh. I never get to fly like that,” Yolo said.

Damn I loved this team.

My thoughts drifted to Saint and the other Breakers. Each of us had combat technicians who were like brothers and sisters. We had fought, argued, and ultimately been ready to die for each other.

Dark thoughts couldn’t ruin my mood. I gave Nova a thumbs-up and wondered if she was thinking of old times. Pilots were just as legendary for their team building and excessive celebration. That led me to imagining her hustling Saint at slider pool. That had to happen. The look on his face would be priceless.

“There is a complication.” Regina’s voice sounded peculiar on our private frequency. She was doubling up on encryption.

“Details.”

“Minister Jonas Bayle’s ship has come to a relative stop off our stern. You may recall this is my least favorite place to allow any ship. Even when I was part of the AP military, my stern chaser rail was weak.”

“All right. Alert all hands, quietly. We’ve done nothing wrong and have no reason to worry about Bayle Sr.”

“No comment,” Regina said. “Alerting all agents, specialists, and crew now. How would you like me to inform Henry Saint, Cissi, and Cambridge Bayle?”

“Give them the basics by intercom since they don’t have ear buds.” I reviewed everything I knew about Jonas Bayle, then crossed the small bay to sit on the bench next to the financier. “Good morning, sir. I am Lieutenant Wrath. Alliance of Planets Outworld Police.”

“Logan Vy, but I suppose you know that.”

I nodded somberly.

“Have I done something wrong?” His tone was worried rather than belligerent. “Do you have a warrant? Maybe you should show it to me.”

“This is for your protection,” I said on the fly.

“Oh. Well, then thanks, I guess.” He grew suspicious. “Who is after me? I think I know, but I would like to hear you say it. Because you might be working for him.”

Nova strolled closer, watching the conversation and listening in as best she could. She probably would have been a lot more help if I’d taken the time to plan this out. One look told me she knew something was up and would do her best to follow my lead.

“I think you know who.” I said, then gave a serious look to Nova before returning to Vy. “What’s more, it’s not just one person who wants you, am I wrong?”

He held my gaze but was betrayed by a twitching eyebrow. The moment he mastered it, his hand shook until he lowered it out of sight. “We should talk somewhere private.”

“I agree, but I need certain information now.”

He briefly hesitated. Sweat beaded on his forehead.

“I assure you I am too tired, too ruffled from this entire ordeal.” Vy leaned back and mopped his brow with a handkerchief.

Who carries a handkerchief on a bicycle ride? I pushed aside my consternation. There were only minutes to build rapport and earn this man's trust, a tall order after kidnapping him. “I apologize. With so much at stake, I tend to rush. Is there anything we can do to make this easier? Should we contact your family or household steward?”

“That would be appreciated.” He stowed the handkerchief and looked around the room. In that moment, he revealed more than he meant to. This wasn't some naïve country bumpkin. Vy knew a thing or two about espionage and watching over his shoulder. “In a few hours, someone will miss me and send up an alarm.”

“An alarm?” I asked.

“Well, yes. Maybe not as dramatically as all that, but you take my meaning. When I don't answer my call, there will be a search.”

“Unless you tell them you're okay and there is nothing to worry about.” I demanded his attention by remaining in his personal space, almost as though we were intimate friends.

We both knew otherwise.

“Let's dispense with the games, shall we,” he said. “You know both more and less than you’re claiming, and I am completely baffled at how the APOP is involved in my affairs. Everything I do is legal and aboveboard, if a bit complicated to a layman. It is the scale of my ventures that alarms most people.”

“Interesting. You have my attention.” I glanced at Nova to make sure she was listening to the minutiae of this conversation. She was. I continued. “Let's set some ground rules and agree to help each other. We are on the clock.”

“How do you mean?” He stopped sweating and fully mastered his shaking hands, but a new flavor of concern entered his expression. This was an expert negotiator playing for high stakes.

“Jonas Bayle has his ship parked near mine.”

“You can’t allow Jonas to have me.”

“What about his son?” I asked. “Would he be an adequate host?”

The man hesitated. His eyes sought comfort neither I nor anyone in the room could give him. “Cambridge is better. If that’s the best you can do, send me away with him. I can work with that.”

“I can also put you back on your estate, if that's what you want. I need to know why the Bayles think you're so important.”

“You really don't know me, do you?” He relaxed another notch and sat a bit straighter. His eyes measured me as though seeing me for the first time. “I'm a financier, completely legal.”

“That's the second time you brought up that last point, which makes me suspicious.”

“That's because you're a cop. Nothing good is possible in your world. Everyone is a liar. Whenever someone accumulates wealth, you assume it's ill-gotten gains.” He leaned toward me slightly. “There's nothing wrong with making money, Lieutenant.”

“I never said there was. I'm a fan, in fact, it's just not a big part of what drives me at the moment. A triple homicide investigation has led me into the realm of intergalactic espionage and politics. I have powerful sentients and politicians spouting very different ideas of the sovereignty of the Ultar sector.” I left out a lot of details. Until I understood his part in this affair, it was best to keep him at arm’s length. “What are you trying to say, Vy?”

“I finance colony ships and exploration. I sign the checks that terraform worlds,” he said.

Nova stepped in. “You mean the checks that pay for the technology and manpower that does those things. Words matter, Mr. Vy.”

“Yes. Of course. That goes without saying.”

She kept the financier busy while Regina gave me urgent updates.

“Time is up, boss,” my ship AI said. “Cates is making a run for the Soft Touch. A lesser pilot might not be able to evade interference from Jonas Bayle's fighter wing.”

I nodded along with Nova and Vy, even as I watched a screen behind the man. What I saw wasn't comforting. Icons of multiple ships raced toward us. I hadn't realized Bayle had access to military hardware. That by itself was disturbing. When added to the thickening plot around theoretical FTL technology, Avian negotiators, and a secret financier, it was enough to raise concerns.

“Logan,” I said, using his first name. “If you want to stay out of Bayle's hands, I suggest you cooperate with my squad. In moments, we will be aboard my ship. I will assign my tactical team to your protection while I deal with the minister. Don't give them a hard time.”

“Perhaps I wouldn't be in the situation if you'd left me alone,” he said.

“You don't think they couldn’t have snatched you off your bicycle when you weren't expecting it?”

“Good point. I am at your mercy. That doesn't mean I'm at your command.” He went with Nova, who would stay with him until Faulkner and his commandos could hide him on the Soft Touch.

I went to the bridge the moment Cates landed the shuttle, then gave the all clear to disembark. Striding through the hallway, I picked up Cambridge who appeared about as nervous as a man could.

“Your ship AI is not very helpful, but I understand that my father is close enough to hail on direct comms.” He jogged a step to keep up despite his height.

I didn't answer. He was welcome to join me on the bridge, but I needed to focus. This wasn't a time for a debate.

“Nova, get up here as soon as you’re done with your current assignment,” I said on the supervisor channel. “Faulkner, I need your team on high alert. Sergeant Nova will explain. Once you have them situated, join us on the bridge.”

Nova answered first. “Taking care of that now. Give me five minutes.”

“We've got this covered,” Faulkner assured me.

* * *

Jonas Bayle sat in his command chair like a giant—jackboots spread wide and his palms stretched out on the armrests. His perfect uniform reflected years of prior service but lacked imagination. Every aspect was straight out of an APF field manual. He wore simple military ribbons I assumed he earned. Unlike many politicians who were overly proud of their military service, his awards were at least plausible.

His crew and advisors also carried themselves with military bearing despite working for a civilian minister. I knew he had four void fighters. The aggressive craft had nearly blocked my shuttle from returning to the Soft Touch. It was safe to assume Bayle commanded a well-armed and trained security force drawn from military veterans and elite law enforcement agencies.

I wore utility fatigues with the sleeves rolled up like most fleet infantry preferred. If Bayle had known me better, he might've realized that we had just returned from a raid. Normally, I wore comfortable attire like the rest of my APOP squad. The exception was during search warrant execution or other tactical duties when clothing was likely to be trashed.

“I hope you enjoyed your visit to the surface.” He said one thing. His tone implied another.

“Lovely planet. It's a shame what happened there.” I checked HUD readouts that Regina pushed onto the side of my view screen. She was the best ship AI I'd worked with and often anticipated my needs based on our past experience together. In this instance, I was provided a summary of his activity on Avian Prime.

Most of his effort had been in the city. If he had realized Vy was hiding on a country estate, it was late in the game and my team had already come and gone.

“I can't disagree. There should've never been a war with the Avians. But you know as well as I do that unfortunate misunderstanding doesn't mean we will always have strife when exploring new star systems. Every sentient race is unique,” he said. “History shows most first contacts resolve peacefully, unlike some reactionary public figures claim. We learned from the Avian War. Nothing like that will ever happen again, not in Ultar, or the Razik cluster, or anywhere else.”

“I recommend the complete avoidance of politics,” Regina said in my ear.

“Good call.”

“Excuse me?” Bayle asked. “Are you talking to someone else?”

“Handling something with my ship AI. What can I do for you, minister?”

“My son hasn’t communicated for nearly a day.” He glared into the camera like he believed this was my fault. Suspicious by nature, the man wasn’t the type to forgive and forget. “Could you locate him, please? I certainly hope you didn’t allow some harm to befall him.”

Cambridge moved into camera view but ignored the chairs near mine. He stood at parade rest like a good soldier, like a good son. “Greetings, Father.”

Jonas Bayle went straight to the point. “Did you locate Logan Vy?”

“Locating the man was easy. Securing him… that’s more complicated.”

I regretted allowing Cambridge onto the bridge. One wrong word…

The father focused on the son. “Speak plainly, boy. I can see Breaker is holding back. Did you find the financier or didn’t you?”

“I did.” Cambridge hesitated, but only to stand straighter. “Let me deal with him. Consider it a test. I know more about this aspect of our business than anyone, save you of course, and my loyalty is beyond question.”

Jonas Bayle appeared doubtful and disapproving. I saw several things right away. The father was a hard man who demanded everything and returned nothing to his son. Cambridge Bayle had been struggling to prove himself for his entire life and never quite measured up. Did he strive so mightily out of love and the need to earn respect, or because he knew nothing else?

I’d seen strong men and women break under family pressure. Others suffered in silence even after the ultimate judge of their inadequacies passed into the afterlife. Once in a while, there was a total transformation that led to someone like Jacob Morales—a man who changed lives and inspired loyalty. Neither of the Bayle men would live up to my mentor’s quality.

The odds were against Cambridge Bayle, but I hoped he figured out how to stand on his own. I wasn’t sure I could afford to gamble on his integrity, but time would tell.

“We had problems with Lord Havna,” I said, steering the conversation away from the financier I was hiding on my out-gunned ship.

Jonas narrowed his gaze. “Yes, I heard. There was chaos in the streets. My sources say the APOP sector office is getting bombarded with complaints and demands. I hope you weren’t planning on getting promoted any time soon.”

“I think that transit ship departed a long time ago. Good thing I never want to be a captain anyway.” I shifted the conversation. “Havna had a pair of Avians held prisoner. My mandate is clear when it comes to victims of sentient trafficking. I would do it all over again if I had to.”

Jonas Bayle’s attention grew more intense.

“Talk to me, minister.” I needed the man to put his cards on the table. “No more games.”

He didn’t respond immediately. I could practically see gears working in his head. His intense gaze left me only once, and just for a second to take in the sight of his son still waiting for authorization that wouldn’t come. Jonas Bayle wasn’t ready to turn over even a fraction of real power to his son.

The elder began his pitch like a wolf circling prey. “Your guardian angel isn’t all he seems. Believe me, I’m telling the truth. Do I respect his skill? Of course. Can I accept his interference with aspects of the AP far beyond his mandate as Attorney General? Let me offer a word of warning. In case you haven’t figured this out, he and Director Lively are worse rivals than he and I are. They will grind you to space dust if you get caught between them. Times are changing, Breaker. Choose the correct side while you still can.”

His words struck like a hammer even though I understood what he was doing. I pulled old tricks from my bag, most notably the ability to stay calm and not jump to conclusions. In the void, or while storming an enemy ship, small mistakes could mean disaster—for everyone. It was hard not to fight angry, but oftentimes it was better to remain perfectly calm in the face of the worst danger.

By the time he moved to his next point, I was colder than the void and as calm as the space between planets.

“You are his inside man. Why do you think he nurtured you all these years? There are plenty of retired soldiers. Half of them feed him information or perform favors. What makes you special? Here is how it works. First, he asks you to do things no one would consider questionable—help out a struggling veteran, update him on a case, hide a prisoner that other sections of the government need. Intentionally keep ancient artifacts that could guarantee the future of the Alliance of Planets out of the hands of scientists able to actually understand them. Kidnap a pair of Avian negotiators who could open up trade and colonization within the Ultar sector. That is what he is doing to you right now. Do you even know the untapped wealth of their worlds?”

I said nothing, betrayed nothing. I was just a cop. This was far above my pay grade. Someone needed to sign my overtime and hazardous duty pay request whenever I got around to submitting it.

He continued. “You are Morales’s inside man in the APOP. It doesn’t hurt that you’re popular with the go-getters and top tier agents. He needs someone fearless, and that’s you, 105.”

The guy had that last part all wrong. I was just better at hiding the terror boiling inside. Fearless? Hardly. “Are you asking me for something, or is this an opinion piece?” I looked at my wrist screen. “I really don’t have all day for a political science lecture.”

Bayle leaned in for the attack.

I signaled Regina and Cates to be ready. We needed to break out. It was almost time to leave in a hurry.

“Surrender Logan Vy to my custody. You don’t want to touch him or his business ventures. I’m doing you a favor on this one, trust me. His resources are already committed to a project that I will not see fail no matter his second thoughts or some idiot’s flawed profit and loss projection.” He paused. “Forward all information you learned from your meeting with Lord Havna. Deliver the Avian twins to my custody if you have them.”

“Is that all?” The chance of me giving up the twins was zero. “Normally you have to take someone to dinner before you screw them.”

“Don’t be crass, Lieutenant Wrath.”

“Escape vectors have been plotted,” Regina said in my ear. “Cates and Nova worked with me on this package. It will work.”

I tapped the acknowledgment button on my screen without looking at it.

“You don’t have a choice,” Bayle said. “Now or later, I will have what I want. There are star clusters beyond the Ultar sector. You don’t understand opportunities that await us. When was the last time a new region provided the raw materials to explore the next ten regions? The galaxy is opening to humanity. Now is our time.”

I gambled. “That’s great. How will our ships get there when our transit drives stop working?”

“You are walking a fine line, Lieutenant.”

“I always do.” I checked to make sure my ship and my crew were prepared for departure.

“You don’t know as much about the Ultar star drives as you think. I’m warning you, Breaker—”

Every icon showed green. “I'll be in touch.”

Cates supplied power to the engines, then raced away on a complicated series of rapidly changing vectors. By the time Bayle’s void fighters were in pursuit, the Soft Touch was leaving their effective range. This forced them to return to their launch platforms, and only then could Bayle’s starship begin pursuit.

“We’re going to pay for that,” Nova said.

“Totally worth it. He talks too much.” I remained on the bridge until we were clear, then summoned Cambridge and Nova into a private meeting.

24

“I can’t,” Cambridge said.

That wasn’t good enough. Nova agreed with me. I could see mistrust of the man on her face and in her crossed-arm posture.

He paced, stopped, and tried again. “Keeping Logan Vy from my father is possible, but it means finding someone more powerful than my father or your mentor to provide a long-term solution. I have spent two years auditing Vy’s accounts, which brought me to his money trail. I shouldn’t have informed my father, but I wanted to prove myself. Now it is up to me to make amends.”

I couldn’t help Cambridge. Not with this. He seemed like an all right guy for a child of privilege. At the end of the day, the man needed to stand on his own. No one could help him even though a failure on his part would have dire consequences for everyone—or that’s what my instincts warned.

“None of that matters,” he said. “There is only one option, and you can’t take it. Regardless of what you or my father or anyone else thinks, Logan Vy is the key to everything. Even without the secrets to the Ultar’s FTL technology, he could save us.”

“You’re gonna have to go deeper. Tell us everything.” I saw something in Cambridge. His true self was showing, and it hadn’t surrendered to corruption. “Why is Vy important, and why should I trust you? I can keep him safe better than you can.”

“Not if my father thinks you stole the Ultar tech from under his nose. He won’t stop until your ship has been torn apart and every member of your squad interrogated. He’ll stash you on separate planets and spend years breaking you down. You will want to answer his questions by the time it’s over.”

“You don’t know the lieutenant very well,” Nova said.

I moved closer. “Sounds like I should take what I have, who I have, and what I know and disappear into the void.”

This time, Cambridge watched, waited, and listened. He was learning.

“You’re a good man, Cambridge. Do the right thing.” I could have said more. Perfect words floated just out of reach. I let my statement stand rather than fumble through a long speech.

He nodded thoughtfully, then spoke in a low voice that grew stronger. “I will steal Logan Vy. You’ll try to stop me, but it will be too late. My ship will be on its way to the Bear sector with the intent to rendezvous with my father’s assets once I’ve slipped the infamous Breaker 105 and his crew.”

Nova’s expression darkened.

I held up one hand to forestall her response, then stared Cambridge down.

He continued. “Lucky me, I also managed to make off with the Avian twins and the Ultar discs. Anyone who knows what is at stake will pursue immediately.”

“But you won’t have any of that,” I said.

He shook his head and lowered his gaze. “I want to convince you I’m trustworthy, but there isn’t time. Maybe this will earn your respect in the future.”

“Your father and a lot of other people will be furious,” Nova observed.

Cambridge laughed nervously. “I will be out of a job and an inheritance. But you know what, I need this. How else will I be forced to stand on my own?”

“How close is your ship?” I asked.

Cissi burst into the room, tears streaming down her face. She shoved past Nova and started dragging at my arm. “They’re dying! He did something to them. I know he did.”

“Who’s dying? What are you talking about?” I grabbed her by the shoulders.

She pulled me toward the door, or tried to. “The twins. It’s poison. You have to come.”

Nova caught my attention. “I’ll handle this with Cambridge. Go.”

Cissi led the way until I rushed by her and arrived at the medical bay first. Lehman, Kyn, and Fathers worked frantically to stop the twins from seizing.

Fay spotted me and reached out. “Lieutenant, help us.”

I knelt beside her and took her hands in mine. “How? Tell me what to do.”

“We shouldn’t have left the planet. He warned us.” She twisted toward her brother, distracted by his cry of pain.

“Tell me about that,” I said, not wanting to ask leading questions, though I sensed she knew exactly what was wrong.

“Lord Havna said that if we left the planet, an engineered virus would kill us without the antidote. He promised to give it to us if we did what he wanted.” She gritted her sharp teeth against a full body tremor, then calmed slightly when her brother’s misery lessened.

“I don’t believe him,” Borm said. “Once we comply, he will throw us into the darkness.”

“Tell me details, Fay.” I glanced at my agents to make sure they were listening. All eyes were on the suffering Avians.

“Lord Havna wears a vial on a chain around his neck. It contains the antidote. He taunted us with it.” Taking action renewed her strength. “We are not weak and compliant. Do not judge us by our captivity.”

“I’ll be making the same request if this goes wrong.”

She regarded me as no one had ever dared. We were different versions of sentient life, but in that moment, I understood the details were inconsequential. “You are going to help us—really help us.”

“Yep.” A familiar mixture of excitement and dread filled my soul.

She smiled and it was the most amazing thing I’d experienced for a long time. “You have no concern for your own safety.”

“Pump the brakes, Fay. I am my favorite person. Keeping my broken-down old butt alive is job one in my book. How else can I drink coffee and watch my squad punish themselves with Yolo’s lasagna.”

“You don’t believe that. There is someone you would die for to grant them one extra hour of life. Tell me I am wrong.”

I thought of Katrina Snow, Saint, Boomer, Kalchev, and everyone in my squad. “Don’t give me too much credit. Tell me as much as you can about this vial and how I can take it from Havna.”

* * *

There wasn’t time for a leisurely walk around the Soft Touch, but I did a few laps to clear my head. Rushing to failure was never a good idea. Once I was balanced, focused, and committed, nothing could stop me. Fathers, Woods, Omar, and Lehman unpacked Breaker 105 and inventoried the crates of parts and accessories that came with it. They were under strict orders not to put anything together or play with things that could kill them and everyone on the ship.

Saint’s claims about the Ultar and their advanced FTL disturbed my thoughts. I needed to remember, but not allow dread to cloud my judgment or leech my motivation. Something about the revelation and what it had done to my friend filled me with hopelessness. No wonder he’d surrendered to his meanest vices. This void trash was stressful.

Transit technology had brought humanity all the way from the Milky Way and allowed exploration of Andromeda. Neither galaxy was fully explored, but that would come in time, or so we believed. A shudder ran through me at the thought of this dream being lost forever. Which star system would I chose when all practical ability to travel between heliospheres vanished? What would that mean for future generations?

According to my tortured friend, the Ultar tech came at a horrible price. If I understood his ranting, and if he was right, the sentients were often forced to sacrifice one of their navigators to the mind-rending calculations required to travel almost instantaneously. So many questions arose from that speculation. Didn’t they have computers? If they did, why didn’t they use them? What about mind-enhancing drugs that were so popular in science fiction stories?

