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THE LAST SCOUNDREL

STARSHIP BANDITS BOOK TWO

JONATHAN YANEZ

ROSS BUZZELL

BOOKS IN THE STARSHIP BANDITS UNIVERSE

1. Starship Bandits

2. The Last Scoundrel

3. Deadman’s Run

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PROLOGUE: WRONG JUMP

Dax crashed onto the deck with a clatter. Pain shot through his tailbone and elbow after hitting the grate. He looked up to see Dalia grab Kane by the arm and fling him next to the former professor. Kane groaned, looking at Dax as he sat up.

“Alone didn’t work, together didn’t work; what do you suggest we try next!” Dax shouted, wiping blood from his mustache.

“You get in melee range, and I’ll choke her out,” Kane countered.

Dalia stepped over both men. She flashed her tusks at them in a large smile and offered them her hands up.

“Face it, since you both have been working with me, you can’t win,” she teased, waving her hands at them. “I didn’t rough you up too badly, did I?”

Dax grabbed her hand; she yanked him off the ground. He landed on his back, and a bolt of pain shot through his spine from landing on the waffle grate. Kane followed suit. He leaned forward, rubbing his back.

“We need to pad these floors if you’re going to keep throwing us around like rag dolls,” Kane replied.

Dalia gave him a playful pat on the back.

“How would it toughen you up, then?” she asked.

“The guy’s as tough as a coffin nail,” Dax said, rubbing his elbow. “I literally don’t think he can get tougher.”

“One can always get tougher,” Kane replied.

“Guys!” Mark’s voice carried from the main deck. “We’re coming out of our Leap!”

“Coming,” Dalia replied.

As she walked out of the room, each heavy step rattled the floor grates.

“Think this salvage will get us enough to actually fix up the ship?” Kane asked.

Dax knelt by one of the loose bolts and started to tighten it by hand.

“We made a little profit off the last two,” he replied.

“Enough to fill the auxiliary tanks isn’t making a profit. It’s breaking even for the previous jobs that we took a loss on,” Kane countered.

After he tightened the bolt, Dax stood up, testing the grate with his foot. It didn’t rattle. With an approving nod, he followed Dalia. As he entered the main deck, he held up a hand, blocking the welding arcs from Mark fixing some loose siding.

“I thought you said we were about to drop out of Leap,” Dax said.

“We are; just doing some last-minute repairs,” Mark replied.

He shut off the welder and climbed down. As he secured his equipment, he turned around, the peach fuzz on his upper lip even more prevalent.

“That caterpillar’s looking worse by the day,” Kane taunted, walking onto the deck as well. “You want a display of a good mustache, take a look at Tom Selleck over here.”

He motioned at Dax.

“I’m getting there,” Mark countered.

“Shave then, will you… please!” Dax pleaded.

“No, it’ll grow!” Mark countered, walking toward the pilot’s seat and sitting down.

“I’ve told you a thousand times, you shave, the hairs will have a hard edge. It’ll look thicker, I promise you,” Dax replied.

“I think you’d look good clean-shaven,” Dalia added.

Silence fell over the crew. Dax turned toward her, his brow furrowed as he mouthed ‘what?’ in confusion. Dalia shrugged, walked over to him and leaned toward his head.

“I don’t know, with how thirsty… did I use that word right?” Dalia asked in a whisper.

“Yeah, good job,” Dax nodded.

“Thank you! I was just thinking if I said something about it, he’d actually shave,” Dalia replied.

“Why didn’t we think of that sooner?” Dax asked.

Dalia shrugged and stood back up.

“Dax, can you take the controls? I need to do something real quick,” Mark asked.

“Yeah, what do you need to do?” Dax teased, approaching the seat.

“Nothing, I’ll be right back!”

Mark slid out of the pilot seat and rushed toward the crew quarters. Dax slid into the seat and buckled himself in. He wiggled his hips slightly, and the chair itself wobbled under him.

“I can’t believe that worked.” Kane chuckled. “Genius move, Dalia.”

“Thank you!” she replied.

“Kane, can you add ‘repair the chair’ to the list?” Dax asked.

“Wobbly again?”

“Yep.”

As Dax moved to one of the consoles to make the notes, he grabbed the ship’s controls. He watched their approach on a side screen. His fingers wrapped around the Leap drive lever, ready to pull it back.

“Mark, whatever you’re doing, hold on. We’re about to drop!” Dax shouted.

“Copy!” the teen replied.

Dalia moved to a side wall, grabbing a large bar specifically installed for her. Kane crouched and grabbed the back of the pilot’s chair.

“Ready!” Mark shouted.

“Dropping in three, two, one!” Dax announced.

He pulled back on the throttle. A down-pitched hum reverberated through the ship. The blue aura in front of the ship faded as a green, orange and blue world rushed toward them before stopping just to their left.

A debris field drifted in front of them, the result of a recent space battle. Dax climbed out of the seat and looked at Dalia.

“Con’s yours,” he said, looking at Kane. “Ready to suit up?”

“Always.”

Both men walked toward their respective suits. As they donned their armor, Dax checked his magnet tool’s charge; it was at one hundred percent. Moving to the airlock, both men stood uncomfortably close to one another.

“Thank you,” Kane said as he double-checked his gear.

“For what?”

“Not making a sardines joke. Mark always makes those when we get in here,” the former soldier replied.

“You ready?” Dalia’s voice crackled over the radio.

“As ever,” Dax replied.

“Have fun, boys!”

The airlock hissed. They were ejected into space. Dax used his thrusters to move into the debris field with Kane close behind. Over the next few hours, they’d found some high-value pieces of what used to be ships.

As they worked, a red glimmer in the black sky caught his attention. He turned to see half a dozen of them. They didn’t shimmer like stars and he swore they weren’t there at the start of their salvage.

“Dalia, are you picking anything up on scanners?” Dax asked.

Static. Dax turned toward Kane.

“Kane, do you have a line to the Junkyard?”

Kane didn’t respond, only static. A knot formed in Dax’s stomach. He grabbed a piece of debris floating next to him. He threw it at Kane. It bounced off his armor, grabbing his attention. He turned toward Dax.

“Can you hear me?” Dax asked, pointing toward his helmet.

Kane’s mouth started to move. He tapped the side of his helmet and spoke once again. Nothing. The former soldier stopped tapping his helmet. His face turned pale as his eyes went wide.

Dax swallowed hard at the fear in Kane’s face. He slowly turned to see six battle cruisers dropping out of Leap. He recognized the design of their ships. Each time, they came with warnings to avoid them at all costs.

“Oh, this isn’t good,” Dax muttered.

1

CAPTURED

Muffled words pulled through the dark of unconsciousness. He tried to move his arms and legs, but they were both held tightly in place by thick pieces of metal. As consciousness returned, he felt the world around him spinning like he’d had too much to drink.

“How do we know he can’t understand us?” one voice asked as his senses started to sharpen.

“He’s unconscious, but if you want, put in the password to shut off the translator,” a second, more refined voice replied.

“And that is?” the first asked.

“Zulozare,” the second replied.

“That’s not very secure,” the first said.

“These creatures are unlike anything I’ve studied before. I doubt they’d be able to guess our system’s passwords, let alone read them,” the second countered.