Why weren’t they sweeping across the Andromeda galaxy, conquering anyone who defied them?

Once my mind and body were warmed up, I headed for the deployment bay with butterflies in my gut. Years had passed since I last saw the inside of a rig. No one on my squad understood the dangers of using the machine without a qualified combat technician. Nothing would work efficiently. Things would break. My control of weapons, tools, and even navigational screens would be unpredictable and dangerous to everyone around me.

Regina beeped politely in my ear. “Hey, boss, you have an incoming message from Jacob Morales that I can’t screen.”

I stopped in the middle of the hallway. “Put him through, unless I need to be on the bridge for this.”

“He didn’t specify,” Regina said. “Connection in three: three, two, one, you’re live.”

“Breaker.” Morales looked older and tired. “I need a progress report and it can’t be anything other than you found the twins and are en route to deliver them.”

“I have them, but there is a complication.”

He waved that away, read something from a screen an off-camera subordinate held up and repeated his demand. “You are about to get an order from APOP Director Lively and APF Admiral Chan to turn them over. Neither will accept compromise, and they have no intention of sharing these assets.”

My blood pressure increased, but I held back my instinctive response.

“What is the complication?” he asked.

“They were poisoned. Without the antidote, they will die.”

He thought for several seconds, then soldiered onward. “Turn them over to me, then secure the remedy and bring it. I’ll tell you where once you have it. Everything will happen fast. You may have to fight. Now is the time to pick sides.”

“What are my options?” A hint of annoyed sarcasm slipped into my tone. “I thought we all worked for the citizens of the AP.”

He didn’t bother to argue the point, but his expression spoke volumes. My mentor wasn’t in the mood for that discussion.

I didn’t like being pushed into a corner. “The twins will die.”

He waved away my concerns. “I have a great medical team. We can sustain them until you bring the cure.”

“What if I can’t find it or take it?”

His eyes narrowed. “Who has it?”

“Lord Havna.”

“I know of him, but we’ve never met. My contacts will reach out and set up a meeting.”

“He already tried to murder my entire squad. He’s a crusader of some sort. You can’t bargain with him. Push too hard, and it will be another war.” My plan seemed reckless but still better than AP warships surrounding Avian Prime and demanding compliance from a powerful local lord.

“My negotiators are good, and so are my special operations teams,” Morales said. “If they can’t buy it, they’ll steal it. Either will take time.”

“I don’t think we have much of that.”

He ordered everyone out of his comm room, then gave me a look I hadn’t seen since the Transit Wars. “Go down there and take it. Use any means necessary. The survival of the AP depends on your success.”

Why did I resent his order to do exactly what I was going to do anyway? My stomach tightened. For the first time, it seemed I barely knew the man. I felt completely alone. The words of Jonas Bayle crept into my thoughts. Images of Glaynia glowed brightly in my imagination. I heard Lord Havna shouting to kill us.

I ended the call without responding to his order, because that was what it had been, despite his lack of authority to issue it. Director Lively was the only person in this scenario in my chain of command.

“Regina, block all incoming transmissions. We seem to be having technical difficulties.”

“You are very perceptive, boss. Nothing is working in the comm relays. I will get it fixed ASAP and enter my efforts in the AI log.”

“Thanks, Regina.”

“Good luck with that rig,” she said. “I worry you will run into trouble without a combat technician.”

“You’re the best, Regina.” I altered course for the deployment bay. “Check on my squad and make sure they’re not putting anything on 105.”

“Of course.” She added video images to my wrist screen, which was too small to be useful, but the thought meant something. “I would feel better if you had three additional drivers and four CTs.”

“You and me both.”

25

What surprised me when I arrived was Cissi’s outfit. She had begged, borrowed, or stole utility fatigues and modified them to accommodate her wings. This wasn’t the look of a young woman heading to reunite with her family. She was decked out for something entirely more adventurous.

In this light, the vibrant color spectrum of the feathers was something to see. I wasn’t sure how she didn’t command more attention from her people, because the sight of her was majestic despite her diminutive size.

Nova caught the direction of my gaze and cocked an eyebrow. “She’s really something.”

“Why is she here? Did someone tell her she was part of the crew now?”

Nova leaned close. “She wants to go with you. Her argument is sound. You might need a translator and she will only be a liability if we have to defend the ship against boarders. You can take care of her.”

“Not a chance.” I strode to my rig and planted my fists on my hips. The exterior had been polished before going into storage and again when my team pulled it out of the crate. Parts gleamed. Nothing could hide chipped paint, grooves in the metal, and other evidence of hard use, however. “Look at this glorious hunk of wires and metal.”

“The power plant is impressive, despite the availability of newer technology,” Kyn said. “Clean lines, a very sensible design.”

I slapped a hand down on his shoulder. “It sure is. Better yet, you listened to instructions. You did, didn’t you? Follow instructions?”

The Glosser’s face reddened in mild embarrassment, which also meant his hair ruffled slightly, just for an instant. “We examined all the parts we could.”

“I’m sure you did.”

“We could have attached weapons,” Woods said for the group. “A rail is a rail no matter the firing platform.”

“Not a good idea.”

Lehman joined in. “I read the manual three times and worked through training simulations Regina provided. There is nothing to prevent us from performing technician work, especially if we work as a team—which we always do.”

Unsure how to answer, I hesitated.

Nova crossed her arms. The squad fell in behind her to form a united and very skeptical front.

“CTs do more than set up the gear. They keep it running no matter what happens. I’ve hopped on one leg in this thing. Snow made a prosthetic in the middle of a battle out of a forklift and binding tape. She knew everything about the rig, and me. More importantly, she had access to every system.”

Lehman moved to the front and became the spokesperson for the group. His analytical nature made him the natural student of the Breaker system. “Can’t you give us access?”

I shook my head. “Snow couldn’t even do that. One of the reasons Breakers are out of service is that the engineers who built them didn’t want them hacked. Every interface is high-level encryption and proprietary technology.”

“Sounds like built-in job security,” Lehman said, rubbing his chin in thought.

“There’s more to it. Tech-ing for a rig like this is a combination of science and art.

Nova stared straight into my face. “Too bad you don’t know where Snow is.”

“She’s on Jenna’s World.”

“Are you sure?” My sergeant knew me well. We had come a long way since the triple homicide investigation. She wasn’t just asking a question. She was testing me for honesty while at the same time probing my psychology.

“One hundred percent,” I said.

“Based on what?”

“I saw a mural I think she painted.” I toured the rig, adjusting connections and one-way pressure valves as I went. “She wanted to be a painter.”

None of my crew commented, which meant something. On most days, this would have been a good chance to hang trash on me, crack jokes, or just hound me for details about the Breaker 105 days. They watched and waited instead. The moment was portentous.

I was about to open a door that couldn’t be easily closed. Piloting the most dangerous mech in the Alliance of Planets had stopped being a necessity the moment the Avian War ended. Every member of the Breaker Corps had surrendered their machines and requested discharge from the military.

This wasn’t a good idea. I didn’t want things to go back to the way they had been. I didn’t realize I had stopped moving or talking for several minutes.

Nova stood by me. “The Avians are dying. Our ship is about to be boarded by at least two hostile forces who should be helping us but will attack instead. You don’t have a choice. Get the antidote. Get out of there before you start a war. Then we’ll take the twins someplace safe and decide what to do next.”

I nodded as clarity returned. My mandate was simple. A pair of sentients had been done an injustice and were dying as the result of Lord Havna’s criminal behavior.

It was time for corrective action. The APOP could fire me and throw me in jail later.

“All right,” I said to my team. “Listen up. You will help me climb in and close the shell around me. Don’t touch anything I don’t tell you to.”

Lehman again took the lead. “Understood.” Nova, Fathers, Woods, Kyn, Yolo, and Omar arrayed themselves behind him.

“Just stop,” Saint said as he sauntered into the deployment bay. “I’m in no shape to pilot that rig, but I can help strap you in and point your aiming sensors the right way.”

I gave my APOP crew a look that said “don’t tell him about the other rigs.”

He stopped right in front of me, then hit me with a troublemaker’s smile. “I would even ride in your CT’s pod to the surface if I didn’t know how you drive.”

We exchanged a soldier’s hand clasp, laughter, and a flashback to days past.

He lowered his voice. “Let me take it down there.”

“Not a chance.”

“It was worth a try.”

I slapped him on the back, faced my squad, and told myself I shouldn’t be excited for this. But I was, and it was going to be awesome.

“New orders. Don’t touch anything Saint doesn’t tell you to.” I climbed into 105 and strapped in. My hands slipped into steering gauntlets as my feet went into boots. Saint and the others closed everything up, and soon I felt like I was part of the machine. More importantly, it was part of me. Holy void hell, I was Breaker 105.

Five view screens came to life, then quickly arranged themselves in order of priority. The main view was forward, but that could change if I needed to have eyes in the back of my head—or wherever. Galgus, our training sergeant, had once forced us to run an obstacle course with only our elbow cameras activated. We’d looked like a bunch of mechanical clowns, arms pointed this way and that as we ran and jumped and climbed in reduced gravity.

Each screen seemed to float a half meter before me when I thought about their locations. If I relaxed, the experience was different, almost like it was inside my head and I just knew what was there. Snow and a few of the combat techs were the only non-drivers who understood the description. This was one aspect of driving a rig that made it feel like part of your body. A gestalt amalgamation of sensory input made the controls feel like telepathy, which they definitely weren’t.

What I saw was an optical illusion supported by neural connections. The original versions had needles shunted into the back of the driver’s skull. This model worked on skin-to-machine contact. Every part of my under-suit contained embedded sensors.

Getting slammed around could cause a loss of contact in one area, but it was always maintained someplace. Saint used to say he was connected to his rig’s computer by the crack of his ass most of the time, which might have been true. There were some questions you just didn’t ask. The man had put his rig through the paces, never encountering a chasm he wouldn’t leap, a door he wouldn’t smash, or a squad of enemy soldiers he wouldn’t engage.

The scarecrow Breaker looked up at me once everything was in order on the outside of 105. Entire conversations could occur with just a look. He understood more than my squad assumed. I had underestimated him as well. In my mind, he'd become little more than a wasted shell of the man I had once known.

Maybe that was true but I doubted anything was clear-cut when it came to Henry Saint. How could he be as steadfast and indefatigable as an approaching comet while also too distracted to worry about shaving, eating, or attending to even the simplest rules?

I filed that for later and addressed the final decision I needed to make before deploying. “Cissi wants to ride in the CT pod.”

“Why?” Saint asked.

“She can negotiate with the locals and keep me out of trouble once I'm back on the planet.”

He shrugged. “She's probably not wrong. I say let her go as long as she doesn't try to pretend she's a combat technician.”

I laughed uncomfortably.

“You really shouldn't be doing this without Snow or somebody like her,” he said. “I heard she was on Jenna's World or Maltrax doing murals.”

“Jenna's World, I think.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “Where did you get this thing, anyway?”

“Don't worry about it.”

“You better go, brother. I'll look after your squad,” he said.

“They'll look after you, I think.” I stood to the machine’s full height, checked the mobility of my hands and arms, then stepped back. “Cissi, if you're coming, get in the pod and I will attach it to my back.”

She looked to Nova, who gave her a nod. Moments later she was scrambling inside. Saint checked the locking mechanism and gave me a thumbs-up.

I returned the gesture, then established comms with Cissi. “Can you hear me okay?”

“Yes, Breaker. I read you loud and clear. Is that what I'm supposed to say?”

“Just speak normally and I'll figure it out. Don't activate any of the tools, electronic or otherwise. Those are for a combat technician and are far more complicated than they appear.”

“Okay.” She sounded younger now, less certain.

I moved to the deployment hatch. Nova cleared everyone from the bay and activated the pressurization controls.

“Agent Woods and Yolo told me you haven’t driven this machine in years,” Cissi said.

I smiled. She couldn’t see it. “Driving this rig feels more natural than walking without it.”

“Are you scared you will never want to climb out of it?” she asked. “If I could be invincible, I don’t know I would ever leave.”

The girl had been in the CT pod five seconds and struck straight to the heart of every Breaker’s soul. I felt indestructible. Thoughts came easier. Just the right amount of confidence flowed through my veins.

“Eventually I’ll want coffee,” I said. “Maybe with coffee cake.”

Her laugh was music. “How do you eat in here?”

“Nutrients can be administered intravenously but I’m not set up for that today. I can sip fluids through a tube but that isn’t the same as relaxing on the observation deck. Hold on a second.”

“Holding on, Breaker.”

I addressed Nova and the others moments after Sergeant Faulkner and his team leaders arrived. “I just sent critical mission details to each of you. This won’t be a traditional fight. We’re in a gray area, but let me assure you, now isn’t the time to surrender the twins or anything we’ve obtained during this assignment to anyone—not Captain Jensen, not your personal commanders, not Director Lively, not even AG Morales. If you can’t carry out the orders I’m giving you, Sergeant Nova will escort you to a room where you will remain for the rest of the encounter. Regina will restrict your movements on the ship.”

No one spoke.

“This is my ship, my team, and I take all responsibility for what happens next. This will pass, but until we’ve secured the antidote for the Avian twins, nothing else matters. If my superiors take the twins without it, they will die and the entire AP will be plunged into a war like we’ve never known.” I wanted to drive home the point with details and examples, but had neither the time nor the skill at oration. My HUD displays showed everyone at their assigned places. “Who can’t or won’t defend the Soft Touch?”

Faulkner looked to each of his subordinates. None of them backed down. For now, they were good to go. I hoped they could hold the line.

I switched to the supervisor only channel, which Cissi could now hear because she was in the CT pod. “We’ll be right back. Avoid a fight if you can, but do not betray the twins.”

“You can count on us, Breaker,” Nova said, then saluted. Faulkner and the others came to attention and joined her.

I pressed my Breaker fist to where my visor would be if I wasn’t relying completely on cameras to see. The salute was monstrous, but had the desired effect. My investigative squad and the nonmilitary combat specialists cheered the moment I dropped my rig’s fist.

“Let’s go teach Lord Havna a lesson,” I said, just for Cissi. She wasn’t my combat tech, but old habits were hard to break.

26

“I can’t wait,” Cissi said, “though I think you will be a better instructor than I. Just don’t forget about me. I know Avians better than you, even if I am an outcast.”

“We’ll fix that too.” The words escaped before I knew what I was talking about. She didn’t reply and I got the feeling she wasn’t in a hurry to find a domestic life on Avian Prime. Neither her suitor nor any member of her family had come to greet her at the starport. There was more to her story. I hope it ended well and that I could be there when she found her happiness.

Right now, I had work to do.

The deployment bay opened the moment all other personnel were clear. Avian Prime waited below. It looked like I could step out of the ship directly onto the planet. Cissi whispered in her language, awe filling every word.

I located the shuttle locked in tandem at the keel. At first glance, the small ship was invisible. No one on the Soft Touch from my crew or any other had ever used the shuttle. Regina assured me it was in prime condition. The reason for its neglect was simple. There were no amenities. On a corvette like the Soft Touch, it was for moving freight to and from the surface of a planet or large asteroid. It could deploy from the regular launch bay, but normally remained where it was less of a burden to maintain.

On a battleship, there would have been dozens of similar vessels, each designed for a specific Breaker rig.

“We’ve taken defensive positions. Regina has detected two groups of three assault shuttles heading our way,” Nova said. “Good luck, Breaker. Don’t dilly dally down there.”

“Is that a word?” I joked.

“Two words.” Nova sent me a digital message as well. Keep your head on a swivel. Keep Cissi safe.

I acknowledged with the press of a button. The trick was to use the hands to type without relaying the motion to the synced rig hands. The skill came back like I’d never stopped using it.

“Nova.”

“I’m listening.”

“This is war. Do you understand?”

A pause preceded her answer. “Yes.”

“Do not surrender the twins. I gave the order to everyone. I’m counting on you to appreciate the true consequences of failure.”

“We’re operating on partial information,” she said. “But I’ve got more than enough to trust your decision. You can count on me.”

“I’ll be back before the fighting starts if I have my way.”

She laughed at that. “See you soon, Breaker.”

I climbed into the freight shuttle, wearing the simple vehicle like a blanket over my rig. There wasn’t much room for anything else. The hull closed around me, but just barely. For atmospheric re-entry, this was important. If I had been traveling between ships, four rigs could cling to the exterior while a squad of infantry rode inside. Heading to the planet made that impossible. The heat of penetrating atmosphere would cook even the toughest rig.

“Here we go.” I punched the shuttle release button. Moments later, I was heading for the stratosphere with Cissi on my back and the shuttle vibrating from the increasing gravity and friction.

Cameras shut down as the exterior began to glow. This was a primitive way to reach the surface. A thrill went through me. Cissi whooped like she was on the galaxy’s most exhilarating amusement park ride.

I cut power once we achieved an adequate deployment vector, decreasing the chances we would be detected as anything other than a meteor. Atmosphere buffeted the shuttle. The Breaker smoothed the ride to something like a normal landing. Cissi would be having a slightly rougher time of it, but she benefited from the rig’s inertial dampeners as well.

Avian Prime was glorious to behold when the cameras came back online. The planet, like most, appeared perfect and whole from this altitude. Clouds rushed up, and we were blind again, but not for long.

I activated the freight shuttle’s engines and steered for Lord Havna’s waterfront estate. Regina’s scans of planetary comm traffic suggested the man wouldn’t be in the city but at this special campus. I watched the caravan of armored cars wind along the coast and wondered if they would look up before I reached the target.

One shuttle among thousands of launches and landings shouldn’t register with planetary security. Launching back to the Soft Touch might be dicey, but that was a problem for later. “Cissi, was this place in the Avian action movies?”

“Many times. Usually during the romantic interlude. Beach scenes, bonfires on the sand, and sharing riddles with dolphins.”

“Sounds like a human show minus the last part.” I adjusted course. “I would like to see that, though.”

“Have you ever wondered why dolphins are on so many worlds so far apart?” She asked. “I think about that a lot.”

“Great. Now I will too. Hold on. This is going to feel rough.”

“Aren’t we going to sneak into his manor house?”

“Not in this thing. I don’t want to smash the place up and have it featured in the next Avian movie blockbuster. I’m going to hit the convoy. Check the center screen in your pod. Do not touch anything else. The middle section will allow you to run scans and searches, and communicate. Your job is to keep Havna busy. I don’t want him to know what I’m after, and I don’t want to create a galactic incident.”

Butterflies went crazy in my gut. If my opponent went public with what was about to happen, there would be consequences.

“Um, Breaker? There are ships chasing us from space,” Cissi said.

I cursed before muting the channel.

“Ouch, Breaker. You have a lot of unresolved issues if I understand your language. Oh, wait. That’s profanity. Galactic Standard grammar follows different rules.”

“Sorry.” I added two tactical screens to my optical display, one for each set of atmosphere capable fighters racing in my direction. “I’m sending you a list of instructions.”

She read quickly. “I’m not going to eject! What would I do in a pod like this on a planet where I’m not supposed to be?”

“Float.” I steered hard. Enemy pursuit accelerated my time schedule. I needed to get the antidote before I was fighting three groups of adversaries at once. “Regina, how copy?”

“Loud and clear, boss.”

“Do you have the bandwidth to assist us?”

“Of course.” She added a screen in my peripheral vision so that a glance could bring it into focus. “I partitioned as much processing power as possible. I knew you would call.”

“You’re the best, Regina.”

“Thank you, boss. Now please alter course. The convoy is a trap. You must not attack them in the open.” She displayed an additional screen showing a rocket battery several kilometers inland. Long-range weapons stood ready and probably had firing solutions preprogrammed.

Havna was smarter than I thought. He was ready, and so were his soldiers.

Options danced in my head. Cissi would only help if we were lost where her knowledge of Avian Prime could help more than orbital mapping from Regina could, or where she could talk to the locals. I knew bringing her had been the right decision, I just didn’t know why yet. My rationalizations seemed less convincing than they had been on the Soft Touch.

“Incoming attack,” Regina warned, then displayed one fighter well ahead of the others. I thought it had been sent to slow me down, distract me while the others lined up perfect shots.

I separated from the shuttle before it landed, allowing it to drift sideways and set down using emergency settings. All shuttles had life pod mode. This automated the landing sequence in the event passengers were unconscious or too severely wounded to operate controls. It also allowed for the freight shuttle to deliver its cargo in drone mode. That function got used frequently in this model, and was both tested and reliable.

“Listen carefully, Cissi. I am about to dislodge the pod. You need to move away from it the moment it opens. Stay close to the freight shuttle, but not close enough to take damage if they attack it.”

“Okay. I’m a little nervous.”

“Don’t be. This is super easy. Just wish they hadn’t disrupted my attack on Havna’s caravan.” That was a lie, because according to Regina’s orbital view, all hell would have come down on us the moment I tried to tear the Avian lord out of his armored limousine.

“Regina, give me an orbital view screen.”

One of my unused viewing areas began tracking the convoy.

“Perfect,” I said. “Now dedicate one to Cissi.”

“I can take care of myself,” she complained.

“Sure. I just want to see how you do it.”

“What. Ever.”

I liked her growing attitude. The fear and excitement was leveling off. She would be okay on her own for a while. I didn’t think she would try to get into the fight and thus get herself killed. The low probability she would start trouble made her the best choice available, at least for now.

My feet hit the ground. I ran without hesitation. The pod fell away, bounced, and opened on its side. My Cissi screen showed her dashing into the woods—away from the shuttle and the pod.

“Don’t worry about that now, boss,” Regina said. “The lead ship is firing rockets.”

“Damn, I was hoping he would go with micro-rails.” I slid down the side of a hill, then converted the motion into another sprint along a stream bed. Water splashed as high as the treetops. Animals bolted away from the chaos of my advance.

Explosions turned forest and turf to flying debris behind me. I adjusted my helmet volume and shrank the screen showing the attack. It was behind me and no longer mattered.

The fighter rocketed past me. The rest of its squadron came at me from an eighty-degree angle, leaving no doubt about how much of the landscape they were willing to destroy to take me out. Part of a hillside exploded skyward. Trees, rocks, and soil expanded upward and outward from a dozen impact craters.

“They shoot, they miss,” I muttered as I dropped out of sight and looked for a new route to intercept Havna’s glide car.

“Would you like me to taunt them?” Regina asked.

I heard a slight glitch in her voice. She was overloaded. The battle to defend the Soft Touch must also be underway.

“No need, Regina. That’s the combat tech’s job. Since I don’t have one, we’ll just keep this skirmish professional.” I spotted the caravan, but it was too far ahead of me now.

The second group of fighters rose over the hill I was approaching and hovered with every rail gun they had shimmering in the failing sunlight. I couldn’t read their markings, and my rig didn’t scan their identity numbers—which meant they were pirates or black ops. That could mean Admiral Chan sent them, or it could mean I was in even deeper than I’d imagined. There were a dozen APF divisions with their own commandos, and there were corporate entities nearly as powerful as the military. None of them were forces to take lightly.

I crawled on my belly, glad Sergeant Galgus had put every Breaker trainee through exercises that had seemed ridiculous at the time. Why would a badass mech need to low crawl along a stream bed?

Now I knew.

Planetary operations weren’t unknown to me, but they had been far less common than ship-to-ship actions or asteroid assaults. I poured on the speed, took the first fork in the waterway I could find, and was soon wading waist deep in a fast-moving current.

“This… will take you… near…” Regina’s message broke up from planetary interference and the load she was under defending the ship.

I didn’t dare ask Nova for an update. She was probably as busy as my ship AI.

“I found a hiding place,” Cissi said. Her voice was as clear as my own. The rig was made to function without assistance from a ship. Normally, I would rely solely on the rig, my abilities, and my combat technician. Today was an exercise in desperate improvisation.

As if on cue, a malfunction warning marked my left leg as damaged. A quick scan showed I had taken a rail strike near the knee.

Numbers displayed eighty-three percent. I could still run and jump. Further damage was to be avoided if I wanted to keep my best dance moves.

“Stay where you are and try to see the battle without being seen.”

“I can do that.”

27

I moved steadily up a wide hill, cameras scanning the sky for ships, feet churning up turf. It wouldn’t be hard for them to follow me once they came across my trail. Moving beneath tree cover helped but wasn’t a perfect solution. I needed air superiority that I would never get on this planet.

Regina no longer answered my queries. I crouched under an ancient oak analog and typed frantically. There wasn’t time for this, but without help from my ship AI or a CT, I had no other choice. Nothing had gone according to plan. Havna’s caravan made it to his country stronghold despite loitering in hopes of drawing me into the rocket brigade ambush.

Ambush. That was a word that couldn’t be ignored.

“Where are you, Havna?” I doubted the man had gone inside and closed the door, maybe turned on his favorite viewer and cracked open a beer like it had been just another day in the office.

I froze as a patrol raced overhead at supersonic speeds. The ships had no more permission to operate in the atmosphere of Avian Prime than I did. I suspected they had orders to eliminate or capture me before local authorities arrived.

A new squadron of ships came over the horizon, confirming my theory. Scans showed them as Avian Prime Planetary Defense Force jets. Some pilots scoffed at ships incapable of void travel, but I knew these were not to be taken lightly. In many ways, they were superior for their specialized weapons, engines, and design. They did one thing, and did it well—dominate the skies of this planet.

Behind them came helicopters, often better than anti-grav ships for search and destroy missions. These could extend wings, retract rotors, and operate as passable jet fighters or low-altitude surveillance vehicles, depending on what was needed.

I crept below canopies of tree branches and leaves, moving slowly to minimize my heat signature and kinetic disruption. More ships patrolled the area. Ground vehicles belonging to both Havna’s private security and local defense forces cruised along highways and back roads looking for me. I barely moved for an hour.

This was taking too long. I could have walked to Havna’s stronghold without the Breaker rig. What I would have done then was a question, but understanding didn’t alleviate my frustration.

“Breaker.” Cissi sounded out of breath.

“Where are you?” Suddenly, leaving her alone seemed like the worst decision I could have made.

“I’m fine,” she said with false levity. “How are you? Have you been discovered by the patrols surrounding the freight shuttle? I’m good. No problems here.”

I cursed.

“Four helicopters landed around the shuttle and deployed soldiers. Three groups began searching immediately. I saw armored cars heading that way too.”

“Where are you now?” I asked.

“I’m following these really big tracks along a stream bed.” She huffed as she performed a strenuous task. “Someone should clean up these fallen trees. A girl could get hurt stomping around out here.”

“True.” I refreshed my scan of Havna’s stronghold on the next hilltop. Canyons stretched away from the mesa-like hillcrest.

“Good news,” she said. “Do you want it?”

“Absolutely. Just to switch it up. You found the antidote and a new escape ship would be nice.”

“Not quite. The water is hiding your tracks in most places. If they’re smart, they’ll wonder why the stream is so muddy, but at least it’s not totally obvious you came that way.” She stopped and went silent for several seconds. “I hear them. Sooner or later, they’re going to catch up to us.”

“Don’t come this way.”

“No choice,” she said and sounded like she was running.

I dialed in the extra-orbital view from the Soft Touch. Forest images resolved under magnification, then scrambled. Regina sent me a text only message. Moving beyond planetary range to evade enemy ships.

Fantastic. Best mission ever.

* * *

The sight of Cissi jogging across the clearing was a relief. She had her wings clenched so tightly to her back that it was difficult to tell she was Avian from this distance. It struck me that her utility fatigues were in surprisingly good condition, almost as though she smoothed the fabric and dusted herself off whenever she had a chance. I zoomed in on the tree line behind her, expecting a dozen of Havna’s soldiers in pursuit.

Nothing burst from the trees. No one shouted challenges. But the day was young, and I expected the worst—because why not? This mission was spiraling out of control. Which seemed to be a trend. Crime fighting was a lot more involved these days.

My planet map showed the freight shuttle icon, but I had no image of the location. Nor did I have more than a basic map of the canyons between here and Lord Havna’s estate. They looked like a tangle of shadows and dead ends.

The day was dying. Bugs drifted into the breezeless air. Warm sunlight portrayed a peaceful, idyllic place being disturbed by Cissi’s passage. Nothing would feel better than sitting down to rest, maybe with a cold drink and music.

I checked the mission clock; seven hours had passed. Nova and the others would be dead or captured unless they had been able to outmaneuver the boarding craft and delay the inevitable for as long as possible.

I didn’t envy them. Defending a ship was tough work. Add the self-doubt of fighting against friends and colleagues while defying orders from your boss’s boss was too much to ask of anyone. Tension crept up the back of my neck. The mother of all guilt-related headaches followed.

Good job, Breaker. Strong work. Way to put your team in jeopardy.

What in the devil’s top deck was I doing here? Was the antidote worth my entire team? My ship? All of our careers?

Cissi slipped into the trees and walked the rest of the way to my hiding place. Crouched as low as I could, bushes and tree branches concealed me well. Until I expended energy to move, the rig was invisible to all but the most advanced scans—or a ground search by skilled soldiers.

“Sit. Have a drink.” I said, offering her a water tube from my rig.

She drank greedily, then splashed some on her face before evaluating the little clearing I’d made my temporary base. Then, with a self-conscious but relieved expression, she stretched her wings.

“Ahh. That’s better. I’m sweating my backside off.”

“Your wings are for cooling?”

“Among other things.” She drank again, then released the water tube to watch it spool back into my rig. Before long she was picking leaves and burrs from her pants, then smoothing them until it appeared she hadn’t yet stepped foot in the wilderness. “I’ve been thinking about how we get to Havna.”

“Tell me your plan, and I’ll tell you mine.” I didn’t think she realized she was so fastidious. For some reason, witnessing this aspect of her personality, in this environment, made me smile.

Her hands became expressive as she talked excitedly. “Now look, you won’t like all of my idea, but listen until the end and tell me what you think. Your rig, Breaker, is unstoppable but can’t fight off Havna’s entire security force, and let’s face it, cops and planetary defense forces are everywhere now. You can’t steal the antidote from Havna without doing a lot of collateral damage and creating a galactic incident. Nobody wants that.”

I waited. If my screens had anything to distract me, I might have glanced at them, but there was nothing close to us at the moment. No one had followed the young woman or stumbled across my trail and started tracking me.

“We have to sneak in without your rig, steal the antidote, and sneak out,” she said, really leaning into her words now. “I’ve seen action dramas filmed in Havna’s stronghold, but that won’t be good enough. There are also tours. I really wanted to go before I realized what kind of man he is.”

“You want to find the tour office and get maps,” I said.

“Exactly. We don’t even have to detour. Just keep your eyes open for guard posts that look more like civilian offices, and that is where we can get up-to-date maps, including which areas are marked off limits and detailed descriptions of everything else.”

Her plan was so simple. I’d overlooked details that had been right in front of my face. “I wish every mission I went on had been owned by some dude with an ego so big he made his mansion famous and offered guided tours.”

Cissi laughed. “I’m glad I could help. Do you have news on the Soft Touch and everyone? I hope they are okay.”

“No. The ship moved out of comm range while avoiding boarding shuttles. That will buy them time, I hope.”

“Me too.”

I stood and pointed toward collapsed foot pegs on my legs and torso. “These are for performing maintenance, but Snow used to ride on them when we weren’t in a combat zone.”

“You talk about her a lot. I’d like to meet the woman. She sounds legendary.”

“Don’t tell her that. Neither of us would hear the end of it. Climb up. I’ll give you a ride. Be ready to jump down and hide if rails start flying.”

* * *

Dusk fell as though nothing bad had ever occurred on the planet, and especially not here. When Cissi told me Lord Havna’s stronghold provided tours, I assumed they had been shut down for the current crisis. Apparently, the Avian boss wasn’t worried, and neither were his bodyguards. Sure, there were enough soldiers on the perimeter to fight a war, but there was also a stream of civilian traffic entering by the main entrance. A live band played somewhere and didn’t sound too bad.

“I wish I had Fathers and Woods to send in undercover, with Yolo and Omar as a support team,” I said as we peered across a valley of mazes surrounding the stronghold.

“That would have been fun.” Cissi didn’t get tired or lose enthusiasm, apparently. “They would have needed an interpreter of course. I might have reluctantly volunteered if you asked nicely.”

I cocked one eyebrow like she could see it. “Reluctantly?”

She shrugged brightly. “You don’t know how studious and hard-working I am. Friends say I never take a vacation and or even think about enjoying a giant party at a galaxy-famous mansion with live music, fireworks, and free food.”

“Hmm. That is the word on the street. Cissi is no fun at all. Total killjoy.”

“What now?” she asked. “My plan would absolutely work, of course, but we need to get close enough to sneak in.”

I studied the maze of canyons between our observation point and our target. The side doors of the fortress opened onto water. Ships brought goods though overhead doors easily large enough to admit my rig. The rest of the complex was likely to be less conveniently designed. But maybe I could stomp all the way to Lord Havna’s chambers for a polite chat about the antidote.

I cracked my Breaker knuckles. The totally unnecessary gesture felt good. “I hope you’re good at mazes, because this will be the most dangerous part of our mission.”

She responded slowly. “It looks complicated, and I think it is flooded. Can you swim in this thing.”

“Nope.”

She laughed nervously, then climbed up.

I wondered what we would look like to an alert guard—a young Avian woman sitting on the shoulders of a metal monster stomping its way through the night intent on mischief.

The entrance to the maze confirmed Cissi’s concern about water. It was flooded. I waded in to my knees, then to my waist, and finally to my shoulders. She pulled up her feet to keep them from getting wet. Her arms hugged my low-profile helmet. Fortunately, I relied on sensors to see and had plenty of views for the rig’s computer to aggregate. Most were under water, but that was a detail for later.

“Maybe we should go back and try something else,” she said after ten minutes of pushing through deep water. “Could you call your ship and send your team in undercover like you said? This water is cold.”

I checked the readings and said nothing at first. She wasn’t wrong about the temperature. Swimming wouldn’t be an option for her unless Avian biology was a lot hardier than that of humans. I searched for handholds in the rock with the idea she could climb up and run along the top of the maze. That would keep her dry and allow her to guide me.

The idea sucked. She couldn’t traipse around in the light of the moon pointing the way to go. Worse, she wouldn’t be able to see much of the maze unless she was much higher than the tops of these walls. She would be little better than I was at navigation.

My computer measured distances and tracked every turn. We were making progress, but I didn’t think it would get shallower until we arrived at the docks—which would present an entirely new set of problems.

We went silently forward as the moon changed positions above us and the sounds of music and laughter on the hill grew louder. Twice I found a good angle to observe guards on the wall. They looked completely focused. Either they were disciplined or unimpressed by the festivities. Perhaps both.

The image stuck in my head. Winged guards in lightweight armor with tall rail lances. Much of their attire seemed ornamental, but there was an aura of seriousness about them, like they believed nothing could defeat them. They flared their wings from time to time. It seemed like they wanted to test them, just sail off the wall and glide over the maze looking for big metal intruders who were probably lost.

“I’m going to wrap myself in my wings,” she said.

“Okay. Sounds like a plan. Will that keep you warm?”

“Yes, but I won’t be able to hold on. You need to carry me. If the water gets deeper, I can stay submerged for a time. My wings can seal me in well enough to keep water out and air inside.”

“How long can you maintain that?” I asked.

“I’m not sure. In the action videos the heroes do it for hours. Ten or twenty minutes is probably more realistic.”

I peeked around a corner and saw the docks. Half a dozen guards were diligently watching boats full of cargo. Lights shone brightly from the ceiling. Twenty or thirty workers loaded and unloaded freight by hand.

“Question.” I had an idea but really didn’t like it.

“Yes?” She sounded both curious and cautious.

“Do you float when in your wing cocoon?”

She nodded, then answered, not realizing I could see her through one of my micro-cameras now that most of them were submerged. “Unfortunately, yes. Otherwise, I could hide below the surface. But if you want me to stay out of sight, you will need to hold me there, which will tie up one of your hands when you will probably need it to fight.

I gauged the light, the boat traffic, and the movement of the guards on the subterranean wharf. My first idea was to float her toward the far wall and then engage the guards, hoping she didn’t take a random shot. The idea of slaughtering Havna’s guards wasn’t appealing, and there could be a lot of collateral lives lost.

We needed a distraction and had very few ways of creating one. I really wished I had the entire team, the Soft Touch, and Regina to help me.

28

Cissi sat cross-legged in the palm of my Breaker hand as I held it just above shoulder level. She didn’t mind talking to the top third of my helmet. “You want me to do what?”

“Keep your voice down.” My words transmitted to her earpiece. “They can’t hear me because I’m encased in a soundproof helmet.” I watched the guards and dock workers with night vision, infrared, and laser technology. None of them could hide.

Cissi couldn’t see more than shadows moving under the harsh lights. From water level near the mouth of the maze entrance we had used, the floodlights did more harm than good. “Sorry. Can they see us, because all I get is glare when I try to look at them.”

“They will be hard-pressed to see you until they actively search for your voice,” I said. “Once you surrender, a pair of the guards, at least, will escort you into the fortress for detention. They will put the docks on alert and clear away civilians. That will reduce the number of people I need to worry about from thirty or more to four.”

“How do I get free? You don’t need me once the twins are healed and grateful enough to talk openly.” She sounded worried. “I shouldn’t have come.”

“Wrong. This is why you’re here. Spin a tale for them when they pull you out of the water. Tell them you ran away from me and that I’m the bad guy.”

“Maybe you are.”

“Ha, ha. Hilarious.” I pulled her deeper into the shadow of the maze entrance. “The more of them you can draw away from guard duty, the less fighting there will be when I crawl out.”

“What if you weren’t in your rig?” she asked.

I thought about it. Several things would happen once I engaged the fortress guards, no matter where that happened. Taking out four Avians, no matter how well they were armed or how diligently they did their duty, would be easy. They would sound the alarm, and then it would be war.

Havna would flee to another stronghold if I started to win.

Fail.

The Breaker rig was my greatest asset and worst liability at the same time. I needed to get the antidote, then use the war machine to escape. The truth struck me with the force of an epiphany.

“That’s a really good question. Give me a second.”

“One thousand one.”

“You’re full of jokes today.”

She whispered. “This is so exciting! One moment I’m terrified and want to go home, wherever that is, and the next I’m down for anything. I love it and hate it and it’s exhausting.”

Plans formed in my head. I tossed several aside and started over. Time wasn’t on our side. Nova and the others couldn’t hold out forever. The sooner we had the antidote, the sooner we would have leverage for a negotiation. In a perfect scenario, we would take everything and vanish from the system to regroup and analyze our next step.

“I’m going to park the rig near the dock, then we climb out together and talk our way into Havna’s chambers,” I said. “We may have to slip our guards and find our own way, because they will probably detain us until higher ranking officers and backup units arrive. Be ready for anything, including diving back into the water and using my rig to get out of here.”

She nodded vigorously. “Okay. I’m ready.”

“Curl into your wings. The water should get deeper to accommodate any boat or ship that can fit through the maze tunnels. I also see a direct course to a lake, so some of the maritime traffic could be industrial grade.”

Cissi pulled her wings tight. I dragged her below the surface and began forward. My assessment was spot on. By the time I reached the dock side of the cavern, there was easily two meters of water above my rig’s head.

Climbing out was tricky. Water flowed in and was immediately purged from critical systems by the rig’s automated safety features. If I had a combat technician, she or he would have double checked each system and made sure it was ready when I returned. Snow would have stayed close enough to guard the unit unless I was getting my ass kicked. She’d always come running when a mission degenerated into a melee.

I released Cissi from the rig, then held on as she floated to the surface, pulling me after her. We crested the water and waited to see if the guards or dock workers had detected us.

They hadn’t.

“How did your tech stay alive while you were fighting in that thing?” Cissi asked.

“CTs have their own armor.” I counted guards and couldn’t find one of them. “Hold still.”

Cissi sank in the water until only her eyes showed. Her hair and wings fanned out just below the surface. We held onto the dock and looked for an opportunity to climb out of the water.

“Make it convincing.” I edged sideways to reach the best exit point. Dock bumpers bobbed in the water. Years of wear and tear had left them cracked and dirty. My hands trembled as I took hold. Hypothermia was on the way. “They need to feel like they caught us.”

“Okay. I get it.” Cissi handled the temperature well, though she looked eager to get warm. “Try to sneak past them.”

I led the way up. Keeping as low as possible, I practically crawled across the dock. No boats were tied off here, which meant no crew to see us. That also meant there was almost nothing to hide behind. I squatted behind a coil of rope and felt exposed.

Cissi joined me. She fluttered water from her wings and coiled them against her back. “Sorry. That’s hard to control.”

“Follow me.” I ran in a half squat to a set of stairs that led to the main platform. Once there, we were among crates, forklifts, and bundles of freight bound for Havna’s vast stronghold.

Cissi crouched beside me while I peeked around a stack of goods to spy on the guards. It almost felt like we could make it past them without being spotted.

I crouched lower and waited. Minutes passed like hours. I recalculated the chances of infiltrating the fortress without a ruse.

“Those guards are really watching the exit to the lake. Maybe they think we have to come that way.” Cissi took a turn peeking around the other side of our hiding place.

I checked my wrist viewer. The Breaker rig remained undiscovered and was in standby mode. Climbing in and starting up would be a challenge. I’d only performed the maneuver underwater a handful of times in training. There hadn’t been aquatic operations during the Transit Wars. Our training had only included the drill for the sake of thoroughness. At the time, it had felt like useless busywork.

“We can’t stay here,” I said. “Stay close. We will need to run.”

She nodded energetically and said nothing.

I stood just high enough to sprint, then paused as six new guards arrived. They passed our position with only a glance and didn’t detect us. Soon the dock workers would come for the pallets. We had to be gone before they arrived. Everything would change then.

“Wait.” I kept my voice low and held her by one arm to make sure she didn’t bolt. Now wasn’t the time.

“Just tell me when.” She bounced on the balls of her feet, a clear sign of both readiness and nerves. “Are you sure we can’t make a break for it while they’re talking?”