Several high-pitched beeps rang out from a console. A mechanical vibration just behind his ear shook his skull. As he slowly opened his eyes, the room blurred. A disgustingly guttural language helped guide him back.

Dax shook his head. His shoulder-length hair and mid-chest beard swung greasily against his neck and chest. He blinked the room into focus before pulling on his restraints. An electric hum sounded. He looked up to see his arms held in the same magnetic field they had been for longer than he could remember.

He looked down. His ankles were in the magnetic field as well, holding his feet several inches off the ground. Dax fought against his restraints. As he pulled, they gave way with a little more ease than the last few thousand times he’d fought them. He stopped himself, letting the electromagnetic field snap his hands and feet back into place.

“See? I told you he’d wake up,” the first man called out.

Dax looked at the man who’d been his guard since they were captured. His armor was large, bulky, like it’d be more at home on a Dal’no than him. Next to him was a man, well over six feet with silky white hair, sleek young features and pointed ears. His grayish-black skin offset his golden eyes as he turned toward Dax, his long cloak trailing close behind him.

“That you did, well done!” the dark robed man replied.

He grasped an obsidian staff in both hands. Flanges sat on top of the staff with a gem in the center of their points. A golden emblem was branded into the staff, a hexagon with its top and bottom split by an angled S-looking symbol in the center. In the middle, the S swirled, leaving an opening for a golden dot. Dax snarled at the new figure. The more he spoke, the more the voice started to sound familiar.

“Where’s my team?” Dax asked.

As he spoke, a sharp pain ran up his throat. The taste of iron filled his mouth. He spat a glob of blood which splattered on the smooth metallic floor.

“He asks about them every time he wakes up,” the guard said. “I tell him nothing.”

“Good. and how has he adapted to the most recent operation?”

“His A52879 has activated, healing is in process, and we expect full recovery in three days,” the guard replied.

He waved his hand in the air. A holographic display of Dax’s body appeared, looking like something out of a medical textbook. Dozens of notations marked his body. He only paid attention to the mark indicated by the guard, at the back of his throat.

“Also, as you can see, the attachment to the lungs went smoothly,” the guard replied.

“Good. If he survives it, then we’ll test it on the old one. If he’s a success, we’ll add it to the weapon,” the second man said.

“You’re not answering me,” Dax snarled.

Despite his situation, relief settled into him, knowing at least Kane and Mark were still alive.

“Where is my team?!” he barked.

The stabbing pain in his throat forced him to fall silent.

“Turn on the translator,” the cloaked man said.

The second being, with near snow-white skin, typed into the console, causing the display to vanish. Another buzz shook Dax’s skull.

“You don’t seem to remember me,” the man mused, gliding toward Dax.

As he moved, his hair wafted back, revealing pointed ears.

“I think I’d remember a pointy like you,” Dax countered.

The man stopped. A sly smirk spread over his lips as he looked to the restraints holding Dax.

“You say that as if it’s supposed to be a bad thing. In my society, pointier is better.”

“I don’t care. Where’s my team?!”

“I assure you, like I have a dozen times over, they’re still alive. You and the other two males are truly unique in this galaxy. Not even the extensive records that the Valtakuntera have hold information on you. Your genome is unlike anything I’ve ever seen! It’s truly unique. I have had so much fun tampering with…” The man turned toward the guard while pointing at Dax. “What did he call them that one time?”

“Dormant genes,” the guard replied.

“Ah, yes, dormant genes,” the man replied, turning back around. “I’ve had so much fun turning them on and off, seeing how they manifested, and I must say, I think I’ve found quite the cocktail.”

“Dalia,” Dax cut in. “Is she…”

“She’s still alive as well. The Dal’no race is rare enough. We don’t need to be killing off any more.” He chuckled as he ran his fingers over his staff. “I must say, the mind of your people is truly fascinating. I’d love to understand how it’s able to just forget traumatic memories. It seems like only the old one remembers after each interaction.”

He took a step back as he eyed Dax up and down once more.

“It would be very useful to find out how that works and if it can be transcribed to other species,” he mused as he glided across the sterile room. “My people, the Valtukta, since you don’t seem to remember, recall everything. Every memory, traumatic or not, if we call on it, it comes, and we experience it as if it were the first time again. I’m curious what would happen to your mind if I took that away and you remembered everything I put you through.”

“So, you’re a torturer,” Dax whispered, still hurting his throat.

“Scientist,” the man replied. “Tasked with understanding any new, unknown of this galaxy. And I must say, you… what did you call yourself? Terrans? Are a mystery I’ve only begun to crack even after a year of work.”

“How’d you learn our language enough to translate?” Dax asked.

“Your ship’s systems provided us with the linguistic coding to add to our translators quite easily. From there, it was a matter of proximity to upload it to the rest of the devices,” the man said as if proud of himself. “Your old man is very repetitive. The young one seems to only know the foulest of language.”

“He is a gamer, and believe me, what they say they’ll do to your mother is only about half of it,” Dax taunted. “It’s so much worse!”

In a blur, a sharp pain shot across Dax’s exposed gut. A spatter of blood splashed on a nearby wall. He clenched his teeth as he looked down at a deep gash across his stomach. The staff struck the ground, with a low thud. Dax’s blood dripped off one of the sharpened edges at the staff’s top.

“No one speaks of the Valtakunteress in such a way,” the man snapped.

“You’re going to need to stitch that up,” Dax groaned. “I’ll bleed all over your shiny dark floor.”

The man smirked and motioned to Dax’s stomach. An insatiable itch rippled across the edge of the cut. Fighting his restraints, he let out an agitated growl as the sensation grew to torturous heights. His bleeding stopped. The edges of the gash stitched themselves together. Before the blood could scab, his stomach was healed without a mark.

“How?” Dax asked.

His mind rushed to the different kinds of genetic engineering needed to induce rapid healing. Nothing in their systems could regenerate so quickly.

“If only you could remember,” the staffed man taunted, looking at the guard. “Knock him out and shut off the translator.”

“Yes, Znanstvenk Henuva,” the guard replied.

He tapped on the console. The buzz tickled the base of Dax’s skull.

“I’m going to speak with the other prisoners. If he wakes up and shows signs of further success of the new gland, let me know right away.”

Dax felt a puff of hair in his face. The stench of rotten eggs burned his nose. As he inhaled, his throat and lungs started to burn as if they’d been dipped in acid. Before he could scream in pain, his consciousness faded into the endless abyss he’d spent so much time in.

An untold amount of time passed as his vision started to return. His chest ached. He tried to lift his head. It bobbed to the side. The edges of his consciousness throbbed while slowly expanding. The guard chuckled before walking over to him.

“That gas usually kills its victims. It’s good to see the filtration lining is successful. Now, to see if the gland was successful in isolating and storing it,” the guard said to himself as he marked his workstation.

Dax fought the urge to smirk. Drool dripped from his lips onto the floor. As it hit, smoke sizzled up, eroding tiny bits of the ground under him. He closed his mouth and looked at the base under his feet. He followed the circle that arced around him, coming to the projector that held his hands in place.