I watched the guards exchanging information and orders. “No. If we go now, the men going off duty will follow us by accident. We need to wait until they’re gone, then go. That way we should have the hallway to ourselves.”

“That man is pointing at our hiding place.”

I crept to her side and followed her gaze. “He’s telling them to move this stack next. We’ll be cutting this close. I hope Havna’s guards don’t start telling stories and catching up on old times.”

“Me too!” Cissi’s breathless voice vibrated with excitement and dread.

Ten seconds, thirty seconds, and finally one minute passed as the guard supervisors chatted. At last, the six going off duty strode away, loosening gun belts and helmet straps as they went. Talking loudly, they were done paying attention to the waterways and dock workers.

I led Cissi after them, always staying back a turn and hoping there wouldn’t be other people coming around the corner. This felt like a corridor the guards used exclusively. Hopefully, that meant we wouldn’t run into a group of freight movers or merchants. All we needed was for them to cry out in alarm.

Cissi moved so quietly I had to look back to make sure I hadn’t lost her. Soon we were away from the docks—and my rig. That part didn’t give me a warm feeling. The tactic was sound, but I hated the idea of leaving Breaker 105 unguarded. What I would give for an infantry support squad and a combat technician.

A heavy door slid open, then dropped with a boom just around the corner. I held up a hand for Cissi to stop. We waited. I reached around the corner with my rail pistol and saw what it saw through the pinhole camera mount. The passage continued past a blast door that wouldn’t look out of place on a starship.

“We won’t be following the guards any farther,” I said.

“Is there video surveillance? Can we keep going or should we double back?”

That was a good question. I searched for as long as I dared, then pulled my weapon back. “No cameras I can see, but we’ll find another way just to err on the side of caution. Let’s move. Now is the time to hustle.”

29

Each hallway, every corner, and all the large open spaces were tests of fortitude. I wanted to hide and thought Cissi must be feeling the pressure even more acutely. I had no idea if the Soft Touch had been captured or destroyed by now, or if she had escaped with my squad. Cissi and I were a long way from the cave docks and had several levels to climb before coming anywhere near Havna and the antidote vials he carried around his neck.

“I think there is something in this room. Can we rest and see what it is?” Cissi asked.

I glanced at the hallway ahead of us, then cleared the room she indicated. No one had used the space for a long time, which was good for us because it was full of backup comms gear. This was part of the bomb shelter, I thought.

“Watch the door.” I tightened my rifle harness so I could use both hands on the view screen and thought about laying my pistol where I could snatch it easily. In the end, I left it holstered and trusted Cissi to warn me of anyone approaching the door.

“Should I lock it?”

“Yes.” I powered up the terminal and read the instructions. The secured functions were unavailable, but I thought I could reach out to the Soft Touch via low security channels. Everything was in Avian. I asked Cissi to read it to me to check my translation, then sent her back to the door to resume lookout duty.

“I hear voices in the hallway but they’re heading the other direction,” Cissi said. “I think the cafeteria is that way. Food sounds really good right now, in case you were wondering.”

I tossed her a ration bar from a utility pocket. She opened it carefully, removed the entire wrapper, and chewed on one corner.

Screens opened up as my fictitious login sequence was finally accepted. I searched and saw a coded social media post. Seconds later, I’d clicked on the embedded link and was waiting for Regina to contact me. The encryption would be from her end only, but was better than nothing.

“I have contact with the ship.”

Cissi’s eyes went wide. She nodded as she chewed. “That’s good. Still just a tiny bit hungry. Something to drink would be nice.”

My stomach rumbled.

“Boss, are you there?” Regina sounded like she was in another star system.

“I am, but I will need to move soon. Give me an update.”

“Do you want me to lie?” Regina asked.

“Can you even do that? Doesn’t your programming prevent it.”

“Yes and no. We’re in big trouble. Faulkner’s team and your agents have beaten back three attempts to board the ship. The Soft Touch takes damage with each encounter. Sergeant Nova wants to hide the ship, but there aren’t very many good options.”

“Tell me the best one.”

“Sergeant Nova thinks we could fake a crash landing on Avian Prime and sink.”

“I don’t love it.”

Regina displayed damage estimates and other numbers related to submerging a corvette class starship in water. “It could work. You could also grow wings and fly.”

“You’re not selling me on the idea, but leave the decision to Nova. I’m not about to second guess her from here. I have my own problems.” I looked to Cissi and waited for her nod that we were still alone, then focused on the screen. If Nova landed in the lake, and I could drive the Breaker across the bottom, and if I didn’t get mired in mud or silt…

“I have relayed your wishes to Sergeant Nova. She says she will handle the ship and for you to keep yourself and the girl alive.” Regina paused for a half-second. “Also, she said the twins really do need the antidote. Their condition is growing worse by the hour.”

“What about the squad and Faulkner’s team?”

“Nova advised me against sharing casualty reports and stated, with quite a bit of attitude if you ask me, that you don’t need to know about the team’s status until you physically return to the ship.”

“Thanks, Regina. Tell Nova she’s fired.”

“Boss?”

“That was a joke. I’ll be done here ASAP. Just be ready when Cissi and I come running.”

“Sure thing, boss. The squad will be happy to see you.”

I signed off and moved to the door.

“Well?” she asked.

“The ship will be waiting in the lake to pick us up.”

Her first response wasn’t about how that was even possible or if it would work. “Is everyone okay? I hope they didn’t have to fight while we were gone.”

I said nothing.

“Did you say in the lake? Your ship can do that?” Cissi asked, eyes wide.

“Sergeant Nova thinks it can.”

Cissi’s expression suggested incredulity and her sincere wish it worked out for my sergeant and the squad. “I suppose starships are airtight. But what about engines, grav fields, and structural integrity. Seems like a lot.”

“Let’s move.” I led the way into the hallway. We took stairs when we could and nervously waited on elevators when there was no other choice. I tried not to think about how far I was from 105.

A smile crept into my expression. My rig was waiting down there like a leviathan ready to rise up and wreak havoc. I loved the image despite suffering a bit of separation anxiety. Too bad I couldn’t operate it remotely and call it when needed. I had to go to it and suit up without Snow’s assistance—which was going to be so much fun.

Why did I always think of Katrina Snow when CTs came up? The answer was simple. She was the best. The woman made me a legend, not the other way around.

Images of diving from the parapets occupied my imagination. I had no idea how to dive or jump from that height without dying. Snow would laugh her ass off.

“Hold.” I held up one fist and was glad Cissi responded by freezing in her tracks. Maybe she’d seen the gesture in one of the Avian action shows.

A column of nearly invisible dust drifted from ceiling to floor. When I moved, it disappeared. “Do you see that?”

Cissi nodded. “Doesn’t seem natural. How do they do that?”

“I’m not sure of their exact method, but there may be devices in the floor and ceiling regulating polarity.” I edged toward the wall, found the perfect angle, and saw several other suspicious anomalies. “How much do you want to bet an alarm sounds if we disturb one of those dust columns?”

“Uh, nothing. I don’t have any digi-creds to lose.”

I smiled without taking my eyes off the problem at hand. “Smart.”

“How do we get around it?”

I backed up and took Cissi with me. “We find a different hallway. I picked this one because there didn’t seem to be foot traffic. That might have worked in our favor, but they set the alarms in vacant sections. Let’s find another way.

“I didn’t realize sneaking into a forbidden palace would be this exciting.”

“Be glad you’re not bored. Once the fun really starts, there will be more than enough for both of us.” I led the way to a new section of the complex and watched for every possible alarm trigger. The technology wasn’t cutting edge, but it was there and had to be respected.

Progress felt slow, but we were nearly at Havna’s personal suites the next time we stopped to rest and plan.

“I don’t see guard posts like all the other areas we avoided,” Cissi said.

“They’re hidden. Lords don’t like to look worried about intruders, even when they are. Take nothing for granted. Every tapestry, bookshelf, or even walls could be hiding a quick reaction force ready to take us down.”

“Thanks for the pep talk.”

“You’re welcome. Aren’t you glad you came?”

“Doesn’t every girl want to be cold, wet, and hungry right before they die or get thrown in prison?” She ruffled her wings to shed a fine mist of water. “Every time I think I’m finally dry, I feel a trickle down my back.”

I didn’t want to think about my sodden clothing. Water from the cavern mixed with my sweat and felt delightful. We were out of ration bars and hadn’t found a drinking fountain for a while. This area of the complex was free of mundane comfort features Everything was for show.

An alarm sounded.

Cissi stared at me wide eyed. “We didn’t move. Is there someone else trying to sneak in? After all that work to avoid detection, it feels like Havna is cheating.”

I checked where we were. “No. This is the opposite of a motion sensor. Something detected us hiding here. A pressure pad in the floor or something.”

“Why would a security system do that?”

“Someone could slip away from a tour, hide until all the exterior alarms are set, then do their mischief. Motion sensors probably aren’t used here because guards patrol the area and would set them off frequently. This is the opposite of the first alarm system we detected. We stayed in one place for too long, like someone hiding. You move you get caught, you don’t move you get caught.”

“Oh.”

I pulled her into the next room, then stopped at the sound of boots pounding into the area. I quick-peeked the corner and pulled back before anyone noticed. The challenge was remembering what I saw with any level of useful detail. In this case, the basic information about the next room was more than enough. A full squad of armed guards was filling it. Weapons ready, they held for new orders.

Which meant they were only one part of the alarm response.

I backed up, bringing Cissi with me. There were two other doors to this room. A look around the first corner revealed another group of Havna’s soldiers taking positions. The sound of running boots previewed what I could expect from the only remaining exit.

“Void hell,” I muttered.

“Let me talk to them. That’s why you brought me.”

“No. They have us and they know it.”

Cissi practically bounced on her toes with a new kind of energy. When she stopped, it was obvious she was about to confess something I hadn’t seen coming. “I need to tell you why no one from my family met us at the spaceport. You weren’t supposed to be there.”

“What are you talking about? The customs minister would have sent you back immediately.”

“He did that anyway.” She stopped talking when voices came closer. Tense seconds passed, and the searching guards went another way. We still didn’t have time for anything but planning our escape. “My family has no idea I came to Avian Prime, and there was no marriage proposal. I hacked into the registry and sent my uncle several offers, most of them unacceptable. He picked the one I thought he would. So predictable.”

“Why would you do that, Cissi?”

“I wanted to go to Avian Prime. You have no idea how boring my life was on Earthdale. At least here I would have a chance to make something of myself.”

Both laughing and crying held equal appeal. My mission to save the girl who didn’t need to be saved was a grand farce. Nova would lose her mind and then laugh until tears splashed on the deck. The rest of my squad would be cracking up the moment I delivered the punchline. “How is this going to get us out of here?”

She shrugged.

“You might think I’m crazy, but I understand.”

“You do?” Her expression opened as though she hadn’t expected acceptance.

“We can hash it out later if you want, but for now, you’re about to get your other wish. There is nowhere to run.” I liked her more now. The idea of her marrying some dude she’d never met hadn’t sat well with me. This was messed up, and she had lied to me and the squad, but I wanted to help her more than ever. I suspected her tears at the minister’s rejection had been real. Despite her ruse to get to this planet, that had to hurt.

“You need to hide, at least long enough for me to get a few words out before they point weapons and shout.”

I tucked into a closet that was far too small for me. My nose touched the inside of the door. She snickered as I was wedging myself in and I wondered what she knew that I didn’t. What kind of closet was this?

None of my cameras could fit through the ventilation gaps in the door. I only saw a tiny slice of the room but could hear well enough.

“Stop. What are you doing here?”

“Thank the sky you came. I got lost—separated from my tour group.”

“That had to be hours ago,” the guard said. “Explain yourself.”

“My friend Deadra dared me to jump the rope, and I did because she wouldn’t stop teasing me.”

“Peer pressure is not an excuse. Why are you still here? There is a hefty fine for loitering with the intent to infiltrate.”

“Who did that? Not me. I was scared. There’s a monster following me. The only thing I could do was hide.”

“Lies will not reduce your fine. Come with me.”

I saw movement and thought she had pulled away from his grasp of her arm.

“It’s in the wing dryer! Might be human. Definitely as ugly as a Razik.”

Silence.

The guard was taking her seriously, which suggested there had been a bulletin. Havna’s security force was expecting me, or some other crazy human who thought infiltrating this fortress was a good idea.

My nose itched at the smell of lavender and other flowers. What kind of wing dryer was this, and why had she chuckled when I squeezed in here? The urge to sneeze came at me like shock troopers assaulting a ship. Eyes watering, I held my breath, knowing the trick could only buy me seconds.

“Describe this human,” the guard said.

“I don’t think he was human. Have you ever met one face-to-face? I’m very sheltered. This creature was really big and ugly. Its eyes were like ice and his voice exploded when it spoke. Why aren’t you scared, sir?”

Another guard entered.

The first spoke. “Watch her. She thinks there is a bojangalis in the perfumer.”

“Of course. Lots of monsters hide in there. Very romantic, the bojangalis.”

A sneeze blasted free. My head snapped back and struck the rear of the confined space. Suddenly I realized I stank of my grandmother’s perfume, only worse because I thought there were sparkles sticking to me. All I could see of myself was the side of my nose, but it was enough to get seriously annoyed.

Now, in addition to the urge to sneeze continuously, I needed to laugh in the worst way. The guard stopped within arm’s reach when he heard the ridiculous crescendo of sounds coming from the wing dryer. I imagined a cloud of glitter and flower smells leaking from the vents.

“There is a horrible beast in there! Be careful!” Cissi said.

Why did it sound like she was suppressing laughter?

30

I flung the door open, striking aside the guard’s reaching gauntlet. I pushed off the wall behind me and kicked him in the pelvis, launching him backward. Instinct commanded me to tackle him and apply quick restraints, but his partner was already on me. I didn't have time to follow up my surprise attack and the advantage it briefly provided.

“Stop! Surrender your hands!” He shouted in Galactic Standard with a heavy accent. Stress was death to second languages.

I dropped low and shot forward, catching him around the knees. Before he could react, I lifted him into the air and slammed him on his back, expecting the attack to knock the wind out of him.

His wings cushioned his fall.

I changed tactics and slid into side-control without a pause. Now, with my body pressed down on his at a ninety-degree angle, I was able to keep him on his back while controlling both his hips and shoulders. His movement was restricted, even if his wings flared beneath him in an attempt to help him back to his feet.

Grappling with Avians was proving to be dangerous and weird at the same time. He moved and shifted beneath me until I felt like I was riding an angry wave.

The first guard struggled to his feet.

I drove one knee into my current victim’s stomach, then punched him hard in the face. This was dirty fighting at its worst, but I didn't have time to be gallant or even fair. He went slack.

Rolling away, I narrowly missed a clumsy attack from guard number one. He swung a baton in a wide arc. After ducking under it, I slammed my fist up under his jaw and lifted him off his feet.

He fell. I bound him with quick restraints, and then treated the other one similarly. “Find something to gag them.”

Cissi scrunched up her face in horror. “Do I have to? These guys were trying to catch us, but that sounds horrible.”

I frisked the man I was working on and found some type of bandanna. A moment later I had him gagged. Cissi awkwardly treated the other guard the same way.

“They'll be found in minutes,” I said. “Don't worry about them. It's time to move quickly.”

Cissi sprinted through the door before I could clear it.

“Too fast, Cissi!”

“Oh, sorry.” She melted against one wall and waited until I caught up. “My heart is racing like a diving falcon.”

I scanned for the responding guards. So far, we were good but that couldn’t last. Holding my rail carbine at low ready, I slipped smoothly toward unfamiliar doors. “Do you remember passing these?”

She nodded emphatically. “Yes. Take that one. It will lead us through the general staff area—food service and housekeeping workers mostly. In older video dramas, they kept servants and didn’t allow them to look the masters in the eyes. Ridiculous, but we weren’t always an enlightened people.”

“History lessons later.” I cut the pie, searching as much of the room from outside as possible, then went through quickly. A pair of bent-backed Avians with hooded cloaks avoided eye contact as they put their wings to the wall.

Cissi followed and sucked in a breath when she saw the workers.

“Problem?”

“It’s nothing. Keep going.”

The hallways in this section of the fortress were long, narrow, and low.

“Cramped.” I said when we stopped to evaluate a T intersection.

Darkness shaded her words. “Old masters didn’t want servants to open their wings. Many things like that were done to keep people in their place. There is no reason for the restriction. It only serves to make hot work even hotter. I’m already sweating beneath my plumage.”

“Human history has worse,” I said, then moved before we could discuss past injustices.

We came to a red door with different markings than the others. “Where do you think this leads?”

“That is a roof access. Can your ship pick us up?”

I continued to the next intersection. “We don’t have the antidote. I don’t want to risk the Soft Touch like that if we can avoid it, and I don’t want to abandon 105. Our plan is still to recover the vials and use my rig to get back to the freight shuttle we left in the forest.”

Avian workers moved aside. Most bowed until their hoods obscured their eyes. I sure as hell wasn’t an Avian lord. These people were so cowed by Havna that they were conditioned to submit to almost any authority. Their timidity made my life easier but also stoked a smoldering rage I knew would grow to a flaming torch.

Many pushed food carts, a detail that barely registered until I noticed some of them trembling with shame. I didn’t understand their aversion to preparing and delivering meals, but it was a thing. Other facts were more obvious. Someone had conditioned them to speak when spoken to and never question authority. This wasn’t normal for Avians. I understood that much about their culture.

“These people might not be slaves, but they’re something too close for comfort.”

“This was ended hundreds of years ago,” Cissi said. “Long before your people showed up in the Andromeda galaxy. Really ruffles my feathers.”

The phrase sounded distinctly un-profane. Cissi’s expression said otherwise. She probably thought human talk about void hell and getting lost in the expanse of darkness was melodramatic or just dumb. Sometimes our people were surprisingly alike. Other times I remembered our species had radically different origin stories.

“If we survive this mission, I’m going to do something about this. People need to know what’s happening down here.”

I pulled her into a new hallway as guards checked rooms the way we had been heading. A moment passed while we waited. “I doubt this is a secret on Avian Prime.”

“What do you mean?”

How to phrase the truth? “People can justify anything. How many people have you seen today with their heads down like servants? Do their families know what their work conditions are like? Friends? Associates? Is there social media on this planet or other Avian colonies? Think back to the movies you love so much. Tell me there weren’t scenes like this.”

“I didn’t think those parts were real!”

“The guards are going room to room. Can we cut through this area to a new part of the building and avoid them?”

She forced down the indignation of our recent conversation and focused on what we needed to do. “I think so. Let me lead. Put that gun away if you can.”

I slipped the weapon beneath my jacket but kept the front loose for easy access. My weapons were covered but wouldn’t escape close examination. “Where can we find cloaks?”

“That’s not a good look,” she said. “But I see your point. There must be a laundry section somewhere.” She led the way, glowering at the increasingly grim work conditions beneath Havna’s palatial stronghold and muttering under her breath. “I’m going to do something. By the sky, I will.”

Old and young Avians alike shied away from me. Each time we approached a new group, they squeezed close to the walls to let us by. They lowered their eyes, showed their hands, and cast aside their dignity. More than once I caught them peeking at me like I was an exotic zoo animal.

“Peace, friends. I’m not here to hurt you.”

“That won’t help, Breaker.” Cissi watched a group as we passed. “You’ll probably scare them more.”

“Right. I’m an ugly monster after all.”

“That was for the guards—method acting. I’m sure you are very handsome for an older human.”

“I’m not old.”

She gave me a look. “So you’re the same age as Sergeant Nova and Fathers and the others in your squad? I didn’t realize that was the case.”

“You don’t have to be mean.”

She laughed lightly. “I wouldn’t dream of it!”

“You know this type of banter makes me think you’ll fit right in with the squad. But don’t get attached. You’re not an APOP agent, or even a specialist.”

“I could be.”

“It takes years of training, if they accepted you to the academy, and I doubt they would after all the time you’ve spent around me. Trust me, my name won’t serve as much of a reference.” I stopped at the sight of a new group. These stood back and looked as wary as the others but were clearly waiting for us. The word was out. A human and an Avian woman were fleeing through the lower sections of the fortress.

One stepped forward. Not tall by Avian standards, he appeared strong and confident. I liked him immediately, though it was clear he didn’t have much use for me.

“What are you doing here, ape?” The man’s words reminded me of Cabs. “Why does that girl expose her face to the world?”

“I lost my dog.” The words popped out before I could stop them. “She's helping me look for it.”

He scowled. “Humans keep pets. That is what makes them less than us. You should be averting your eyes, not the other way around.”

I held up both hands, striving for all the sincerity I could muster. “I’m not arguing, friend. Do you have a name?”

“Call me Loden. What ape word describes you?”

“My mother named me Benjamin, but everyone calls me Breaker.”

He held my gaze as he processed this information. “This thing you said about your pet dog was a sarcasm, was it not?”

“Inside joke. It's been a long day. I apologize if I caused offense.”

“No matter,” he said. “We must alert the guards. Every one of us will suffer if you are found among us and we did not do our duty. The rules are simple and clear.”

I waited. He said nothing, did nothing.

Cissi moved between us. Rather than bow submissively, she doubled down on boldness. Head held high, shoulders back and wings slightly flared, she looked Loden in the eye. “We've passed dozens of people who said nothing. We are easy to ignore.”

Loden made a guttural sound I couldn't quite describe. It seemed he was going to chastise her further. I held back. So far, nothing I'd said had been helpful.

“You can easily turn a blind eye,” Cissi continued. “This man helped me when others would not. He stood up to the minister of customs without being asked. Why? Because he felt the man had done me an injustice.”

“Maybe you need help, girl. We do not.”

“He has helped other Avians. Don't judge him until you know what you're talking about.”

I held up both hands to get their attention. Everyone in the room watched and waited. “There were twins in Havna’s city fortress.”

“Lord Havna,” Loden grumbled.

“You call him Lord?” Cissi’s tone conveyed nothing but disdain.

Their disagreement was a sideshow. The other workers never looked at them. All of their attention was on me. My mention of the twins had struck a nerve.

“Havna had them chained to the floor and spirited them away when there was trouble,” I said.

The crowd hissed and talked rapidly in a dialect of their language I couldn't understand. They were wary of me. Some probably disliked me as much as Loden did, but they valued the twins and didn't appreciate that they were mistreated.

Sometimes my hunches paid off. The average Avian might not care whether I lived or died, but their own people meant something—and the twins were a special case.

Loden moved to interrupt my view and silence the crowd. He planted his feet a bit wider and lowered his chin. His wings drew tight about him. “You don't know me, or my people. I was, and always will be, the first to suspect you of wrongdoing. Your people have done nothing to relieve our suffering. However, if what you say is true, I will lead you in your attempt to liberate the birth pair.”

I waited a beat to avoid sounding flippant or sarcastic. “I've already freed them from Havna. He poisoned them. I must take from him an antidote to save their lives.” The twins could survive by simply remaining in my enemy’s custody, but why muddy the waters. This group probably craved freedom nearly as much as life. In my mind, these were the same things.

Excited talking and arguing broke out among the previously silent group. Loden glowered with rage.

I waited for him to make the next move.

He stepped forward and spoke in a low, hard voice. “If what you say is true, then I will help you. Where is this antidote? You wouldn't have come here without a plan.”

My plan hadn't been nearly as good as I thought, but I kept that part to myself. “He wears it around his neck.”

Loden hissed. “Then you go to your death. No one can take from Lord Havna. What is his remains his a thousand times.”

I opened my mouth to comment, then shut it. We were losing something in translation, but I got his point.

Loden didn’t notice my reaction. He was clenching his fist and snapping the words now. “He will slaughter anyone who tries and torture anyone who helps him.”

The nervous looks of the spectators confirmed his conclusion. Loden wasn't exaggerating. That caused me to reevaluate my assessment of the worker. He seemed like a sturdy fellow who had lived a hard existence, but apparently he was brave and selfless as well. Hurling yourself against impossible odds for the sake of total strangers took a special kind of person. Loden might be a good cop in another life.

“If you can get me close, I'll handle the rest. There's no need for you to suffer needless risk. I’m APOP. It’s my job.”

“That is a worry for another time. Come with me. No one here saw anything, and they will not speak of this.” He pointed at the crowd. “Say nothing. Speak only when spoken to. Remember what our lord has done to the twins. If he will treat them thus, what more would he be willing to do to you and me, the lowest of our society?”

Angry murmurs spread through the group and didn’t die off as the initial outrage had. Something was happening here. I hoped they took action and prayed they were smart about it. Change could be dangerous. I hadn’t come here to foment rebellion or revolution. After seeing how Havna treated anyone weaker than himself, I was more than okay with it.

“These people are very unhappy,” Cissi said privately. “It is strange they will suffer endlessly, but become outraged at the suffering of another? Is this the same with your people?”

“Sometimes. Loden is picking up the pace. We better keep up.”

31

Loden led with confidence. He knew every hallway in the stronghold. Workers reacted to him far differently than to us without him. Several times he stopped to chat, smile, and shake hands. The Avian version of the greeting required a brief touch of the wings, a sight I found amazing in all the good ways.

When would I see their customs through local eyes? I had always been an outsider. This was a privilege and a distraction from the desperation of my current dilemma.

We passed through dozens of rooms and hallways.

“Havna’s architects are good at maze design,” I said.

Cissi laughed brightly. “I know, right?”

Loden ignored the comment. He stayed two paces ahead of us, probably to signal he was our guide rather than our friend. Something about his wings stirred a memory. I watched the way he moved, how he talked to people, and the uprightness of his posture.

The man hadn’t been born to a life of servitude. Neither, I realized, had most of the people working below Havna’s palatial estates.

Cissi pointed at a wall screen that had been set too high for anyone to use easily. It was for watching only. I wondered who had the authority to change the channel, assuming there was anything to watch but Havna Screen.

A pair of shadowy figures appeared above scrolling text I couldn’t read. “What does that say?”

“Intruders have been seen in the building. Please report suspicious individuals immediately. Lord Havna demands it. Do your duty or do the decent thing and clip your wings,” she read. “That’s harsh.”

Loden looked over his shoulder for the first time. Eyes narrowed, he seemed nervous. The moment passed when he resumed his forward progress. I tried to evaluate his posture, his stride, and even his rate of movement. Would he betray us? Had he decided helping us wasn’t worth the risk?

Message screens and the occasional public address announcement reminded workers of what was expected. Groups of Avians gathered at intersections to watch us.

“Stay silent,” Loden said. “You know how to do that, correct? Do your jobs. Let me worry about this. I have the wings to bear it.”

My initial assessment was that Loden had been a corporate manager or military officer before his fall from grace. Now I wondered if his history was even more complex. At first, his help seemed suspiciously coincidental, but it made sense with each new incident.

Who would stand up and take this kind of risk?

Someone who knew how. Probably someone who had once been Lord Havna’s equal or at least from the same caste. Or maybe, Loden had once been the steward of this grand estate.

The next screen ended the alert with a transition to idyllic videos of Havna’s court. Men and women, mostly young and attractive, danced and laughed while food seemed to magically appear with no need to be served. Both the music and the movements were entrancing. If the images weren’t such lies, and I wasn’t far beyond my mandate, it would be worth watching for hours.

Avian grace was a treasure. Cissi was equally entranced. A sad, wistful expression spread across her face before she snapped back to our current situation. “There are the twins.”

I watched Fay and Borm playing instruments that resembled three-necked guitars and singing to a crowd on the verge of tears. “Weird, they’re not chained to the floor.”

“And they’re on the Soft Touch,” Cissi said.

“Havna is looping an old video.”

Loden scowled. “Maybe I should have questioned the two of you more.”

I typed on my wrist screen, then showed him a video of what Havna’s court actually looked like. He watched the soldiers, and the twins in chains. Eyes darting back and forth to follow the images, he appeared as angry as I was.

He crossed his arms and collapsed his wings as he focused on the wall screen. Several Avians waited for him to speak. He pointed. “Does this appear fake to you?”

Workers clustered closer to the screen and were soon pointing and nodding at all the things they saw wrong with the images.

One laughed. “Look, there I am.” She chuckled musically. “Strange that I have never been to that place but appear in the video. I’m practically a lord myself, apparently.”

Loden threw back his head to laugh. The sound that came out was quieter than I expected but seemed like the Avian equivalent of a belly laugh. Others commented. We slipped away as more and more workers took impromptu breaks to watch the screen.

“Pausing to witness the greatness of Lord Havna’s court is not against the rules,” Loden explained as we marched on. “It is encouraged, in fact. I hope that you have not set dangerous times in motion.”

“Can you guide these people through them?” I asked.

“I believe so, but it will not be an easy thing.”

Loden stopped at a wide set of stairs leading to a formal area. “Might I see the video again. My resolve needs fortification.”

I showed him.

He watched intently, then pushed my hand back. The gesture seemed respectful, almost intimate, like we might be on the way to friendship.

I hoped that was the case. Avian Prime had always appealed to me, before and after the misunderstanding. There was nothing I wanted less than to see another war here. Was this mission worth it? Fighting Havna’s soldiers, trespassing in his domain, and engaging in car chases didn’t feel like good ways to maintain the peace.

“We need to get this done and over with,” I said to Cissi.

“I know.” She seemed sad. “I wish it were like those videos. Why can’t it be that nice for everyone?”

“Maybe it can if we do our jobs.”

32

Loden guided us to a corner table in the banquet room and suggested we sit. He winked at a crew setting up table placements and they were soon screening us. A casual examination of the room wouldn’t spot our hiding place right away. Avian workers moved slowly around us, flaring their wings slightly to disrupt camera surveillance as well. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a lot more help than I had hoped for.

“I must find cloaks if we wish to proceed,” he explained. “There are no guards in the banquet hall, but there will be. You may see non-Avians. Do not speak to them. They can’t be trusted.”

“Why not?” Cissi asked, probably thinking of me and getting defensive.

“They touch food they do not eat and refuse to look at the sky.” He worked his way around workers as though we didn’t exist.

“I look at the sky,” I said.

Cissi leaned across the table, clasping her hands together as she looked me in the eyes. “Do you really?”

“All the time, when I’m planetbound.”

“What do you see?”

I struggled for words adequate to describe the awe wide open spaces evoked in my generation. Decades on a transit ship changed the way a person experienced terrestrial events. “Blue skies and armadas of clouds. Sunsets and sunrises. Light in a thousand variations.”

“Very nice. That is the best description a non-Avian has given me.” She leaned even closer. “Do you see yourself gliding among those clouds? Can you imagine the warmth of the sun on your wings?”

“No.” I wasn’t sure how to form any of the questions suddenly filling my head, but that never stopped me from trying. “Maybe I will now. You make it sound like every Avian wishes they actually could fly.”

She didn’t respond, though I hadn’t really expected her to reveal something amazing.

“Did your people ever fly?” I asked.

She looked wistful. “That depends on who you believe or how many times you have tried.”

“What’s your number?”

Her face reddened. “That is more embarrassing than handling food or talking to an ape.”

“Ouch. So what’s the number?”

“I lost count.”

“How far did you go? I mean, did it work at all? Do you need bigger wings or something?”

She stared at me strangely, then slowly expanded her wings to their full range—which was way farther than I assumed. Feathers shifted over feathers, hiding tendons, muscles, and joints.

“That’s incredible.” Words spilled out before I considered their meaning. “You must have the wingspan to soar forever. That’s amazing. I’d like to watch the next time you try.”

She blushed but seemed pleased. “Now that is something that has never happened—a human watching one of the winged people soaring down from the heights.”

“I can’t wait. Truly, Cissi. I think it would be fantastic.”

Loden returned just as she collapsed her wings. His look was almost blank. I couldn’t read his expression. The man scowled easily, and this was a bit like that, but different. Maybe he had been jumping off things in secret as well. For all I knew, every Avian tried to fly at some point in their lives.

“Guards arrived on the other side of the room, but appeared bored. They are too interested in Kia, though if they see Cissi, they may shift their attention.” He handed us cloaks, then put on a third. “More workers arrive by the minute. Supervisors will be doing checks. You may even see a guest or two previewing the venue. Talk to no one. We must move through this part of the stronghold quickly.”

We slipped into the cloaks and followed Loden. He strode across the room, never slowing or steering around Avians and Glossers pushing carts. They scrambled out of his way. My speculation about his former life gained credence. The man was accustomed to command.

Five large hallways opened into the vast chamber. Hundreds of tables were set up now. I spotted two stages for musicians and fountains covered in gently moving wind chimes. More people were arriving just as Loden had warned.

We were almost to the exit when the guards I had assaulted and bound entered with a group of soldiers.

“They’re looking for us,” Cissi hissed.

“Just keep moving.” I gripped my weapon beneath the cloak as my heart pounded in my chest. “This isn’t good, Cissi. I’m not gonna lie. If something goes down, get low and stay out of the way. You may need to find your own way after this.”

Guards looked our way. Loden tensed, faltered a step, then continued. I lowered my heart rate with a combat breathing exercise. Adrenaline might make me stronger and faster, and it may numb me to pain, but there was a point of diminishing returns. I needed to be cool until there was no other choice but to fight.

“Keep your hood up and press on,” Loden hissed.

An Avian guard with a black eye and torn uniform separated from the others to march our direction. “You three, stop!”

The doorway ahead of us was narrow and crowded with workers who had frozen in place. Food carts, bystanders, and the narrowing aperture of the exit made it a bad place to fight.

I stopped without alerting Cissi or Loden, and turned to face the guard I had surprised the first time we met. My companions continued two full steps before realizing what I had done. They weren’t out of danger, but it was the best I could do. Sometimes the galaxy threw space dust in your face and you had to deal with it.

Then, before I realized what was happening, Cissi was between me and the guards.

She dropped her hood and threw back her shoulders. “Please explain yourself, sir. We have done nothing to deserve this harassment.”

For several heartbeats, it seemed her bold ruse would work. The guard hesitated, then waved the others to follow him and continued forward. Cissi stiffened, retreated a step, and was too slow to avoid his attack.

The haymaker punch came with little skill but enormous force. She threw up a thin arm to block and flinched from the blow. I was already in motion, rushing to confront her attacker.

The punch slammed her sideways. Onlookers gasped. Even the guards seemed surprised by the sudden violence.

I had no such compunctions. Where his swing had been wild, mine was a surgical strike with my weight behind the straight thrust. I followed up immediately with a tight left hook, and another right-handed punch to my adversary’s face. My carbine hung on its sling, begging to be used.

“Intruders!” the squad leader shouted.

Loden raised both hands and extended his wings even wider than Cissi had done earlier. The difference was dramatic. She had gently reached out for her maximum wingspan. This was a snapping movement that sounded like thunder, or maybe a head sail catching wind.

More distracting was the shrieking wail, almost a war cry, he sent up. In twos, and threes, the rest of the room imitated him until the entire dining hall was a confusion of wings and noise. Some of the feathers were brightly colored. Others were drab. None of them wavered once fully extended.

A thrill went through me as I backed away from my adversary. The air seemed charged with possibility. The guards were stunned. A pair pulled back the man I’d knocked down and looked to their squad leader for direction.

“Wings down!” the leader shouted. “Wings down, all of you! This is unlawful. Remember who you are! Respect your lord’s sanctuary. Your master will not be pleased—and every one of you knows the consequences of that unfortunate situation.”

Several pairs of wings folded. One partially collapsed, then reached even wider. Guards struck those closest to them and shoved them backward. Someone flipped over a table. Glass shattered against a wall.

Loden began to sing. His voice reached for the rafters. Deep, strong, and resonant as a thunderstorm, he belted a martial sounding anthem with words I didn’t understand.

I grabbed Cissi by her arm, hauling her to her feet and toward the exit. “He’s covering our retreat. Let’s not make him regret it.”

Voices shook the room. Wings slashed the air at the end of each line. The sound was like nothing I had heard before. Cissi moved like she’d been overwhelmed by the spontaneous solidarity of the crowd.

“We have a mission to complete,” I said.

She shook herself back to reality. “I’m with you, though I may regret not adding my voice to this song.”

That’s what I thought I heard her say. It was difficult to hear well amongst the turmoil of the confrontation. Guards formed a line, aware now they didn’t have the numbers to press forward. Workers streamed in from every hallway. No one was pushing or punching, thankfully. I didn’t know how long the standoff could remain peaceful.

The exit was free of guards. I ran for it with Cissi right behind me.

33

A new squad of Avian soldiers emerged from the doorway as we drew nearer. More arrived from other areas. This was a coordinated response they had practiced. I’d never enjoyed riot training and doubted the Avian men did either. As police responsibilities went, it was the worst. The responding security guards looked like someone had spilled their morning coffee and called their mothers names.

“I’m sorry,” Cissi cried.

None of this was her fault, but I didn’t have time to reassure her. A squad of Avians wearing armor and carrying shields rushed me.

I kicked the first shield, stopping the man in his tracks. The next I pulled, causing him to peel out of formation and stumble. Hoping for a hat trick, I dropped low, spun in a circle with one leg out and tripped two more.

Cissi ducked a baton strike and was grabbed a second later. I fought toward her, slamming Havna’s security team out of my way, but there were too many.

The fight would change if I put my rail carbine or pistol to work, but there were far too many innocent bystanders. Rails couldn’t be pulled back once they left the barrel. In a room like this, rail shots would wreak unintended carnage.

“Enough!” boomed a strong voice.

I retreated from my adversaries and spotted Lord Havna and his entourage. His bodyguards looked ready for war.

“Stop fighting! Lower your wings! Be silent,” Havna commanded.

Noise diminished rapidly as his guards pulled back from the mostly passive crowd. Locking shields, the riot team looked ready for round two.

I wished I could use my rail. Better yet, I wished I was in my rig. None of these weapons could touch me if I were sealed inside 105. All I would need to worry about would be stepping on people I didn’t want to smash.

Was my freedom worth starting another war? No.

What about stopping a galactic conflict that would burn entire solar systems to useless rocks? That was another matter, assuming I was right about what would happen if I didn’t get the twins the antidote and decide where to take them.

The last pair of wings dropped. Loden stood defiant. Havna looked him up and down, then ignored him like he was nothing.

“Thank you, people of Avian Prime. This has been a strange trial, but the intruders have been cornered at last. Every one of you has my gratitude.”

I raised one hand. “Does that include me? I mean, you’re welcome, I guess.”

Havna made that peculiar growling noise unique to Avians. “Do not mock the wing, human. That is how wars start.”

“Perhaps you should not mock other sentients.” Cissi’s voice rang clearly in the now silent room. “How can you demand respect when you offer none?”

Workers and guards shifted. Voices murmured toward the back where it was difficult to determine who spoke.

Loden joined Cissi. “I have come to a new appreciation of the humans, Glossers, and even the Raziks who travel to our home world.”

“That is why you are nothing, Lord Loden. Go scrub pots. Carry food that you cannot eat in your mouth like an animal.”

Hisses and clicks filled the room. Wings began to open but quickly fell when the security team drummed batons on their shields.

“Enough,” Havna barked, then continued in an artificially reasonable tone. “Emotions run high. My words are interpreted unfairly. Of course I do not cast scorn on you, the strong and loyal workers of my estate. Focus your ire on the one who deserves it.” He pointed a wingtip in my direction. “Breaker 105, a man who once waged war on our soil.”

“That is not a fair account of the tragedy,” Loden said.

“Your opinions on outsiders and their value is known. Silence yourself and be content that judgment has been passed. Do not provoke me into another outburst.” Havna waved his hand in a circle to signal his security team. “Take the human and the runaway girl into custody. They will have their moment before the tribunal to explain their actions.”

“You control the results. Everyone knows there is no justice in your court,” Cissi said. “How fair is that? Maybe a trial by combat is the better option. Lord Havna against Breaker 105, legend of the AP.”

I shot her a what-the-hell look. Havna was in full armor, surrounded by loyal guards, and on his own turf. I’d never fought an Avian duel and didn’t think now was the time to start.

Doubt flickered in Havna’s eyes, which caused me to rethink Cissi’s challenge. I still didn’t want to fight the man in a dining hall surrounded by his personal bodyguards and stronghold security teams.

“Duels are illegal.” Havna shifted from foot to foot, clearly nervous.

Was the man known as a duelist? Cissi’s tone suggested he wouldn’t dare refuse such a challenge. I didn’t have enough information.

“Or we could talk,” I said loudly, simultaneously raising both hands to show I wasn’t holding a weapon. “This isn’t a place to fight.”

“That it is not,” Havna agreed. “Stand closer so that we may converse in private and agree on terms.”

I approached under the watchful eyes of his bodyguards. None of them had handcuffs or quick restraints—which probably meant they would skip from verbal commands to lethal force if this went the wrong way.

“Speak,” Havna said. “Make your proposition.”

This part was going to suck, because the last thing I wanted was to work with this tyrant. Avoiding a war and eliminating collateral damage would have to be consolation for the deal I was about to propose.

“I know everything you do and more.” The bluff was dangerous but not totally inaccurate, so I went with it. “I know why you need the twins, and I know about the Ultar.”

“I am amazed,” he said dryly. “This wealth of knowledge and understanding is truly unique among all the lords of the galaxy. I envy you.”

Smart ass. “Listen. I’m good at what I do, Lord Havna. Nobody's going to the Ultar sector and coming back in one piece. If you have interests there, it’s time to make a deal.” Morales was going to hate this. “I can protect Avian interests just as well as I can safeguard every world in the Alliance of Planets. Avian Prime is still in the AP, right?”

“We are members in high regard.” His tone took an even more dangerous tone. “What about what is due to me personally?”

“Like I said. It’s time to make a deal. Name your price, and I will do what I can.”

He surveyed the room, pausing on individuals testing the length of their wings and talking secretively with their neighbors. “You have no honor. This deal does not suit me. Perhaps I should throw you from the walls and see if you sink in the canals.”

I maintained a poker face. Could I survive the plunge and swim to my rig? Not likely, but maybe that was the best chance I was going to get. The idea made me sick. At the same time, I was ready to do anything to escape this man’s presence.

“I will require a hostage, no matter what form our agreement takes.” He leered at Cissi. “The spirited revolutionary will suffice. Think of it as a charity. By the time you return with my rewards, she will be a proper Avian woman.”