The soreness in the back of his throat increased as he tensed the muscles in his neck to lift his head. A bitter spurt erupted from the sore point, filling his mouth with a horrid bitterness. Dax dropped his head and opened his mouth.

A sickly yellowish liquid poured from his mouth and splashed onto the generator at his feet. The metal immediately started to smoke, bubble, and erode. Shock rippled across his guard’s face. The man rushed over to him while drawing a strange-looking weapon from the side of his armor.

“If you knew whatever you were going to dose me with was going to be filtered and isolated into whatever you put in my throat, why not put me in a cell to be safe?” Dax snarled in the alien’s own language.

The guard’s eyes widened. He took a half step back.

“How?” he whimpered.

Dax clenched his teeth. The bitterness in his mouth grew to the point it turned his stomach. If there was any food there, he’d have thrown up. He started to pull on his restraints. The field started to flicker, letting the idea of freedom blossom in the back of his mind for the first time that he could remember.

“I listened,” he growled. “I learned.” The machine started to spark around him. “And while you sat on your hands, I planned my escape.”

The power cell of the handheld weapon started to glow with a soft hum. Dax spat, hitting the man in the eyes. The stench of chemicals burning flesh filled the air as he screamed and backpedaled. Dax’s restraints failed. He dropped to the floor, wiping his lip on his arm. His skin started to sizzle; the pain quickly subsided as the burns healed almost as quickly as they’d appeared.

“Don’t spit on myself, note taken,” he muttered, charging his disabled guard.

2

JAILBREAK

Metal dug into his shoulder as he planted it into the guard’s gut. Dax lifted the man off the ground before slamming him into the metal floor with a clang and a shower of sparks. The weapon clattered out of the alien’s hand as he wiped at his sizzling eyes.

Dax grabbed the sides of his head and spun. A stomach-churning crunch filled the room as the Valtukta’s spine broke, causing his body to fall limp. Panting, the former professor sat up. He grimaced at the unnatural bone protrusion pushing against the skin. He placed his hand on the back of his former guard’s head, pushing his face into the ground as he stood up.

“Okay, it’s time for step two of the plan,” he whispered to himself.

Dax knelt next to the body. Having caught a glimpse of a guard getting out of their armor, he was able to initiate the ejection sequence by manipulating a hidden dial. He pulled the lifeless body of his guard free before wincing and turning his head away.

“Would it kill you to put some clothes on?” he muttered at the naked corpse.

He picked up the body and tossed it over his shoulder. For such a large man, he was surprisingly light. Walking over to the locker Snastvenk Henuva would retrieve his tools from, Dax opened it. He leaned down and placed the body inside the narrow storage unit.

“What do we got, what do we got?” Dax asked himself.

He looked over the contents of the locker. Countless strange tools lined the inside. He’d never seen any of the guards carrying any of them around. With a grunt, he decided to leave the tools in place.

Dax shut the doors. As he turned back to the armor, a soft creak caught his attention. He turned back around. The locker door opened lightly, the body barely too wide to fit. Grumbling to himself, Dax approached the doors. He pushed them shut; they squealed open.

“Are you kidding me?” he huffed.

When he tried to shut them again, they opened once more. Frustration mounted as he grabbed the doors and shoved them shut as hard as he could. He held them in place, his fingertips white and arms trembling from the force he exerted. Slowly, he released the doors. They didn’t move. With a confident sigh, he dusted his hands off.

“There, just like the laundry at home,” he said.

The doors popped open once again.

“Are you freaking kidding me?!” he snarled.

His frustrations quickly ignited into rage. Dax opened the doors and started kicking the corpse. Each blow of his bare foot felt the unnatural crunch of bone. He continued for several more seconds, until the guard was more blob than man. He shut the doors one last time, and this time, they stayed shut.

“There, now was that so hard?” he hissed.

Marching over to the armor, Dax grabbed the suit and picked it up. The bulky suit lifted from the ground with surprising ease. As he stepped into the protective gear, its helmet automatically extended from the back and chest, enclosing his head in the eyeless helm.

The darkness vanished as a screen flickered to life in front of him, showing the room around him. A message blinked across the viewer reading that it was “calibrating to new wearer.” After it disappeared, the armor shrank around him to fit the smaller man.

Dax quickly rushed over to the weapon on the ground. He picked it up and examined it. The alien suit immediately scanned the weapon, showing that it had three hundred shots left. The safety was off while highlighting the full hand squeeze-activated trigger.

“That’s irresponsible. You sneeze while holding this thing and it’ll go off,” he muttered. “Aliens these days can't live with them, can’t live without them.”

Dax took a moment to think about how much his life had changed in such a short space of time. What was more, how he had adapted to these changes. In what world did he think of aliens as a normal day-to-day term?

Walking over to the computer console, Dax studied the readout, pursing his lips. The curvaceous symbols of the Valtukta language were a little harder to translate than cuneiform. He’d seen enough of it through his internment, he was able to piece the words together.

“Zulozare,” Dax whispered.

He entered the code. As he did, tracking beacons for three translators appeared on the screen. To his relief, the other two were on the same deck as himself. He tapped on his tracker. A list of commands appeared, including ‘subject deceased’. He pressed that button; the tracker was switched off.

“Well, I’ll be,” Dax mused.

He quickly memorized the route to the closest translator. Walking over to the door, it automatically slid open. Dax stopped, squinting as he was bombarded by an array of colors.

He stood still, fighting every urge to flinch. The twisted, swirling art on the walls displayed colors he’d never seen before. Every red, blue, and green was brighter, more vibrant. Each black, darker, as if looking into the abyss. It took several minutes for his mind to acclimate to the colors. He stood at attention, squinting as his eyes watered and burned.

While he acclimatized, several guards walked past him. He was too distracted to care, and they paid him no mind. Once reaching equilibrium, he shook off the stun, thinking to himself that he was very lucky no one was curious about his posting.

Dax turned right and walked around the massive, circular prison. Holding cells lined both walls, with strange plants and pieces of art sitting between doors.

This must be the nicest prison ever built, Dax thought to himself. Come on, plants, art? Maybe I should check back in.

He followed his mental picture of the map, stopping just outside the door the second translator marked.

As he approached the door, it slid open. An exhausted and blood-stained Kane hung in the same restraints Dax had. He panted heavily as sweat poured down his body. Bolts of electricity surged through the wrist and ankle cuffs, causing his body to seize. The former soldier didn’t make a noise, despite his face contorting in pain.

“Do you wish to speak now?” his guard asked.

The electricity stopped; Kane dropped limp once again. Dax stepped into the room. As the door slid shut behind him, he moved toward the guard.

“Snanstvenk Henuva has asked me to relieve you. He needs your help with the youngest,” Dax said, doing his best impression of his own guard.

“He actually wants one of us to assist with the weapon?” the guard asked.

Excitement filled his smooth features. A twisted hint of pleasure twinkled in his sinister eyes at the prospect of joining the scientist in his work. While he was distracted, Dax raised the pistol. He held it point-blank to the guard’s face and squeezed his hand without hesitation.

Before the guard could react, a flash of purple light erupted from the edge of the weapon. It didn’t kick in his hand. As he lowered it, a scorched stump of a neck was all Dax could see. The body dropped to its knees before slumping onto the ground. Ash and hair started to rain around Dax as he approached the computer console.