Every choice had to be impossible. Life had been simpler when storming ships or fighting off boarding parties was the sum of my official duties. There was no way I could betray Cissi. The fate of the galaxy was a high price to pay for one young woman’s dignity, yet there wasn’t really a choice.

Maybe that was my fatal flaw. I was too stubborn and idealistic to face facts. “No deal. Cissi comes with me or goes to her home. That is non-negotiable.”

“I expected you would say as much. Fortunately, there is one final arrangement we might make,” he said. “In return for sending you away with the antidote and the Avians, you will allow a squad of Avian Honors to accompany you to the Ultar sector to protect my interests. Betray this agreement, and there will be war. If you, for example, take the twins to your master instead of facing the Ultar yourself, thus leaving my knights out of the envoy, that would force me to show all your misadventures on every screen in the galaxy and declare war on the human members of the AP. Many other races would join me against your kind.”

Cissi appeared worried. Loden was harder to read, but I thought I might have an ally there. What could go wrong with an outspoken janitor on my side. Could I justify my actions on Avian Prime?

Maybe, but that didn’t mean anyone would believe my good intentions even if they were allowed to know them.

Others in the room were impossible to read. None of the workers stood as proudly as they had during the Avian song of solidarity. Havna’s guards had the aspect of machines behind their helmet visors.

This was on me. I had one chance to make the right choice.

34

“Deal.” The word tasted sour.

Havna lifted a chain from around his neck. Two very small vials dangled from it. “You chose wisely.”

“Doesn’t feel like it.” I accepted the antidote and concealed the colorless glass containers inside my armor. With my luck, a rail bolt would destroy them, or I would drop them down a drain on accident. “I need my rig. Once I have it and make my way back to my shuttle, I’ll travel to the Soft Touch and make arrangements for your Honors. Word of warning, sleeping arrangements will be tight. How many are there?”

“A dozen,” Havna said.

I winced inwardly. “They will be bunking six to a room.”

The joke went straight into the void without earning a single laugh. I backed away and signaled Cissi to stay with me. “Can I get an escort back to the docks?”

A silver-winged bodyguard stepped forward. His helmet and armor matched his gleaming plumage. He stood a head taller than the others. Broad-shouldered and extremely fit, he looked like the last person here I wanted to fight.

“I am Shredain Kye Rotiac.” He placed one hand on the rail weapon on his hip, effecting the manner of a confident adventurer or general. “I will see you to your machine and lead the Honor until your agreement with Lord Havna is fulfilled.”

“Sounds great, Shred. Let’s get after it.” I waited in vain for his reaction. If the nickname bothered the man, he didn’t let it show.

“We shall go together,” he said. “I know the fortress, but you know the location of your rig. Let us walk side by side.”

“I’ll just follow along like a girl then,” Cissi muttered.

Again, the joke was lost on Shredain Kye Rotiac.

I pointed at her like I would when directing a member of my team. “You’re our rear guard.”

She nodded seriously. Shredain gestured that we should begin, and we started off at a bold pace.

Workers and guards parted before us. We traversed hallways and took elevators that made the journey easier than it had been during the ascent. Shred did know the place, and nearly everyone in it. He greeted many, though by their deference, his station was respected by everyone—more so than was Lord Havna’s.

The docks were busy. Sun streamed in from the canal entrance leading to the lake.

“Did you park it underwater?” Shred asked.

“Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“How did Miss Cissi Strongwing arrive? Not under water surely.”

Cissi answered. “Let’s show him, Breaker.”

I gave the man a reverse chin nod, then approached the water.

“Should I wait?” Cissi asked.

“Yeah. I will give you a signal.”

And then I was swimming to my rig, reviewing the steps in my head, and hoping this worked. Breaker 105 was already flooded. I would strap in as usual, activate seals, and purge all internal chambers and weapons systems.

Purging was nothing new. My squad had encountered contaminants on asteroids, lost worlds, and derelict ships—each required a full or partial purge. I knew the drill.

It was the underwater part that worried me. I’d already noticed the metal feet were sunk deep into the silt. Nothing mattered if I couldn’t get the machine moving when it was powered up.

The hatch opened slowly. I heaved against the weight of the metal and the water around it. After a few inches, the gears caught hold and maximized my effort though all the power still came manually. Navigating by feel more than sight, I stepped into the harness and sealed the rig. Next, I affixed an oxygen mask with voice comms that worked regardless of environment.

Desperation receded as air flowed into my lungs. I’d been a long way from panic, but the inability to breathe never felt good. I secured safety straps, tightened pressure cuffs, and activated the cabin purge. A combination of reserve air flow and tightening of the unit itself squeezed out the water.

I ran a weapons check and put everything else on automatic, relegating the digital reports to a side HUD. In less than two minutes, Breaker 105 was on the move.

Once I was set, I raised my left fist above the water and opened it palm up. Cissi jumped from the dock to the perch I’d made for her. I couldn’t see everything with the pinhole cameras in my gauntlets, but I thought she was giving Shred a satisfied smile.

She spread her arms to encompass the waterway and our progress along the canal. “Easy as gliding.”

Shred laughed good naturedly and I immediately decided he wasn’t the same type of Avian nobility as his lord. “That is a fine image for a story, Miss.”

“Call me Cissi, Shred.”

“Why do both of you refer to me thus?”

“He just shortened your name. Humans do that.”

“Ah, yes. I hear it now. How interesting.”

I could watch and listen, but responding was more difficult so I just marched along the bottom of the canal until the lake came into view. Shred kept pace with us on the dock, and then the rocky shore. He shouted to Cissi, what I couldn’t exactly make out. The dialect was playful. The young woman stood high on the rig even though I’d moved into the shallows and had my waist above the waterline.

Four dark ships dropped out of the clouds. Distant as they were, I nearly missed their appearance. They came in low and raced across the treetops, vanishing from view.

“Cissi, climb down and wade to shore,” I said now that my speaker box worked.

“Why? Aren’t you going onto the beach?”

“I am, but you need to get as far from me as possible. Tell Shred there is going to be trouble and if he can get his Honors here, or whatever he calls his troopers, then he should.” I scanned the horizon, searching for anomalies. Breaker rigs did well in planetary engagements, especially when they were part of a team with qualified CTs and support units.

Too bad I had nothing like that.

I searched for comm channels, hoping to get Shred’s helmet. Avians started using the comms tactic after the misunderstanding. Did he have his turned on? Could I establish a link before hell broke loose? Part of me wondered, not for the first time, how hard it would be to get some version of a ship AI in my rig.

The idea was foolish. How much was I really going to use 105 in my current profession? This was a unique case.

Two ships rose high enough to be seen.

“Are you the one beeping my earpiece?” Shred asked.

“Yeah. That’s me. Sorry if it was loud but we have incoming enemy units and I think they are Breaker rigs.” My heart burned with misery. Would I know the pilots? Had they taken this job with full knowledge of my identity?

I hoped not.

“Do you have some sort of plan, Breaker human?” Shredain asked.

Cissi interrupted with her ear mic. “Don’t add human. It’s rude.”

“My apologies.”

“I’ll head around the edge of the lake and look for terrain I can utilize to draw them away,” I said, wondering if Nova’s plan to hide the Soft Touch had worked. “Contact Havna and get air clearance for my ship. They know how to help me.”

That was a slight exaggeration, but I went with it. I trusted Nova and the others to do everything they could and that would be enough, or it wouldn’t.

“What about me?” Cissi asked. “How can I help?”

“Stay with Shred. Keep your head down and don’t distract either of us.”

Her response was in that Avian dialect I didn’t know but sounded profane and juvenile.

“Nothing personal,” I said. “You don’t have training or gear. Stay alive to fight another day. That’s what I need you to do.”

* * *

The sand was surprisingly good footing considering the weight of Breaker 105. In the void, where ship gravity could be manipulated, mass and all that came with it was less of an issue. Getting acclimated to gravity and atmosphere had been a challenge when we encountered free floating planets, and again when we finally reached Andromeda.

Good old 105 compressed the sand. I expanded the feet to maximum width to increase the effect. Once I was striding comfortably, I began to run. Inertia dampeners cushioned the ride. I barely felt the impact in my harness.

There was a special kind of private laughter possible in my Breaker. Life inside the rig might not be my happy place, but it was all mine, whatever it was. No one could judge me here. I was in the zone, and it felt great.

Three of the mystery shuttles were visible now. I knew what to expect.

Each slowed just enough to deploy the two-legged war machines, then flew straight for me, strafing the beach with high velocity rail bolts. Columns of sand blasted skyward, each impact closer to me than the previous. Some struck shallow water as the tide receded. Others tore apart the fragile turf of sand dunes. Most came straight at me.

Agility wasn’t really a thing in a Breaker. Defying expectations was an almost forgotten passion of mine. Could I dive and roll in this thing? Yeah. I knew it was possible because Saint and I had done it on a dare during training. There were significant problems with the maneuver, especially the part where it could take minutes to recover and recalibrate if anything went wrong.

Leaping sideways looked like a building getting bumped around by an earthquake. The actual distance I could hop to my right or left was significant, it just didn’t look like much due to the bulky profile of the rig.

Up was the way to go. I timed it perfectly and skipped three times, then I landed on both feet and blasted vertically with all the stored kinetic energy the machine could manipulate. Despite how good it felt to cut loose, my effort didn’t set a record. Not even close. Breaker 105 went two meters into the air. I misjudged my balance and pinwheeled my arms and pedaled my legs to land on my feet when I came down.

Inside the rig, I was strapped in with padding that left no gaps between my body and the layers of armor and hydraulics. The only place there was space was around my fingers and face. This allowed me to operate certain controls without causing the machine to move in response to the haptic feedback loop.

My visor, which wasn’t transparent, smashed into my mouth. My hands were smacked against the inside of my control gauntlets. I couldn’t breathe for several strides due to the effort it took to remain upright and moving forward.

But then I was sprinting again, undamaged by the attack shuttle rails.

Three Breakers raced up the beach, straight for me. There was something wrong with their profile. With the sun behind them, the personal war machines were blurred silhouettes.

They seemed faster than I thought possible. Two finger taps, some eye movement, and a blink focused on the leader. Another command gave me its velocity—ten percent faster than my own and accelerating.

Other features came into focus as the distance between us closed. Flat black like the shadows they emerged from, these newer versions were taller and sleeker. I couldn’t see the rail ports but knew they were there. Just as I was writing them off as mostly cosmetic improvements, and attributing their speed to the development of lighter construction, another dropped into view.

Glider wings snapped open. At a glance, this abomination had a wingspan twice as wide as the rig was tall. It sailed over me before I could react. Now I had three dangerous foes charging my front and another blocking my retreat.

This was going to be ugly.

Two of my opponents experimented with the three-skip jump and didn’t do a bad job. This told me several things. One, they hadn’t known the technique but were confident enough to try it right before a battle. Two, they seemed both lighter and more powerful, because they reached three meters despite horrendous technique.

I zoomed in one last time before the shooting started and saw a new word where my rig displayed Breaker 105. These things were labeled Hammer 1, 2, and 3. I assumed the winged clown that had raced overhead was 4 but who knew or cared at this point.

Hammers. Thieving copycats.

I noticed an icon for Havna’s personal airship and pinged it. “Lord Havna.” The title tasted like ash in my mouth. “I really need you to grant air travel rights to the Soft Touch.”

Four motorcycles broke from the trees and sped after the hammers. Soldiers in lightweight armor drove aggressively. Plumes of sand flew from behind the tires. The Hammer combat technicians had chosen well. Simple technology often worked best. Their minimalistic vehicles were more than fast enough to keep up with the rigs they were assigned to. I wondered who they were and if they were any good. Maybe these pilots and techs hadn’t been recruited from old Breakers like me, but it seemed unlikely. We had been a highly skilled, highly specialized group.

I wished Boomer, Kalchev, and Saint were here now. Most of all I longed to hear the voice of Katrina Snow, or Brian Mauler, the CT I’d teamed up with before Snow. Running scans, monitoring power reserves, and managing rail systems was distracting me from attack and defense. A good CT could do all of these things if they were close enough to maintain line of sight comms.

“Honor Shredain Kye Rotiac vouched for your request and I made arrangements. If your ship is not there to help you, that is their failing, not mine. Warrior Shredain will assist once his Honors arrive, and not before. I do not see the vessel in orbit or within Avian Prime’s atmosphere. You may be, how do apes say it, lucking out.”

“Out of luck,” I corrected. “Great. Just fantastic. He can pick up the pieces and send them back to APOP HQ.” I muted the line and opened fire on the left-most Hammer. Once the first burst of rails was away, I shifted one target to the right, then repeated the process until all three of my adversaries had a taste of 105’s wrath.

One returned fire. The other two staggered under direct hits. Shots like that while at full speed were difficult. Their return fire went wide and high.

I jumped, then landed on the middle Hammer, plowing wet sand with his rig as I rode him like a sled. He attempted to latch on with magnets. I might have tried the same tactic if I had a team to shoot my opponent once he or she was disabled. Moving on seemed like a better idea.

Scrambling up in a two-ton war machine on wet sand was a visual spectacle. Sand and surf and hurt feelings flew in all directions. Power cells hummed. Gears and hydraulics protested. I imagined sea gulls fleeing the scene, but didn’t have time to appreciate nature beyond the most archetypal elements. Sea, sky, and beach sand whirled across my HUD screens as I spun to face the next attack.

Enemy rail bolts struck harder than expected. I’d wrongly estimated that lightweight mechs meant lightweight weapons.

Wrong, Breaker. Way to make tactically disastrous assumptions.

I targeted two at once—definitely not a best practice—and blazed away as I shuffled sideways into the sand dunes. The increased cover held, especially now that my maneuvering had placed all four of them on one side of me, negating the fancy wing dude’s flyover trick. Unfortunately, my first victim stood slowly and rejoined his friends. I wasn’t exactly winning this fight, only drawing it out.

“Are you going to answer, or did we do something to earn the silent treatment?” Regina asked.

I whooped loudly. “Void and stars I’m glad to see you!”

“I brought the whole gang, boss.”

The Soft Touch exploded from the lake and raced low across the surface throwing a cloud of water behind her ten meters high. In the background, Lord Havna’s stronghold seemed to watch the fight as though the building itself had eyes and a soul. I suspected a closer examination would show Avians and other sentients lining the walls to spectate.

“Watch out for the Hammer combat shuttles,” I said, then flicked an image of the strangers through the comm channel. “Send away their combat techs if you can.”

“Copy that,” Cates said. “Running interference. Nova wanted me to tell you she is coming in her itsy-bitsy little void fighter, the one that came boxed up with your rig.”

I didn’t ask where she’d found the time to finish assembling it.

Three hammers rushed me with rails blazing. The fourth crouched low and raced farther into the dunes, probably seeking a way to reach my flank.

Cates cursed as his comm activated, indicating he’d been surprised. “Good and bad news, boss. We drove back the combat techs, including two you probably didn’t see. Translation, there are two more Hammers, or whatever the hell they call themselves out there.”

“Thanks, Cates.” I searched the air for additional attack shuttles, and then the tree line in the distance. Nothing registered visually or in the rig’s motion sensors. “Did they make it into the dunes, or are they still in the woods?”

“We’ll have a look,” Cates said. “Regina, run infrared and laser scans if you’ve got time.”

“I always have time for the boss. How did he survive this long without our help? I really want to know.” Regina requested her own screen in my rig HUDs.

Granting it was a no brainer. With practice, she would be a great asset. Maybe not as good as an AI dedicated to my rig, but not bad. Ideas formed while I ducked and weaved to avoid incoming rails. Regina and Nova could help train a CT if I found one of even reasonable skill, or if someone in the squad turned out to have an aptitude for the job.

A two-dimensional map with elevation lines filled the screen. “You are in the middle of the sand dunes, two hundred meters from the beach and eight hundred from the tree line. Please note the limestone canyons. They are deeper and more elaborate than you probably assume.”

“I didn’t see them at all. Thanks, Regina.”

A Hammer charged over a dune and fired down on me as I was moving through the valley between hills.

I pivoted and fired both guns, striking my assailant with multiple rails. The Soft Touch came streaking across the terrain, guns blazing. The Hammer I'd wounded pitched sideways and disappeared.

A second enemy rushed around the dune. A third appeared almost simultaneously to complete the pincer maneuver. I snapped out my rail guns to target each of them. Targeting reticles appeared on the right and left extremes of my vision, but only for a split second before I pressed the trigger pads.

My breaker rig could multitask. My human brain could not. I was switching back and forth between targets. One-oh-five had multiple computer processors to do the job. The enemy I focused on set his feet and aimed. My shots disrupted the attack, though my bolts were too dispersed to penetrate the dark war machine’s protective plates.

I charged up the dune. Evidence of the destroyed Hammer was everywhere, blasted shrubs and bits of metal and ceramic reinforcements. The rig itself lay twisted at an unnatural angle in the next valley. Silver fluid leaked out of its mechanical servos.

A universal alert came from the machine. The pilot was hurt and in trouble. I would help him if I had time, but only after I looked to my own safety.

The Hammers from the pincer maneuver chased me, all thought of strategic maneuvering gone. This was just a race with death at the finish line. They could've gone to help their comrade but had decided killing me was more important.

I knew how many enemies I was facing, but the number seemed abstract and meaningless right now.

I pushed Breaker 105 for more speed, descending a dune and climbing another, then jumping across the next valley when I saw it was narrow.

The first of my pursuers tried the same maneuver and crashed face first into the sandy soil. He was down but not out. I veered toward the limestone canyons to mix it up.

Cates swooped over the comm channel. “That's one down and out. We made sure of it. Where’re you at, boss. Regina and I are feeling spunky.”

“Truth,” the ship AI agreed.

I weaved around a corner to the sound of rails glancing off my rig's armor. “I counted five when we started. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I think two are out of commission.”

Scrambled radio traffic followed. I didn't have time to listen or respond anyway. The canyon wasn't a simple maze. There were steep slopes between some of the walls which turned a simple path into a deadly chute to an unknown destination.

In other places there was water of an unknown depth, and of course there were dead ends. The first I reached could be climbed. Up and over I went, glad when I wasn't shot in my exposed, if very brief, position.

“Three remain,” Regina said. “Observed and confirmed. They have regrouped and are heading your way. Sergeant Nova is inbound.”

“Great.” Abruptly, I reached the end of the canyons. After our desperate meandering through Lord Havna’s facilities, I expected this natural landscape to be even more complex. It probably was, but I had turned inland at some point.

Forests brought their own set of tactical problems. Pursuit was too close. I could hear thundering footsteps on the limestone and feel the vibrations they sent out. “I’m moving into the forest. Regina, if you can map a way to the freight shuttle, that would be great. I also need you to pick up Cissi and a dude named Shred. He'll have a group of Honors that are coming with us.”

“What’s an Honor?” My ship AI asked.

“Some fancy person, I bet.” Cates’s explanation wasn’t that far from the mark. “Like a knight or a cowboy from book screens.”

I resisted the urge to explain further. There were so many things I didn’t know about Shred and what type of man he might be. For now, the leader of the Hammer kill squad was coming for me. That kind of occupied my attention. Just a little bit.

35

I picked him up with an infrared scan that showed heat venting from several parts of his rig. Though the inevitable heat discharge gave away his position, I had to admire the improvement to the rig’s design. Without an intimate knowledge of such machines and understanding what to look for, it would've been difficult to find the war machine.

We were too near each other for comfort. So far, I'd proved to be faster. That wasn't a guarantee. Once he mimicked my moves, his lighter machine would be hard to beat. This new version of a Breaker might also have a longer range and improved battery life. My rig generated power on the move, and I assumed the Hammer did as well. The batteries were still the weak link when it came to longevity. If his outperformed mine, then I was on the clock—my back to the wall, so to speak.

Standing toe to toe was a bad idea even though I was taller and thicker and had the appearance of being more rugged. I'd been lucky so far. Negotiating would be dangerous. Enemy Breaker units, or Hammers or whatever, didn’t get along well after blood had been spilt.

My HUD vented more heat than normal, an obvious result of running without a combat tech to tweak things when I was too busy to manage it myself. It seemed like I had plenty of ammo, but that never turned out to be the case.

“Nice copy,” I said on a general channel I suspected my adversary would access.

“Improvement, you mean.” The voice was unfamiliar and young. He spoke like a professional soldier. I imagined him as fit and dedicated to excellence. “You should have stayed retired along with that hideous patchwork of outdated parts.”

“Ouch. Tell me how you really feel.” I checked the area around me for sneak attacks and confirmed it was just the two of us. “Who gets the credit for this new and improved design? I’ll send him a write-up of what to fix after we’re done because you’ll be dead or walking home.”

He didn't take the bait. “You're better off not knowing. Order your ship to surrender the twins and any other contraband you're harboring and give me the antidote vials.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Don't play the fool, Breaker. Our intelligence is better than yours, and our funding more consistent.” He crouched and moved sideways, aiming his right arm rail.

I made a note. This soldier might have a favorite side I could exploit. That could become important very soon. “Can you give me a clue at least? I was just taking in the scenery, exploring the countryside when you attacked without provocation. Rude.” My last comment made me think of phrases Yolo and Woods were teaching Cissi.