“I’m not falling for your escape setup again,” Kane said, his voice weak. “Not again.”

Dax put in the password; it went through on this console too. He smirked as he shut off the tracker on Kane. As he looked at the holographic interface that floated in front of them, selections followed his eyes. It took a few seconds, but he found the helmet control. As he retracted it, he flashed Kane a wide smile.

“Not a setup,” Dax replied. “Come on, the clock is ticking.”

Hope filled Kane’s face at the sight of Dax.

“You’re alive?” he whispered in disbelief. “I never thought I’d be so happy to see your ugly mug.”

“Yep, no thanks to Snastvenk Henuva,” Dax replied. “Get ready, I’m about to drop you.”

“He’s the one who’s been working on us?” Kane asked.

Dax tapped on the control screen. Kane’s containment shut off. He dropped to the ground, landing on his legs before he ripped the wrist and ankle bands off with his bare hands.

“Yep, and I’ve seen enough experiments to know we’re the controls. What doesn’t kill us, they’re using on Mark,” Dax said.

He knelt by the headless body as ash and hair continued to rain throughout the room. He opened the guard’s suit and pulled the headless corpse out.

“I’m thinking that Mark’s supposed to be this ‘weapon’ they keep talking about,” Dax continued, picking up the body.

“Weapon for what?” Kane asked. “Annoying a populace?”

“No idea.” Dax walked over to the cabinet.

He opened the doors; it held the same instruments and medicines as the one in his cell.

“You seem to have picked up on their language awful quickly,” Kane said as he started to put the armor on.

“Once you learn the intricacies, it was pretty easy to pick up on. The written part was a little trickier to translate.”

The second guard’s armor closed around Kane. The helmet asserted itself, completely covering his face in the same clunky style as the rest of the gear.

“Where are Mark and Dalia?” Kane asked.

Dax knelt, gently setting down the corpse and placing it in the cabinet.

“Mark’s on this floor. I don’t know where Dalia is, but I’ll find out.”

Dax felt around the humanoid’s shoulder. He folded the arm over the corpse’s body as Kane approached.

“Close it and let’s get out of here,” Kane whispered.

“The doors won’t stay shut if I close it right now,” Dax countered.

“How do you know?”

With a hard push against the back of the body’s shoulder, Dax felt a crack. The socket dislocated. Part of the collarbone collapsed. Dax folded the body as small as he could.

“This isn’t my first rodeo,” Dax replied.

“A sane man would have sympathy for them.”

“Good thing there’s no sanity around here.”

“Not after all of that.”

“It’s not so bad,” Dax said, compressing the body deeper into the locker. “It’s like folding laundry.”

“Kid, you’ve got issues.”

“Don’t I know it.”

Closing the doors, Dax removed his hands and leaned back. They stayed shut. With a victorious punch into the air, Dax stood up.

“It worked.”

He turned and pointed at the gun in the holster on Kane’s thigh.

“That doesn’t have a safety. You squeeze it to fire, and apparently, it’s a plasma weapon,” Dax explained. “If we run into anything, let me do the talking, and hopefully we can get Mark without dropping any more bodies.”

“The more there are, the faster they find us,” Kane replied.

“Exactly.”

Kane drew the weapon and inspected it. As he did, Dax tapped on his suit and fidgeted with any dial or switch he could find. Finding one in the armpit caused the helmet to snap shut around his head.

“Seriously?” he asked. “That feels like a serious design flaw.”

“Maybe for humans, but not for pointies,” Kane added. “Now where’s Mark?”

“Outside, four doors down, to the left,” Dax explained. “And just to warn you, the colors out there are a little intense.”

“I think I can handle some colors,” Kane scoffed.

Both men made their way to the door. It slid open, they stepped into the hallway, Kane froze as the door shut behind them. Dax watched closely as another set of guards walked past them. His arm tensed, ready to raise and open fire at a moment’s notice.

To his surprise, he was calm. What would’ve sent adrenaline surging through him now barely caused a flutter in his heart. Once they marched out of range, he turned toward Kane, who quickly shook his head.

“You weren’t kidding about the colors,” the former soldier whispered. “That’s, uh… that’s a little overwhelming.”

“Give it a second. Whatever they did to us, we adapt fast. Let’s get moving,” Dax whispered.

Both men moved into the formation of the guards that passed them. Dax counted the doors. A hiss of one opening filled the hallway, allowing screams to sail out, sending a chill down Dax’s spine.

“Hold formation,” Kane whispered. “We can’t get caught.”

“That’s the plan,” Dax replied, fighting every instinct to run.

As they moved and reached the fourth door, it slid shut. The screams stopped instantly.

“This is Mark’s cell?” Kane asked, a tremble in his voice.

“It is,” Dax replied, a lump forming in his throat. “And if he’s screaming, that means the scientist is in there.”

Kane drew his weapon.

“I’ve got the guard,” he said.

As they stepped toward the door, it slid open. Mark hung from the same devices that had restrained Dax and Kane. Henuva stood in front of him, staff in one hand, a surgical device in the other.

Dried blood stained Mark’s left cheek. The scientist pulled elements from the teen’s right eye as fresh blood stained his face. The scientist didn’t even glance at Dax and Kane, so enthralled with his grisly work he didn’t realize that anyone had entered.

“Another synthetic rod and cone added to your eyes,” Henuva mused. “You’ll be able to see our enemies much better this way. And I have good news. Your friend has adjusted well to his experimental treatment. I didn’t think your kind would be able to survive adding new glands from other races. It looks like the reactivated stem cells are allowing him to thrive. Should the old man survive, you will be outfitted with the same, one step closer to being our ultimate weapon.”

Mark turned his head toward Dax and Kane. The door slid shut behind them. Even with their helmets up, the former professor noticed a familiar grin spread across the teen’s face.

“You monologue way too much,” Mark panted. “And aren’t you a little short for a stormtrooper?”

The scientist turned, following Mark’s eyes. A purple flash from behind Dax filled the room. Hair and ash started to rain throughout the room. Henuva’s eyes widened as he turned with his staff.

The heads-up display tracked the movement of the staff. Before it moved more than a few inches, it’d already provided multiple firing solutions for fatal, non-fatal and disarming options.

Following the disarming option, Dax raised the pistol to intercept and squeezed. Another flash of purple filled the room as a sphere of light erupted from the gun. It struck Henuva’s staff. Sparks of green arced in every direction as his weapon broke in half and flew out of his hand.

Dax charged the man. Lowering his shoulder, he barged into the scientist’s chest, throwing him to the ground. Henuva gasped for air, holding his sternum. The former professor marched over to him and placed a foot on his chest before pointing the gun at his face.

“Always take the old man’s staff,” Mark said with a chuckle.

Mark’s voice was weak, but his joke brought relief to Dax, knowing that if he were in trouble, he wouldn’t have made it. Kane walked over to Mark and broke the wrist and ankle cuffs before catching the teen and gently setting him down.

“How’d you know it was us?” Kane asked.

“Because these guys make Elrond look short and you two aren’t as tall as Elrond,” Mark replied.

Dax kept his eyes locked on the scientist. He reached into the armpit of the armor and retracted the helmet.

“You’re going to tell us where the fourth member of our team and our ship are,” Dax said in the Valtukta language. “And you’re going to do it now, or very bad things will happen to you.”

Fear filled Henuva’s face as Dax spoke in his native tongue.

3

QUESTIONING

Kane helped Mark into the dead guard’s armor. Henuva’s hand moved toward a bracelet on his wrist. Dax leaned forward and shook his head.

“Don’t even think about it,” Dax snarled.

“How do you know our language?” the scientist asked.

“I listened, I paid attention while I was conscious. It’s what I did on my home world, learn unknown languages,” Dax countered.

“I thought you repressed…”

“Your operations. Just because I don’t remember those, doesn’t mean I don’t remember everything in between,” Dax explained. “Now where is the Dal’no?”

“You will not break me,” Henuva sneered.

“We’ll see about that,” Dax replied. “Kane, Mark, get over here. Kane, keep your gun on him. Mark, strip him down. Don’t let him touch anything he’s wearing.”

Both men walked over to Dax. Kane placed his foot on the scientist’s chest and aimed his weapon at their captive’s head. Mark knelt and started to remove his ornate bracelets, decorative necklaces and even the piercings in his ears.

While Mark moved on to the cloak, Dax climbed out of the armor and fidgeted with the bands around his wrists and ankles. After a few moments with no success, Kane waved him over.

“They used their armor to unlock them,” Kane explained, extending his free arm. “Wave them across my forearm.”

Dax obeyed. As he swiped his wrists and ankles, the metallic rings unlocked and fell to the ground.

“Thank you!”

Dax grabbed the rings and climbed back into his armor, leaving his head exposed, and approached Henuva. He knelt next to the scientist and clamped the rings around his wrists and ankles. Mark helped get him to his feet while Kane kept his weapon pointed at the scientist.

“At least this one’s wearing underwear,” Kane mused. “One of the other guards would change right in front of me and he was full commando. Gave the term cruel and unusual punishment a whole other meaning.”

Dax made his way to the computer. With a few taps on the screen, he reactivated the electro-magnetic field. Henuva was pulled off the ground, his arms and legs extended and spread.

“You’ll be executed for laying a hand on the Znanstvenk of Valtakuntera!” Henuva hissed.

“Oh, so Znanstvenk isn’t your full name, then?” Dax asked.

He made his way to the dead body and dragged it toward the cabinet. Dropping the body, he opened it up and started to look at the ‘tools’ inside.

“Which means it’s a title. What’s the title for? Judging from what I’ve seen, my gut reaction is not good things, but then I look at what you’ve done to us, and how you refer to him.” Dax motioned at Mark with the blade. “And I’d think scientist of some sort. I clearly couldn’t find a translation to it.”

He reached up and grabbed a razor-sharp blade. Inspecting it, he walked over toward Mark and Kane before feeling around behind his ear. A small, disk-shaped lump just under the skin graced his fingertips as he looked up expectantly at his captive.

“Alright, stay quiet, then,” Dax said.

He reached back with the blade. A cold, sharp pain radiated across the side of his head as he dragged the knife along the disk’s edge. Blood poured over his fingers. He pushed his skin up, feeling something metal inside. Grabbing it, he pulled, the grinding of metal on his skull causing him to wince as he yanked the device free. Before he could wipe it clean, the cut started to itch as it healed.

“See, I was called a linguistics professor. Studying unknown languages was my job. It’s the reason these gentlemen don’t know what we’re saying…” Dax started.

“I do,” Mark interrupted. “My translator’s working.”

“Well, we’re going to have to cut it out,” Dax said.

Mark winced and shook his head.

“Get to work on mine,” Kane said, stepping in front of Dax. “I want it out.”

The former professor located the device behind Kane’s ear. As he cut open his skin, he looked back up at Henuva, who glared at him.

“This man here’s a soldier; that one knows everything there is about tech, primarily in the coding department,” Dax explained. “Your weapon was smart enough that at the age of fourteen, he hacked our world’s nuclear arsenal and aimed them at our moon. This one…”

Dax yanked out the translator. Kane didn’t even flinch before turning around to reclaim the device before dropping it and stomping on it.

“This one committed at least ten war crimes…”

“Defiling a holy relic intrinsically tied to a recognized religion technically makes it eleven,” Mark chimed in.

“Eleven war crimes,” Dax corrected himself.

“And what about you, what did you do to be branded a criminal?” Henuva asked.

“I killed some people,” Dax replied.

“Murder won’t get you sentenced as an O.G.R.E.” Mark said.

Dax and Kane approached the teen.

“You’re right,” Dax said, looking at Henuva. “He’s right. Murder doesn’t get you sentenced to our little junkyard of a starship.”

Kane grabbed Mark. He immediately started to fight. Dax moved behind Mark. As soon as the blade touched the teen’s head, he stopped thrashing and started to whimper. With a quick slice, a small dribble of blood and a yank, Mark’s translator was removed. He tossed it across the room.

“I could learn something from that,” Mark hissed.

Dax handed over his own translator. The teen immediately started inspecting it.

“You’re their weapon; we need to keep yours active. Mine’s deactivated. You can have fun with this,” Dax said, looking at Kane. “Guard the inside of the door. Anyone comes in, give them a makeover.”

Kane nodded. He rushed toward the door, picking up the gun of Mark’s dead guard. Dax turned back to Henuva.

“Last chance, where is the Dal’no woman that was captured with us?”

“I will never betray the Valtukta empire by giving you that information,” Henuva snarled.

Dax looked the humanoid over. He pursed his lips as his patience quickly ran dry. He took a deep breath, going to a place in his mind he hadn’t gone to in a very long time. All fear, desperation, anger, joy; every emotion melted away, leaving a void in Dax’s heart.

In a time like this he had to ask himself how far he was willing to go in order to save his friends, his crew, and what was Dalia exactly to him? Something more? Something that could be more?

Whatever it takes, you have to get her back, Dax thought to himself. Whatever it takes. You can’t lose her too.

The whisper of his conscience faded to nothingness.

“The human body has two hundred and six bones in it. Your kind looks like it has about the same amount, give or take a few,” Dax said, approaching the scientist.

He inspected Henuva’s hands. Noticing he’d been favoring his right hand when working on Mark, Dax grabbed the tip of his pinky. With a quick pull, he snapped the end joint to the side. Henuva flinched and clenched his jaw at the sound of his bone cracking.

“There’s a threat my people say. ‘I’m going to break every bone in your body,’” Dax explained, moving up one joint and breaking the second. “The problem with that is a lot of bones are large; they can take some effort to break. The hands and feet, on the other hand… heh, see what I did there? Anyway, they hold half the bones in your body and they’re smaller, so much easier to snap.”

Dax grabbed the pinky next to the knuckle. With a powerful yank, he bent the joint to a ninety-degree angle. Henuva groaned in pain, staring at Dax with hate in his eyes.

“Do you want to tell me where she is?”

“You think your torture can break me?” Henuva countered, a twisted chuckle in his tone.

“I prefer the phrase ‘enhanced interrogation techniques’,” Dax countered, his face somber as he looked his enemy dead in the eyes, the void in him growing. “And you will. The only question is, how intact do you want to be by the end of this?”