“He said you were a smart ass once the rails started flying.”

I squatted slightly lower to avoid the scan he was obviously running. “He?”

“Stop asking questions. Do your duty. Surrender the contraband and comply.”

That was a clue. Maybe. Probably. Though I didn’t like what it suggested. Did the master of this secret team of experimental war machinery work for the Alliance of Planets? Could it be Morales, my most trusted mentor. Admiral Chan of the APF or Director Lively of the APOP? Or might it be someone else with intimate knowledge of my past and my team?

“Where are you, Breaker? The stories never said you were a coward.”

I carefully relocated as he talked. Once his mouth warmed up he couldn’t stop. Demands to surrender, insults to my reputation and my rig, and promises his boss would do the right thing and place 105 in a museum somewhere after this was over—that was just the start of his monologue.

I wasn’t a fan of speeches in fiction or in real life.

“We can’t see you in the trees, and we can’t stay for long. The clearance mandate Havna secured has a freaking time limit. Who does that? We are all impressed you got a pass from him, by the way. But still.” Cates reported. “Have you made it to the freight shuttle?”

“Not yet. Stop talking. I’ve got an idea.”

“Finito on the talk-o. Cates out. Good luck. Sorry, I’m just really jazzed right now. Flying in atmo is a blast. I might have peed my pants a little bit.”

“Please tell me it’s a good idea. I have ammunition and fuel for one more run.” Nova talked over the Soft Touch pilot. “Can you set up a shot?”

Images of Cates herding a Hammer into a ravine played on a loop in my imagination. Maybe, with Nova’s help, I could trash the leader of the Hammer squad.

“You got a name?” I asked my opponent.

“Call me Mark.”

“Rank?”

“One rank higher than yours, no matter how high you rise.”

I considered that response and thought he’d put too much emphasis on the statement. Getting promoted had never been a goal, but the natural progression of doing the work and gathering seniority. This guy was a climber. That meant something. Had he volunteered to pilot a rig because he loved it and was ready to do the work, or did he think only of the prestige that came with the assignment?

Worry about that later. I edged closer to the tree line, then surveyed the limestone canyons and the sky above. Neither the Soft Touch nor Nova’s fighter were visible. Local air patrol hadn’t responded either, but I assumed they would be on the way.

“I see you, Breaker.”

“Congratulations.” My power was good, and all sections of my rig were in the green. “I’d love to chat, but I have places to be.”

“No, you have to fight me.”

I burst from the trees and rushed down a slight decline to pick up speed. A rear camera searched for pursuit, but more importantly, rockets or rails. If Hammer Mark was smart, he’d shoot me while I was traversing the open area in a straight line.

Ready to change course and discharge chaff and flares to confound rocket attacks, I counted the seconds before reaching the rocky area that suddenly seemed really far away.

Behind me was the forest. Ahead were sand dunes to the left and the limestone maze to the right. Beyond the dunes was the beach where I noticed an abandoned motorcycle and thought of the combat techs. Had we killed them or were they as quick-witted and resilient as Breaker CTs? I had a soft spot for the profession. No one was braver—or more useful. I wished I had Snow or Mauler with me now.

My attention flicked between the rear camera view and the forward screen. Each HUD was an amalgamation of several pinhole cameras and main cameras with more range and definition. A computer algorithm meshed each view into something easy for my eyes to handle. They glitched as I powered into the first canyon. The fix was easy, but I was too busy to do it.

I looked at my HUD screens as little as possible. The terrain demanded most of my attention anyway. Twice, I nearly fell into a crevasse while scanning for pursuit.

“The Hammer is right behind you, Breaker,” Nova said. “I’m circling until you get him in the open. There is something like a ramp coming up. Damn, I lost sight of it. But it looks like you can get on top of that maze.”

“Good. That was my plan.”

“Worst plan ever, but at least I can take my shot and head back to the Soft Touch.”

“I’m going to bump him down a ravine like Cates did.”

“You’re welcome for the idea,” the corvette pilot said. “Nova, I picked up passengers and need to head for orbit. Time’s up. You better meet me there as soon as you can, or the locals are gonna be pissed.”

I dropped into a shallow trench that ran parallel to a deep ravine. This wasn’t a natural structure. Long ago, there had been something here built by sentients. Running in a crouch wasn’t difficult, not after years of practice, but it did slow down 105 due to structural limitations. About a third of my rig showed.

“You are a disappointment,” Hammer Mark said.

“You know my girlfriend?”

“Uhm, what?” He sounded unsure and off balance.

“Never mind. That’s Breaker humor. Lighten up.”

Limestone crunched under my rig’s feet. I turned a corner and found a narrow bridge running across a deep chasm. This feature appeared natural. If I had time or a CT to scout for me, I could check to see if supports had been added. Butterflies filled my stomach as I went heel to toe across the narrow path, striving for a smooth, gentle gait. Breaker rigs weren’t known for that kind of finesse.

“Nova, if you’re close, this may be your chance. I’m crossing a sketchy bridge. My pursuer may follow.”

“I see you, but I’m farther out than I’d like to be. He will definitely be exposed if he tries that silliness. What are you doing, Breaker? Trying to die? You should know how heavy that rig is.”

A squeal escaped my lips as I simultaneously lost my balance and responded to her jibe.

She laughed more than she should have. “I thought we were supposed to do the chasing.”

While extending my arms for balance and acceleration toward the far edge, I tipped over onto a ledge just wide enough to make me love it forever. My heart pounded. I gasped for breath, only realizing my rig was on its side. Without momentum or a combat tech to assist, this was one of the hardest positions to correct. Lying flat on my back would be easier to recover from. In that case, I could pull back my legs, throw them forward, then sit up forcefully. That would put me in a deep squat. Standing was as easy as breathing from there.

On my side, nothing was aligned to do anything. To add insult to injury, the position also made it hard to draw breath inside the machine.

My cameras focused on Mark. Every villain in this circus had a crazy, dramatic name. Now I was going to get killed by some guy named Mark.

I twisted but couldn’t get up. Void devils this was stupid. Breaker 105 couldn’t go out like this. It wasn’t dignified.

“I should shoot you from here,” Mark said as he appeared at the start of the stone bridge.

“Or you could just go away.” I panted, playing up my helplessness. “This whole place will come down if you start shooting. Have you ever seen a canyon avalanche?”

“You made that up.” Doubt tinged his words, just a little.

“You’re right. Sorry I mentioned it.” I almost wished the fictitious phenomena was a thing. Then he wouldn’t be around to play the video of my predicament. Centimeter by centimeter I wiggled into a better position. “Yes!” Tiny wins felt really important. I got one hand under me. The arm wasn’t strong enough to lift the entire rig, but I was making progress. With a little more effort, I could now rock back and forth…

Mark seemed confused by my outburst, but let it go. “I’d prefer your compliance. Order your ship to surrender Lord Havna’s antidote. And stop wiggling around. It’s undignified.”

“Let me stand up, and we’ll talk about it.”

He aimed a rail with his right hand and rockets from an attachment that slid from his back to his shoulder. The guy wasn’t taking chances. I had to admire him for that. Overkill was the best way to eliminate a dangerous enemy.

“Avalanche!” I twisted the word with a laugh.

He hesitated.

What an idiot. “Come over here and I will give you the codes to my ship.”

“Transmit them.”

I shook my rig’s head. The effect was turtle-like the way that part of the machine was nested between the shoulders. “Doesn’t work like that. You need the chip to activate the total command sequence of my ship and crew.” I really hoped he didn’t recognize the complete void junk for what it was.

He cursed and marched forward, not even trying to be smooth like I had.

“Any time now, Nova,” I said on a separate channel.

“So impatient. This is going to be a long-range shot. You couldn’t have timed this a few minutes earlier when I wasn’t at the far edge of my orbit?”

She was talking pilot-speak for circling a battlefield. Now didn’t seem like the time to discuss jargon. I levered myself to one knee and set the hook deeper in Hammer Mark. “Wait. Just stop. I’ll send you the codes.”

“You already told me you can’t do that. Stay down. Don’t stand up!” The bridge shook under the weight of his pounding feet. His machine was lighter than mine, but that didn’t make it a delicate flower. Bits of rock and dust exploded from the underside and drifted into the darkness below.

“Slow him down,” Nova said.

“Look out, Mark. You’re causing a collapse.”

My warning had the opposite effect despite being a gross exaggeration. He sprinted.

Nova took her shot. I watched rockets racing into the canyon. The speck of her profile peeled away and headed for the stratosphere to rendezvous with the Soft Touch.

The Hammer didn’t lose balance as I had. Super annoying.

I struggled to my feet and fired both rails, hitting him several times in the chest and arresting his progress.

“What about the canyon avalanche?” He asked, betrayal saturating his tone.

“Not a thing, Mark.”

To his credit, he opened fire instead of bemoaning his fate. He spread his feet to both edges of the quivering bridge, aimed, and fired.

I flung myself into the next section of the maze.

Nova’s rockets hit the Hammer high on one shoulder.

He twisted and turned for balance, extended his arms, and somehow pulled off the most amazing recovery I’d ever seen. If we hadn’t been trying to murder each other, I would have offered a complement and a high five.

Unfortunately for him, I now had a good position of cover at the corner and the bridge really was coming apart.

“Go back, Mark. It’s not worth it.”

He rushed forward, firing with his right arm and balancing with his left. Rail bolts shot from the weapon, blowing apart limestone all around me.

I fired once, striking his left shoulder and spinning him around. If he hadn’t been leaning into his sprint, the effect would have been negligible, even on the deteriorating surface. He stumbled, his straight course ruined.

One more shot would finish him, but I found myself leaving cover and extending a hand to grab him. We would probably both go into the abyss, but I had to try. In another time and place, we would have been on the same side.

“Grab my hand!”

He aimed his weapon instead, holding down the trigger as he fell into darkness. Breaker armor could stop rails, but not at point blank range from a rig’s main armament. The Hammer unit fired the energy weapon for the first time as he flailed for purchase that wasn’t there. All I saw was the glow of plasma cutting random patterns and gouging fissures in limestone walls.

It was a flash image. My eyes shut against pain and blood as my helmet came apart on the left side. Bits of ceramic lacerated my face and forehead. One of the rail bolts cut a groove near my temple.

The ground crumbled beneath the weight of my rig. I scrambled backward on the machine’s butt, unable to stay up with what felt like an earthquake all around me. Dust obscured cameras. Glare from exterior light punched holes in my HUDs. Mostly illusion, the images couldn’t withstand the chaos buffeting my senses.

Nova gave orders over and over. I felt like they were for me but couldn’t clear my head. She’d said something like “Don’t you dare fall down there and die.”

Like I would do that.

Blood ran down the collar of my flight suit, eventually soaking me to the waist. It filled my eyes and blurred my vision. Unable to activate the internal purge function due to loss of unit integrity, and unable to use my huge mechanical hands to wipe my face, I was left blinking ineffectively and basically hating life.

At least I didn’t feel the pain yet. And I was alive. The wound had to be superficial despite all the pain and misery it caused.

Nova’s fighter hovered for several moments as she chastised me through comms. “Void hell, Breaker. If I could land and slap you into shape, I would. In about thirty seconds, this ship will cross the point of no return. There won’t be enough fuel to reach the Soft Touch in orbit. Are you hearing me, Breaker?”

I raised one arm and gave her a thumbs-up. Yeah, I get it. You’ve got to go and don’t want to leave me. I tried to talk but the mic for my comms had been vaporized.

“That’s a start,” Nova said. “Head for the freight shuttle. I’ll provide overwatch for as long as possible.”

My legs felt heavy as I pushed 105 toward the forest. Nova climbed for altitude but kept watching as promised. Her presence was something I felt through the haze of my injuries.

“Keep moving, Breaker. You can do it.”

I did a little skip which made her laugh out loud, then raised my metal fists near my head and spoke into the alternate mic. “Thanks, Hot Shot.”

“I’ll allow you to use my nickname once.”

“Sounds like a challenge.”

“Good job playing dead to draw the Hammer into the open,” she said. “Did you plan that?”

“Totally on purpose.”

She didn’t sound like she bought it.

“We will never speak of this,” I said.

“The team will want to hear all about it. I’ll leave it out of the official report.”

“Not a word.” I insisted. Breaker 105 was damaged and needed a tune up. Gears and power cells were meant to provide strength. Now they sapped it. Muscular effort could move my rig in theory. I doubted I could trek all the way to the freight shuttle and return to the Soft Touch. There was no option but to at least try.

“Did Cates recover Cissi?” I asked.

“He did, Breaker. The Avian warriors too. Fathers and Woods are debriefing them. Said something about you agreeing to this.” Nova’s voice crackled as she approached the limit of my rig’s comms. “We need to enact an SOP where you don’t accept contracts until me and at least one other member of the squad reviews the wording.”

“You want red tape? I’ll give you red tape.” Maybe she heard me before the connection died. It was equally likely she thought I was drunk and talking nonsense.

I wasn’t drunk or drugged. An hour later, I climbed into the shuttle and activated the auto recovery function. The ride was rough with my rig’s inertia dampeners on the fritz and my head pounding like a drum. For once, I barely watched the scenery as my shuttle left the planet and linked with the Soft Touch. Sleeping during a planetary launch wasn’t a best practice. I don’t recommend it.

Bits and pieces of the return to the Soft Touch were lost from my memory.

“Why is he covered with blood and glitter?” Yolo asked.

Woods looked down at me as Fathers and Omar pried me out of my rig. “We probably shouldn’t ask. What happens on Avian Prime stays on Avian Prime.”

“You can say that again,” Fathers agreed.

* * *

I leaned back in the command chair as the Soft Touch eased away from the planet. An hour after my squad pried me out of Breaker 105 and tended to my injuries, I was at the helm, unable to relax or rest no matter how much I wanted to. Thirteen twenty-second naps—passing out—had recovered me just enough that now I couldn’t find dreamland if I had a map.

So unfair.

Nova and the others scrambled to make repairs and ensure the ship was ready for transit out of the system. I did the difficult job of sitting in the commander’s chair and checking their progress reports when I had the energy and gave a crap.

With Lord Havna’s help we could have thrown a parade and not been interfered with. AP and APOP ships were strangely absent. My debriefing was done by long range relay, a communication method I’d only used once before. After the Hammer attack, I had expected more of the same in orbit.

No one attacked or threatened the Soft Touch.

I didn’t know if the Avian lord had anything to do with that. It was a question for another time.

Once we were clear of the system, that would change. My boss hadn’t been mollified by my report and promised to deliver the twins and the antidote in the next star cluster, Oron Bablish.

Honor Shredain and his eleven companions accepted their accommodations without a word. The last I’d seen of them, they were standing across the training mat from Faulkner’s NCS squad. It hadn’t been clear if they were going to share the cramped training facility or just stare at each other like boys and girls at their first school dance.

I didn’t have time to find out.

Nova shared the bridge. Concern filled her face. She said nothing, though I knew she would. The longer we worked together, the better she understood the high and low tides of my soul. The galaxy was a collection of political complexities. I knew the truth of it. That didn’t make hard decisions easier.

“Thanks for saving my bacon down there,” I said.

She smiled. “Cates is the real hero if you hear him tell it.”

We shared a laugh.

“Sounds like Cates. Glad to see he finally bonded with Regina. They’re quite a team now.”

Nova nodded her agreement. “What’s next, Breaker?”

I leaned forward to press my elbows onto my knees, using the elaborate chair more like it was a barstool. “Morales has Ocantus and the discs. Glaynia, Morales, Lively, Chan, Havna, and probably anyone else in this galaxy with power want the twins. Each has their own agenda with the Ultar. We have Borm and Fay, the antidote to keep them healthy, and knowledge of the rest. We know what is at stake. That may be the most important thing we’ve learned.”

“Say it. I want to hear it out loud.”

“Transit technology is failing. The Ultar are the key to something even faster.”

“Faster? Try instantaneous.”

“What?” I had gotten sucked into my thoughts. Her declaration sounded far away.

“The Ultar tech allows instantaneous travel as long as they’re willing to sacrifice one of their own to the process. That’s what we’ve been led to believe.” She studied me. “What are you thinking?”

“If a sentient can do a thing, they will.” I held up a hand to forestall interruption. This wasn’t moralizing. “I think the Ultar must already be using the tech.”

Nova’s expression turned to steel. “If they are flashing around Alliance of Planet worlds undetected, that means they have both a strategic and tactical advantage over our military. What are they waiting for? It’s pretty obvious they don’t love us. Why not wipe out humanity and all the other sentients friendly to us?”

“We’re going to find out.”

She paced, stopped, and started pacing again.

“I can cite Havna’s demands. That might save me from criminal charges.” Relief flooded through me the moment I committed to the decision. “I’ll issue orders. You and the rest of the squad will refuse. I will demand compliance under threat of violence.”

“There’s no need for that.” Her voice was low and hard. “Don’t insult our loyalty.”

I didn’t take the bait. “Make it happen, Sergeant. Then we’ll need fuel and provisions. Extra parts. Possibly adjunct crew if we can fit them on the ship with so many passengers already crowding quarters.”

Her look was something I’d never seen. She was right about the absurdity of my orders. No one would buy the charade, and it was an insult to my squad.

Forcing them to comply was the only way to keep them out of jail when this was over, even if they were pushed out of the APOP.

Nova left the bridge. I dimmed the lights and ran star calculations in the dark. Saint wandered into the room an hour later and wordlessly joined me. After a while, he pushed stranger and stranger calculations onto my work screen. We played at Ultar astronavigation without success—unless paired migraines had been the actual goal.

“I like your squad,” Saint said after we’d mercifully put aside math.

“They deserve better.”

“Classic Breaker. Get over yourself, dude. Let someone else share the weight of the galaxy—and don’t get into it with me about whether it has weight. My head already hurts.”

“You look better sober.”

“Well, I feel like death. Actually ate some of Yolo’s lasagna in an attempt to end it all.”

“There are worse ways to go.” I stared at a starscape on the main screen. Regina flew the ship. Neither of us needed to be here for several hours.

“Thanks for saving me, Breaker. Again.”

“What was that?” I hadn’t heard him. My head was full of plots and threats and dangerous new beginnings. When I looked for my old friend, he’d left the bridge.

36

We arrived in Oron Bablish a full day ahead of Director Lively and all my other masters. This was where the tough decisions needed to be made. Everyone was packed into the bridge like it was a family reunion. Emotions ran high. My team was glad for the recent success and not too worried about the future. There would be plenty of freaking out later.

Regina had pushed the Soft Touch hard to get here. Everyone on board had tweaked the transit calculations, always seeking more speed. The diminished effectiveness of transit technology was evident, at least to me. Maybe I was hyper-focused on the problem and saw void demons where there were none—but I was pretty sure that wasn’t the case. This was a real crisis.

Shred turned out to be the biggest surprise. He was not only down to earth and easy to get along with for an Avian nobleman, but a natural talent at transit navigation. I thought Cissi had a crush on him, though there was a prohibition from them developing the relationship. Neither would explain why.

“That is some sweet astronavigation, Shred Man.” Cates leaned forward to review the calculations again, smiling and shaking his head. “Why didn’t I see those variables? Nice. And you ignored half of the calculations that were giving me problems. I didn’t know you could do that. Positive mental attitude, my friend.” He fist-bumped the alien.

“Thanks.” The Avian warrior spread his hands like a human would to express the willingness to throw down, which brought a chuckle. The man was young for his rank, a fan of human culture, and got almost none of our expressions right. “This is my first trip. Everything before this was in-system and computer simulations.” He retained the posture of challenge, an effect made worse by the flex of his silver and white wings.

“Beginners luck,” Regina said. “And to be clear, what Shredain Kye Rotiac ignored should never have been in the formula to begin with.”

Cates carefully pressed down the Avian’s muscular arms. “Wrong gesture, dude.”

“Truly?”

“I’ll explain later.”

“Oh, great beans.”

“Not even an expression,” Yolo chuckled. “But I love it so much.”

Cates continued. “You have no idea how intensely I hate you right now, Shredio. It took me like a year before our ship AI would talk to me. She was practically flirting with you on the first day.”

“Maybe that is because I am no threat to her relationship with her captain,” Shred said.

Cates pushed his hat back. “You say strange stuff, Lord Shred, but you might have something.”

“I am no lord. Failure to correct anyone who addresses me as such is a criminal offense among my people. Shred Man, Shredio, and even Shrediac are fine, but not that. I implore you.” Shred shrugged perfectly this time. He’d picked up the gesture from members of the NCS squad and loved it. His collapsing wings added majesty to the move that fascinated everyone. The earlier variation would also be impressively intimidating when he used it in the right context. “You shorten my name like I am a child, then grant me titles. Humans are nothing if not interesting. Cate-o!”

Cates, Yolo, and Woods fell about themselves laughing at the reversal.

Nova interrupted. “There’s a ship from Jenna’s World. Regina received a request. You have visitors. Three passengers from the Holofax. She’s a third-rate cruise ship. Regina wanted you to know—about the ship’s meager status, and the people who want to see you, of course.”

“Are you going to tell me who they are, or do I just have to risk my life before I even recover?”