With another twist of his hand, he snapped the end joint of his ring finger. He noticed a faraway look try to creep across Henuva’s face. Dax slapped him, bringing him back.

“You don’t get to disassociate,” Dax ordered. “You stay present for this entire thing. Know that you can end this at any time by telling us where the Dal’no is.”

With another twist, he snapped the second joint. Rubbing his throat, he shrugged.

“You know what? Whatever you did to my throat, it’s a little bit sore, so I’ll make you a deal. I’ll keep working, and when you feel like talking, just let me know and I’ll stop. Okay?” Dax asked, looking up at the anger-filled eyes of Henuva. “Okay!”

With a pull, he snapped the third joint. Dax worked through Henuva’s right hand. He broke every joint to the knuckle. The scientist remained silent, letting out pained grunts at each crack of bone.

Kane kept his eyes on the door. He remained motionless, not wanting to pull Dax’s attention. Mark kept himself distracted with the translator as he gradually disassembled it. Dax grabbed Henuva’s palm. He felt around for the individual bones inside. Once locating them, he squeezed. They crumbled like sandstone in his iron grip, causing the scientist to whimper.

“What was that?” Dax asked, looking at Henuva. “Were you about to tell me where the Dal’no is?”

Henuva snarled and shook his head.

“So be it!”

With a flick of the blade, he sliced the bottom of the destroyed finger open. Silver blood poured from the wound, revealing the gray bones underneath.

Dax took no joy in the act. He had to force himself to keep going against the screaming of his conscience. But how far would you go to save someone you cared for? This one question fueled him. He didn’t see skin or bones, just a task. Something that had to be done.

“Are you going to tell me, or am I going to have to keep working?” Dax asked.

With a whimper, the scientist leaned forward, whispering directions in a hoarse voice before hanging his head.

“And our ship and equipment?” Dax asked.

Henuva remained silent. Impatience crawled under Dax’s skin like a wave of spiders. With a swipe, he cut the point off the scientist’s right ear before placing it against the other.

“And our ship and equipment?!”

As Henuva relinquished that information as well, Dax dropped the knife and kicked it across the room.

“Thank you very much for your service and pray we never meet again,” Dax said, throwing a picture-perfect right cross that sent Henuva into oblivion. Dax turned toward Kane. “I know where she is, let’s go.”

“Get the staff!” Kane ordered.

Dax put his helmet back up as Mark jumped to his feet, grabbed both halves of the staff and followed.

“You mind telling me what that was?” Mark asked.

“You want to know what got me sentenced as an O.G.R.E.?” Dax asked, looking at the unconscious scientist. “He broke in fifteen minutes…”

“Ten,” Kane corrected.

“Ten, even better,” Dax said, pointing at Henuva.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m one of the people you love,” Mark said, his smile quickly fading. “I am one of the people you love, right?”

Kane handed Mark his extra weapon before activating the teen’s helmet.

“He came and got you, didn’t he?” Kane asked.

“That’s a relieving thought,” Mark replied.

“Mark, follow our lead, move like we do and brace yourself. It’s a lot more colorful out there than it is in here,” Dax ordered.

Dax opened the door. All three men stepped out before it shut behind them. Mark flinched, holding his hand up to protect his eyes.

“You weren’t kidding,” he whispered.

4

HUNT

Dax led Kane and Mark through the large, gradually arched hallway. Heavy boot falls echoed ahead of them, growing louder by the second. With the interrogation done his numbness subsided, causing his heart to pound at the approaching sound. Kane moved in next to him.

“Relax your shoulders,” Kane whispered. “You’re tense; they’ll see it.”

Dax followed his orders. As they pressed on, four guards passed them. One of the rear guards looked straight at them while the others kept their eyes locked forward.

“Hold,” the man shouted.

All four stopped. The man who caught them turned around and looked at the broken staff in Mark’s hand.

“That belongs to Znanstvenk Henuva. Why does he have it?” the guard asked. “And why is it broken?”

“Znanstvenk Henuva was running tests on the Weapon. He was stronger than expected and broke free, snapping the staff,” Dax explained. “We were able to subdue the Weapon, and Znanstvenk Henuva ordered us to get it repaired while he continues his work.”

The other three slowly turned. Their hands drifted to their weapons. Mark took a step closer to Dax and Kane. The former professor’s hand screamed to grab the weapon at his side. It took every ounce of willpower he had not to draw it.

“When it was broken previously, he brought it for repairs himself,” the guard countered. “He didn’t have a child escort the pieces.”

“Was he working on the Weapon?” Dax asked. “The project, which, if successful, will solidify our hold on this galaxy. That will allow us to expand and push beyond our already impressive borders. He’s close to a breakthrough. If you want to interfere with his experiment on the Weapon, by all means, I’ll escort you. We’ll see how well he rewards that unwanted interruption.”

A tense silence gripped the hall as the guard looked each man over closely. With a low growl, he turned his attention back to Dax. The heads-up display tried to read the completely encased guard. It was unable to make any useful calculation with their helmet shielding their face.

Dax’s mouth turned to cotton as he started trying to line up what shots he would take and how he would react if they called his bluff. Seconds passed, each one feeling like an hour. The guard watching them turned and rejoined the group.

“Then get that repaired right away,” he ordered.

As the quad left, Mark let out a long, relieved sigh. Dax leaned forward, his stomach aching from the interaction.

“What’d you tell them?” Mark asked.

“That you broke out and destroyed the staff, that we’re going to get it fixed, and that Henuva’s working on you and doesn’t want to be disturbed,” Dax replied.

“Quick thinking. How much time did you buy us?” Kane asked.

“Hopefully, enough. Come on!”

Dax continued to lead them, following Henuva’s instructions. They reached what served as elevators. He pressed the indicator for down, the ground dropped out from beneath them. Their boots stuck to the floor as they plummeted through a tube, causing Dax’s stomach to lurch into his throat as they fell.

Ten seconds later, the floor came to an abrupt stop. The wall in front of them slid open. Radiation warnings flashed on the H.U.D., stating that they had ten minutes before permanent genetic damage occurred.

Roaring and grinding of metal screeched though the visibly putrid air.

“How’d you know that one would get us here?” Mark asked.

“He said the prison was the second lowest deck, that secondary power generation was on the lowest deck, and that’s where they sent everyone.”

“It’s been at least a year,” Kane said, looking at Dax. “If she’s down here, she likely won’t be alive.”

“We’re finding her,” Dax countered.

“Fan out?” Mark asked.

“Absolutely not. If we run into one of those space elves, we’re going to need all the help we can give each other,” Dax replied. “Plus have you seen any horror movie ever? You know the one. The one with the kids who split up and then get picked off by the giant with the chainsaw and buck teeth. No thank you.”

“Speaking of horror, did you really have to cut off his ear?” Kane asked.

“Just part of it… and that’s what you had a problem with?” Dax asked.

“I wasn’t thrilled about your tactics, but it got us what we wanted,” Kane replied.

“Given we don’t get ourselves nuked in the process, less talking, more walking,” Mark cut in.

All three men stepped out of the elevator. Steam hissed and pipes rattled as an orange light filled the room. Eroded structures stretched in every direction that once served a purpose but had been forgotten decades before. Dax looked at the dilapidated boxes, sealed shut by time as Kane rushed toward one of the corroded structures.

“Reminds me of home,” Mark mused.

“Minus the horrid radiation,” Dax replied.

“Clearly, you didn’t take a close enough look at the Star Tribe’s power source,” Mark chuckled.

Kane started to climb the structure, making his way to the platform thirty feet above their heads.

“Not really. It completely irradiated that entire room.”

“Yeah, it did. I wired it that way, and hardwired it to go off if anyone tampered with it,” Mark replied. “That’s how I know the Junkyard is still in one piece. If they’d taken her apart, it would’ve blown this ship to kingdom come.”

“And what are the chances they didn’t strip everything else out of it?” Dax asked.

“We’ll have to wait and see,” Mark said.

“Smoke,” Kane shouted.

Dax looked up to see the former soldier pointing.

“I see smoke four hundred yards that direction!”

“There’s smoke everywhere,” Mark countered. “You sure you’re seeing the right stuff?”

“It’s steam, and yes, it’s burning black,” Kane replied.

“That’s racist,” Mark countered.

“It’s good to see a year of experiments hasn’t dampened your moral superiority at all,” Dax teased.

Kane jumped from his perch. He landed in front of them with a loud clang that shook the ground. As he stood tall, Dax looked him up and down.

“Knee hurt?” Dax asked.

“Not anymore, and I hardly felt that,” Kane replied.

“Probably some form of suit inertial dampeners,” Mark countered. “I can’t wait to take all of this stuff apart and learn about it.”

“One thing at a time. Kane, did you see a path?” Dax asked.

“There’s a lot of jumping involved, but yeah, follow me,” Kane ordered.

He started in the direction he’d pointed. Leaping onto a pile of grates, he clambered up before leaping to the next platform. Dax quickly followed with Mark close behind. Each leap launched him higher than expected, each shove off the ground launched him further ahead. Keeping close to Kane, he looked back to see Mark staying a few steps behind.

As they reached the top of the platforms, Kane continued to charge forward. He closed in on a nearly twenty-foot gap. Without skipping a beat, he jumped. The former soldier soared over the gap like it was nothing before landing and continuing to run.

“Don’t slow down,” Dax shouted to Mark.

Reaching the gap as well, Dax pushed off the platform as hard as he could. Disbelief gripped him as he cleared the gap and landed nearly fifteen feet beyond, gaining ground on Kane.

Dax slowed and looked back to see Mark jump as well. He landed with surprising grace and bolted past Dax, waving the top of the staff at him.

“Hurry up, old man,” he taunted.

Dax turned back toward his team and started sprinting once more. They grew closer to the pillar of black smoke with each step and leap as the timer continued to tick down to irreparable radiation damage.

“Are you going to let him talk to you that way?” Kane teased.

“I could pass both of you if I wanted, but someone’s got to watch your butts,” Dax replied.

Kane made the next jump. Dax watched Mark closely as he calculated how hard he’d need to push off to make it as well. As the teen leapt, a hooked hand with long claws reached up from the edge of the platform, grabbed Mark’s foot and pulled.

In a panicked scream, Mark disappeared before a loud thud from the impact of metal on metal rang out. Dax drew the weapon at his side. He dropped to his hip, sparks flying around him as he slid over the edge, his suit scraping metal on metal.

At the last moment, Dax reached back and grabbed the edge of his platform. Hanging there for a moment gave him a split second to orient himself. Mark lay in the center of rusted steel. Whatever had grabbed him was gone. He shoved off the wall, spread his legs and landed with a clang, a foot on either side of Mark.

“Something molested Mark,” Dax screamed, his weapon raised. “Like, bad used him like a toy.”

“Hey, it wasn’t that bad,” Mark wheezed, propping himself up on his elbows.

Heavy footfalls echoed through the dilapidated, rusty purgatory. They grew louder until Kane soared over the edge. His gun brought to bear, he landed right behind Dax, their backs toward one another.

“What’d it look like?” Kane asked.

“Gnarled hand, big claw, couldn’t tell if it was scaley or chitinous,” Dax replied.

“It was chitinous,” Mark said, holding tightly to the technology.

“Bug?” Dax asked.

“Couldn’t tell. I lost sight of it when I was being molested,” Mark countered, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

A series of clicks and screeches accompanied the chorus of hissing and rattling pipes. Adrenaline seeped into Dax’s body, causing his lower extremities to tingle as he noticed a pattern to the noise.

“It’s watching us,” Dax whispered.

“No duh. Ambush predators tend to do that,” Kane replied.

“Did he just say ‘no duh’?” Mark asked.

“Not the time,” Kane snapped.

Dax’s eyes darted in every direction. The tight coils of pipes and forgotten overengineering made it next to impossible to see more than a few yards in front of him. From the corner of his eye, a flick of blue caught his attention. It stood out like a highlighter on paper.

He spun, pointing his weapon in the direction of the movement. Kane moved with him, keeping their backs together. Another fleck dashed behind a thin gap in piping. The clicks and screeches continued.

“What’s it saying?” Kane asked.

“How should I know?” Dax asked. “I cut out my translator too if you remember.”

“But you’re the linguist.”

“Yes, and it takes me months to work out a language with continued exposure to it,” Dax countered.

“English?” a twisted, squeaky voice asked from the pipes.

“Did anyone else hear that? Please tell me I’m not the only one that heard that,” Mark asked. “Are the walls speaking English?”

“Not the walls,” Dax whispered.

In a corner, not illuminated by the hellish orange light, a shade of blue became visible. Dax pointed his gun at the outline as his H.U.D. presented him with firing solutions.

“Only handful speak English,” the outline hissed.

“How do you know it?” Dax called out.

“Green mother taught us,” the voice replied.

The creature stepped into the light. Its form was hunched with chitinous coverings. Three fingers adorned each hand and foot with a long, razor-sharp claw on the center of each. It looked at Dax with insectoid eyes. It flashed its rows of razor-sharp teeth like the Dal’no did their tusks. Dax’s eyes narrowed.

“Green mother, is she still alive?” Dax asked.

“What are you doing? That’s clearly a bug, shoot it,” Mark squealed.

“Shut up, kid,” Kane countered. “Or it might molest you some more.”

“It’s good to be back to normal,” Mark muttered.

The humanoid insect looked at each of them. His fingers pulled on filthy, hole-filled burlap clothes.

“Green mother lives, green mother unites, green mother lead,” the bug man replied.

“He talks like Dalia used to,” Kane pointed out.

“That’s not a bad thing,” Dax replied, keeping his eyes locked on the creature. “Take us to the green mother.”

“Reveal faces, show ears!”

Dax raised his arm. He pulled on his suit’s underarm, causing his helmet to retract. Kane did the same thing. Dax turned his head, pulling on his grown-out hair to expose both ears. Kane followed suit. The creature refused to move, shifting only his eyes toward Mark on the ground.

“Take your helmet off, Mark,” Dax ordered.

“And expose myself to those claws? Absolutely not,” Mark countered.

“You got a shot?” Kane asked.