Everyone chuckled, answered, or commented in some way. The chaos of having good friends washed over me. This was like a homecoming party without the alcohol or the bad DJ.

“I’ll go with you,” Nova said, closing out her workstation and hanging up her headphones.

Cates reached over and secured them per regulations. No one wanted a loose piece of gear rocketing around the room if a transit got bumpy, which they increasingly did.

Nova blushed. “Thanks, Cates.”

“No problem, Sergeant.”

“Someday I will let you fly the ship,” she said, stealing my joke.

Cate’s grin split his face. “I always fly the ship, Sarge.”

“Hot Shot!” My squad exclaimed loudly and in unison for reasons I didn’t quite follow.

“None of you even know the unfortunate circumstances of that nickname. Try not to corrupt our Avian guests,” Nova said as she stood. “Breaker, let’s flee the immaturity before it’s too late.”

At the doorway I turned back and pointed at everyone before I left. “You better not be drunk when I return. That’s for later, and not on the bridge, or the engine room, or anyplace important.”

“We’re just happy to have you back, boss,” Yolo said. “Aren’t we, Woods?”

The former sniper tipped her hand side to side. “Meh. He’s okay as lieutenants go.”

Nova and I walked through the ship, shaking our heads and commenting on the various personality traits of the team. It was good to be home. Solo missions had never bothered me before, but that one had been sketchy. If I never saw another limestone bridge again, it would be too soon.

We passed a group of Avian Honors and NCS operators doing slow hand-to-hand drills. I’d seen the technique before. It was like a two person kata with the focus on technical perfection and flow.

“Shred and his team are nothing like Havna, or most of his other soldiers, so far as I can tell. I’m not really sure what’s happening.” I thought back to my first encounter with the Avian lord. “They don’t dress the same. Havna and his goons wear a lot of black and dark gray. Havna sure as the expanse doesn’t have a sense of humor.”

Nova studied the silver or white wings of Shredain’s Honor squad. “Maybe he wanted to unload them.”

“Makes sense. Send the rule followers off to die, then replace them with replacements who are more malleable to his will.”

Nova turned one hand up. “It’s a theory. They could also be fantastic actors waiting to steal the twins, our best jokes, and murder us in our sleep.”

“I’m just glad they get along with Faulkner’s people. Could’ve been a long trip with two tactical teams glaring at each other every time they crossed paths.”

“It’s a small ship for this many hard-chargers to share.”

For once, my memory of another cluster of martial personalities didn’t burn me with longing and regret. Boomer, Kalchev, and Saint would fit into this group like they were born to it.

We kept moving. A pair of NCS specialists stood guard at the ramp. I nodded in lieu of a salute.

“LT,” they said.

The Oron Bablish spaceport was simple and clean. Nothing was new, but neither was any of the tech or infrastructure outdated. Seventeen of nineteen landing pads had ships. Most were commercial freighters, two of which were massive, each looming high enough to cast the peculiar shadows of the local sun across an orbital platform. Three were cruise ships, out burning up transit time in the name of expensive vacations to basically nowhere.

Three figures waited near the security booth at the edge of the flight line. One was Avian. Another was female, though tall and hooded. “I should have asked who these people are.”

Nova shifted nervously and didn’t comment.

My suspicion spiked. “Who are we meeting, Sergeant?”

“They’re safe. I think.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Don’t put me in this position,” she said.

Her obvious nervousness worried me. Cynthia Nova was never timid or unsure. The members of this delegation weren’t random travelers. I could tell none of them were my remaining Breaker friends, which was the surprise I half expected.

“Hold up,” came a voice from behind me.

I waited for Saint to saunter forward at his own pace. That was my old friend—demand I wait then take his void-loving sweet time getting here.

Two of the visitors shifted nervously and talked to each other. The woman stood like a statue, the shadows of her hood covering almost every part of her face. She was from my dreams, or nightmares, and definitely from memories of dangerous expeditions.

Her.

“I can’t believe you were going to cut me out of this reunion,” Saint said, then moved ahead of me when I hesitated.

He threw his arms wide and moved in for a hug.

Katrina Snow dropped the hood, smiled like he was her most annoying little brother, and embraced him. She was tall, though nothing like Saint or any of the Breakers. Her athletic form was a few years older, though it almost seemed she had aged in reverse. Whatever life she’d chosen after the third and final wave of humanity arrived in Andromeda had been good for her. Most notably of all, the waist-length hair that she had kept braided had been chopped nearly as short as mine. She could style it, but not much. High cheekbones and full lips made her feminine in the strongest way possible, though her physique was more muscular than most men. Anyone could see she’d been working out. Her physique made a statement through the coat she wore to conceal weapons.

I waited for Saint to move aside, then stood before my combat tech.

No one spoke for a moment.

“I saw your mural on Jenna’s World.”

She pretended annoyance, but I saw a flicker of gratitude in her eyes. We clasped forearms like soldiers, then pulled each other in for a big hug.

Cabs and Ripper shook my hand, nervously excited to be here, though I had no idea why they were part of this.

Katrina held my shoulders. “Damn good to see you, Breaker. I have something to show you.”

We laughed for no reason.

“Is it a puppy?” I asked. Once, long ago, she’d brought me to stare into an asteroid cavern full of spider things, luring me to the scene with the promise of intergalactic puppies.

“We should view it on your ship, and only with people who have clearance,” she said, then pointed at Nova. “Is that Hot Shot?”

Nova shook her head. “In the flesh.”

“Hannah told me you fly a ship reasonably well.”

“High praise,” Nova said dryly.

I addressed Cabs and Ripper. “What can I do for the birdie driver and the thug?”

“We need a change,” Ripper said. “I sort of messed things up with some local gangs. Better for me to leave. Don’t know why Cabs is here.”

“I couldn’t stop thinking of your adventures, ape man,” Cabs said. “Started wondering if I was wasting my life. My boss gave me a one-year leave of absence. Should still have a job when I get back—if you have use for me, that is.”

“Bring him,” Snow said. “And the bad tattoo guy. I’m gonna cover all that crap up with real art.”

“I didn’t agree to anything yet,” Ripper complained. “This ink means something where I’m from.”

Snow ignored him. Soon we were walking ahead of the others, taking our time with conversation. There were so many things I wanted to say, questions I needed to ask, and observations I wondered if I should make about her new career.

“You learned to paint,” I said, unable to stop smiling and just generally feeling good.

“I did. Which relates to what I have to show you.”

“How about a hint.”

“Murder.”

“Wow. That is a hint.”

“There’s not a lot of it on Jenna’s World. Don’t ask me why. I’m not a big important cop like you, but they called me as an expert witness. The pictures I downloaded aren’t the originals. Parts are redacted. Trials on Jenna’s World are public unless the prosecution or defense attorneys convince a judge they should be otherwise.”

“Who were the victims?”

She looked me up and down. “What makes you think more than one person was killed?”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Two Avians and a Razik.”

“A Razik? That’s surprising.”

She snorted humorously. “A triple murder with two Avians isn’t?”

I thought back to Earthdale and the scene. Snow was going to show me something I didn’t want to be real but knew more than ever absolutely was. “There are a lot of Avian deaths going around.”

We worked our way through the ship to the observation deck, which I would lock down for a private viewing once we were there. “I don’t have a lot of room to spare for Cabs and Ripper, and we’re not going anywhere safe.”

“Bring them along,” was all she said with the same confidence as before.

I let the matter drop. “Show me this mysterious thing.”

She removed a small chip from an inside pocket. Her twin rail pistols were briefly visible in her shoulder holsters, and I thought part of her bulk was body armor. The woman was thoroughly kitted out for a painter.

“You must do murals in some rough neighborhoods.”

She dropped her chin slightly. “Breaker, I go out in two basic configurations—armed, and heavily armed.”

“So, you haven’t changed a bit?”

“Nope.”

The screen came to life. A video camera showed a ceiling covered with star maps painted in blood.

“Some of it is blurred out. The lead investigators claim that is to protect the case.”

“They must think there is a suspect still outstanding and want to hold details back in the unlikely event the killer communicates with the police,” I said. “Doesn’t happen often. Who handled the investigation?”

“Jenna’s World Department of Justice, the JWDOJ. They don’t allow the APOP to take lead on anything, though they cooperate in terms of resources and information sharing,” Snow said. “A friend of mine explained it to me after I was called as an expert witness due to my reputation as a street artist.”

“What did the prosecutor want you to testify to?” I had an idea and wanted to check it.

She ran through memories and organized her response without looking away from the bloody painting on the view screen. When she spoke, her attention left the image only reluctantly. “Several things. First, they wanted to eliminate the possibility that it had been done by a local tagger or street painter. I know them all, and their work, so that was easy. Most of the lawyers couldn’t differentiate one tag from another. One deck slug thought murals were gang art. Moron. They wanted me to exclude materials that might have been used to imitate blood.”

I shook my head. “That shouldn’t have been necessary. Their forensic team should have confirmed it was blood.”

“It wasn’t. The prosecutor didn’t like that at first, until I demonstrated that the materials used were rare, expensive, and unpopular among artists because of how difficult they are to use—always dry when you need them wet, and prone to flaking away before you’re done.”

“You told them where the suspect likely obtained the materials, and they were able to prove the suspect was the only person to purchase them?”

She nodded. “Palin Darth was the only customer of those materials during the last several years. It didn’t make their case, but it helped.”

“Tell me about Palin Darth.”

“He was a Razik but mean.”

“Hold on,” I said. “All Raziks are mean. You said was? Did they execute him.”

“Almost immediately.” Snow walked across the room, tracing every detail of the blood-like star map with her eyes. “He didn’t use blood because Raziks are kind of squeamish for all their fierce outward appearance.”

“Who knew?” I filed the information, though I only half believed it. Raziks were the most warlike race I’d ever seen. Apparently, I’d misjudged them completely.

“Darth wasn’t normal, though. I’ve mentored a few Razik painters. They crack me up.”

“Seriously?”

“They all sucked but tried hard. Listened to instructions, did their homework, and never really improved, but void decks, they stuck to it and tipped generously. Pro tip, Raziks either don’t understand money or don’t care about it. When they score, it runs between their fingers like water.”

I watched for clues that she was messing with me, but my old CT seemed earnest. “Did they call a witness on the star map itself? Can you read it?”

“There was a closed meeting between the prosecutor, the defense attorney, the judge, and the navigation expert.”

“Please tell me you know who this person is and where I can find him or her or it.”

“Cabs.”

“Pardon? The cabbie is the expert on bloody star maps? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“He was a professor before they stripped him of his tenure on Avian Prime. Spent half a decade working dive clawgaves and giving plasma to earn enough money to eat and buy passage to Jenna’s World. Avians can give a lot of plasma, by the way. Human medics can use it.”

“You’re dumping knowledge on me like I just woke up from a long cryo-sleep.” The technology was imperfect, illegal, and never used, but the phrase remained in our lexicon. “We can share blood plasma?”

“That surprises you?”

“Yeah.” I shifted gears. “What was Cabs a professor of, and why did he get fired. That isn’t easy to do.”

“Theoretical Astronavigation and Presentation.”

I gave her a blank stare.

“Presentation refers to methods of organizing and communicating the theorems. He doesn’t blood paint but knows a lot about cultures who do—Ultar and Cogs, mostly. Computers are the most common methods of presentation and manipulation, but there are others I’d like to see someday. As for why he was fired, you’ll need to ask him. I don’t think it involves moral or legal violations.”

“What else is there?”

She looked at me like I was dense. “Politics.”

“Right. That checks out. What is the fastest way to become an outcast? Piss off someone with power. Why did he go to Jenna’s World?”

“Random selection—something a scientist having a crisis might do.”

Her point made me chuckle. Good old Cabs, dishing out the trash talk like a pro when he was probably the smartest person I’d ever met. He would get along well with Frank Mirrors and Peter Lehman, my resident intellectuals.

“His real name is Professor Vance Zek, aka Cabs,” Snow said. “Now it’s your turn. What the hell does all this mean?”

“Transit technology is failing. Travel between stars will be impractical in only a few years, maybe sooner. The Ultar may have instantaneous FTL tech that will make what we use irrelevant even before it breaks, or whatever is happening with it. Morales has an Ultar with important artifacts needed to activate the process, and I have a pair of Avians who can negotiate with the Ultar, to barter for the new FTL, presumably.”

“You’re making an ass out of you and me,” she said. “What makes you assume they can or will do that?”

“Everyone wants Ocantus’s discs and the Avian negotiators. Did I tell you about the Hammer rigs that attacked me?” I asked.

“We better get something to drink. This is going to be a long conversation. Do you have a rig?”

Something changed in her eyes, like she both wanted and didn’t want to be a combat tech again.

“I have 105.”

She closed her eyes, let out a breath, and smiled like the deck devil she’d always been. “This is going to be epic.”

* * *

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Wrath will return in STAR DEFENDER. Available on Amazon.

GLOSSARY

CHARACTERS

Alliance of Planets Outworld Police

Sentient Crimes Division (APOP SCD) - Lieutenant Benjamin Wrath, Commander

APOP Soft Touch

- Regina, the ship AI

- prefers only to speak with the unit commander, at least in the beginning

- decommissioned military corvette class warship converted to civilian law enforcement use

Borm

- young avian man

- Fay’s twin

Bozzelli, Yolonda “Yolo”

- born during the Third Transit Mission

- Alliance of Planets Outward Police, Sentient Crime Division (APOP SCD)

- field agent

- prior military in the Alliance of Planet Fleet (Third Transit Armada) as a technology specialist (primarily)

- 1.65 meters tall (5’5”)
- 52 kilograms (114 lbs)
- brown hair, brown eyes

Cabs

- Alien cab driver on Jenna’s World
- Vance Zek
- former professor of astronavigation

Chan, Admiral

- admiral of the Alliance of Planets Fleet, leader of the AP military accordingly

- the APF Jupiter’s Wrath is his flagship

Fathers, Trent

- born during the Third Transit Mission

- Alliance of Planets Outward Police, Sentient Crime Division (APOP SCD)

- field agent

- prior military in the Alliance of Planet Fleet (Third Transit Armada) as a shock trooper

- 2.00 meters tall (6’ 5”)
- 113.4 kilograms (250 lbs)
- blonde hair (short), blue eyes

Faulkner, Tom

- Sergeant of an APOP Non Military Combat Specialist team

Fay

- young Avian woman.

- Borm’s twin

Glaynia

- powerful Ultar woman

Havna, Lord Digesh

- powerful Avian lord on Avian Prime

Jensen, Captain

- APOP supervisor
- perfect uniform
- salt and pepper hair

Kyn, Horantinth

- born on Glosser Prime, home world of his people

- Alliance of Planets Outward Police, Sentient Crime Division (APOP SCD)

- field agent

- prior military unknown (intentionally pulled from official records)

- 1.73 meters tall (5’ 8”)

- 70 kilograms (154 lbs)

- has four arms, two of which are normally concealed

- is completely covered with fibers he can control completely. These have different colors on different sections (and on different sides) that allows him to appear more (or less) human than he is

Lehman, Peter

- born during the Third Transit Mission

- Alliance of Planets Outward Police, Sentient Crime Division (APOP SCD)

- field agent

- prior military in the Alliance of Planet Fleet (Third Transit Armada) as military intelligence, with cross training in research and development

- no known military service
- 1.80 meters tall (5’ 11”)
- 89 kilograms (195 lbs)

- doesn’t appear athletic but this is deceiving

- quiet man who reads a lot

- confident and without malice

Lively

- Director of the Alliance of Planets Outworld Police

Mirrors, Frank

- born on Earth, or so people claim

- Alliance of Planets Outward Police, Sentient Crime Division (APOP SCD)

- forensic scientist

Nova, Cynthia “Cyn” and “Hot Shot”

- born during the Third Transit Mission

- Alliance of Planets Outward Police, Sentient Crime Division (APOP SCD)

- field agent supervisor (sergeant)

- prior military in the Alliance of Planet Fleet (Third Transit Armada) as a pilot (and wing commander)

- 1.73 meters tall (5’ 8”)
- 63 kilograms (140 lbs)
- red brown hair
- green eyes

Ocantus

- Ultar woman in possession of FTL discs

Omar, Kendrick

- born during the Third Transit Mission

- Alliance of Planets Outward Police, Sentient Crime Division (APOP SCD)

- field agent
- prior military classified
- 1.80 meters tall (5’ 11”)
- 89 kilograms (195 lbs)
- black hair
- brown eyes

- fond of tinkering with things, often sleeps in the engineering workshop

Shredain, Kye Rotiac

- first Honor of Lord Havna’s Honor Troop

Smith, Greg David (Ripper)

- Ripper

- a street thug from Perseus Station who has a sister on Jenna’s world, and a younger sister and a younger brother on Earthdale

Snow, Katrina

- former Breaker Combat Technician

- currently a mural painter on Jenna’s World

Woods, Kate

- born during the Third Transit Mission

- Alliance of Planets Outward Police, Sentient Crime Division (APOP SCD)

- field agent

- prior military in the Alliance of Planet Fleet (Third Transit Armada) as a sniper and fleet infantry

- 1.75 meters tall (5’ 9”)
- 68 kilograms (150 lbs)
- dirty blonde hair (varies)
- hazel eyes

Wrath, Benjamin “Breaker 105”

- left the Milky Way galaxy at age four in the Third Transit Mission

- Alliance of Planets Outward Police, Sentient Crime Division (APOP SCD)

- lieutenant
- unit commander
- field agent

- prior military in the Alliance of Planet Fleet (Third Transit Mission) in the Breaker Corps

- 1.88 meters tall (6’ 2”)

- 99 kilograms (220 lbs)

* * *

MISCELLANEOUS

AP standard

- the primary trade language of the AP

Digi-note

- money

Clawgave

- Avian sandwich stands consortium

- unique because of the cultural aversion among Avians to public food preparation

G5

- G5-cocaine (popular drug on Perseus Station and other parts of the AP)

Micro

- Now if you stumble across a major shipment of G5, or K9, or Micro, let me know and I might be able to justify jumping assignments. Shifting resources, you know.”

Rail

- magnetic rail gun

- rail bolt

Railer

- someone who uses a rail gun

- railer = gunman

X9

- X9 pills (illicit, synthetic narcotic often found where there is G5-cocaine)

* * *

ORGANIZATIONS

Alliance of Planets

- aligned planets of several sentient races including Avians, Glossers, humans, Raziks. Ultar are considered part of the AP though they have never formally agreed to anything.

APIA

- Alliance of Planets Internal Affairs

- technically named the APOPIA, but almost always shortened

APOP

- Alliance of Planets Outworld Police

- multi-star system jurisdiction investigating crimes of sentient trafficking, smuggling, and dangerous disorder.

APOP SCD

- Alliance of Planets Sentient Crimes Division

Honors

- Avian martial order of high moral standard, similar to knights of legend

* * *

PLANETS AND OTHER PLACES

Avian Prime - planet

Earthdale - planet

Jenna’s World - planet

Oron Bablish - planet in the star system between Avian Prime and Jenna’s World

Perseus Station - a city in space at the edge between human and Ultar civilizations

* * *

SHIPS

APF Jupiter’s Wrath

- Alliance of Planets Fleet ship

- Flag ship of the APF

APOP Soft Touch

- former military corvette class starship converted to civilian law enforcement use

- Lieutenant Benjamin “Breaker 105” Wrath’s ship

- her ship AI is named Regina

APOP Warhorse

- an old military frigate class starship that saw action in the Transit War, the Transit War Rebellion, and the Arrival war. APOP Captain Jensen’s ship

APOP Justice

- former military destroyer class starship. Director Lively’s flagship

* * *

SENTIENT (ALIEN) RACES

Avian - winged humanoids with a special relation to the Ultar

Human - recently arrived in three waves to the Andromeda Galaxy from the Milky Way

Glosser - humanoid, bipedal race with four arms and the ability to shift fibers across their body to change their appearance. They normally conceal two of their arms, especially when around humans

Razik - large, warlike race that have a surprisingly good sense of humor for the very few people who can speak to them

Ultar - mysterious race of beings quarantined from other sentients at the edge of human colonized Andromeda

* * *

TECHNOLOGY

Transit Drive - technology that allows sentients to travel long distances in space, thus enabling them to travel from one galaxy to another in only a few decades

Rail gun - weapons commonly know as rails. A person using one might be called a railer and so on

Breaker - specialized suit of mechanized armor use for defending against ship boarders, or re-capturing stolen ships

Screen - all variations of computers in all sizes

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ABOUT THE AUTHORS

J. N. Chaney is a USA Today Bestselling author and has a Master's of Fine Arts in Creative Writing. He fancies himself quite the Super Mario Bros. fan. When he isn’t writing or gaming, you can find him online at jnchaney.com.

He migrates often, but was last seen in Las Vegas, NV. Any sightings should be reported, as they are rare.

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Scott Moon has been writing fantasy, science fiction, and urban fantasy since he was a kid. When not reading, writing, or spending time with his awesome family, he enjoys playing the guitar or learning Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu. He loves dogs and plans to have a ranch full of them when he makes it big. One will be a Rottweiler named Frodo. He is also a co-host of the popular Keystroke Medium show. You can find him online at scottmoonwriter.com