“Yeah,” Dax replied.

“Good.”

Kane put his gun away, leaned over, grabbed Mark and pulled him to his feet like a parent with a toddler going limp. He lifted Mark’s arm and manually retracted his helmet before revealing Mark’s ears.

“No point,” Kane said.

“Good, that Mark, who are you?” the creature asked, motioning toward Kane and Dax.

“I’m Dax, that’s Kane. And we don’t have much longer before the radiation here starts playing Pong with our insides,” Dax said, a hint of impatience in his tone. “Can we please move it along?”

“If not Valtukta, radiation not harmful. Valtukta very sensitive to what down here. Sleek down here for decades, Sleek not hurt. Green mother down here for long time, she not hurt.”

“Then take us to the green mother,” Dax ordered.

With a wave of his claw, Sleek turned and started walking through the labyrinth. Mark tapped his shoulder.

“If Dalia’s his mother, does that mean that you two?” Mark asked.

“No, we never did,” Dax countered. “And Sleek is clearly from an insectoid race.”

“She did a bug?!” Mark exclaimed.

“Just because someone’s called ‘mother’ doesn’t mean they gave birth to them,” Kane said with a defeated sigh.

“Mother Teresa, for example,” Dax added.

“Oh, my bad,” Mark said. “Kind of misunderstood the situation.”

Dax shook his head as they continued to follow Sleek. After a few minutes, they reached the edge of a small, ramshackle town, built with the broken scraps of the rusted power room. In front of a fire stood a hulking figure, draped in burlap. A smile spread across Dax’s face, recognizing the hunch of the shoulders and the muscular build.

“Battle Bonded?” he asked.

5

REUNITED

Dalia turned, her clothes tattered, providing just enough modesty to be considered acceptable in public. She flashed her tusks before a wide smile spread across her face. Without a word, she rushed in a blur of brilliant, near luminescent green. She wrapped her arms around Dax, lifting him off the ground.

“Battle Bonded,” she shouted before looking at Mark and Kane. “Brothers! It’s good to see you’re alive. I thought they’d killed you. Especially you, Mark.”

“Eh, more like experimented on,” Dax replied.

“Hey what does that mean?” Mark asked.

Dalia set Dax down and placed her fists on her hips.

“I’m surprised the alarms haven’t gone off. Usually, the guards activate the alarms the second there’s an escape attempt,” the Dal’no said.

“Well, the guards that usually would set those off are dead. The scientist who experimented on us is currently confined and Dax here managed to convince the pointies not to interfere with the experiments, so he bought us some time,” Mark chimed in.

“I’d imagine only about another twenty minutes,” Dax replied.

“Then we need to leave, now. We can get to the Junkyard before they know we’re missing,” Mark replied.

“In a ship that outguns us, with some form of shielding, since these… beings… are sensitive to radiation, in a craft held together by duct tape and hate. Do you really think we can escape without shutting down some vital systems?” Kane asked. “And when we do, that’ll trigger alarms.”

“Unless alarms already sound,” Sleek chimed in.

He looked up at Dalia. Dax watched him tap his claws together.

“Are you sure?” Dalia asked.

“Green mother save experiments,” Sleek said.

He motioned his hand toward the hidden town. Hundreds of other creatures that looked like Sleek emerged from their hiding places. Some sported pipes with their edges smashed down to sharp points. Others held steel, sheared to a jagged edge with burlap wrapping for their handles.

“They’re experiments?” Dax asked, looking at the creatures.

“How’d you save them?” Kane added.

“I taught them to hunt, I taught them to fight, to do more than what they were sent down here to do,” Dalia replied. “While our native languages are not compatible, it turns out they speak English rather well. Their life expectancy was once eight days. I have not lost one in what feels like months, and they learn very, very quickly.”

“Sleek and family make distraction for green mother escape,” Sleek offered.

“You’d get slaughtered, I couldn’t let you do that,” Dalia replied.

“Depends,” Dax said.

He crossed his arms over his chest while looking at the other creatures. Their colorful carapaces contrasted starkly against their rusty backdrop. He looked back at Kane and Mark, then to Sleek.

“The hangar with impounded ships is just above the prison, it’s a hop, skip and a jump. We get there, I get my hands on a console, and I can wreak all sorts of havoc. And Sleek and his people don’t have to fight at all. If this works out, most of them may even get a taste of freedom.”

“Freedom?!” Sleek asked, his eyes widened.

“Like what?” Dalia asked.

“I’ll open every cell, free every prisoner and science experiment and send every elevator down to this floor so Sleek and his people can come up. From there, we get our ship back, the insanity from the deck below will keep the guards busy while I see if I can limit the range of movement of the elevators from the prison floor to the impound floor.”

As he spoke, Dax’s lungs started to ache. He coughed a few times, refusing to let it throw off his train of thought.

“More prisoners get their ships, we leave in the insanity, using the other craft for cover,” Kane murmured, finishing Dax’s thought. “Not bad.”

“Forgetting one thing, guys,” Mark said, raising a hand. “Mr. ‘Mark’s our new weapon’ is locked up in my cell. You free the prisoners, you free him. What’s stopping him from just walking out and redirecting the guards to our ship?”

“How’s his walking foot?” Kane asked.

“Question retracted,” Mark replied.

Dax coughed a few more times, rubbing his throat.

“Dalia, how many ‘children’ do you have?”

“Sixty-three,” Dalia replied.

“There couldn’t be six more?” Mark asked.

Dax shot the teen a cold glance.

“It’ll be a tight fit, but we can get them all on the Junkyard,” Dax said, ignoring the lump in his throat. “How long until they can be ready?”

“Sleek tribe ready now,” Sleek chimed in.

“Good, then we go now,” Dax replied as he stifled a cough. “Guys, get your helmets back up to be safe.”

He manually re-asserted his helmet. The radiation warning indicated imminent death. Dax turned to Kane and Mark.

“Well, we’re not dead,” Kane mused. “At least not yet.”

“Looks like Sleek was right about the radiation.” Mark chuckled.

“It’s still radiation,” Dax replied, fighting the itch at the back of his throat. “We know how it affects humans; we need to get out of here.”

Sleek clicked and hissed. The entire tribe emerged. Dax looked at Dalia and motioned in front of them.

“You lead the way. We were just going to run over the tops of the pipe redirectors,” Dax explained.

“Let’s go, then,” she said with a wide smile.

She started to run through the twisting and turning path made by the pipes. Dax kept up with the rest, following behind them. As they sprinted, Dax’s heads-up display started to flicker as a critical malfunction notification flashed on the screen before going black.

Dax coughed. His spittle splashed against the inside of the helmet, glowing a soft green. His brow furrowed as he manually retracted his helmet. He glanced back to see Mark and Kane doing the same.

“Radiation fried the circuits. That’s not a good sign for us,” Kane warned.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Dax countered, the lump in his throat growing with each deep exhale.

As they reached the elevators, everyone stopped. The void filled with Sleek and his people. Dax turned toward them. His heart broke for the chronically hunched-over beings. Their bodies were so thin, they appeared closer to death than life.

“These doors will open. When they do, get on them and press the only lit-up emblem on the wall. It will bring you to us. From there, we will escape,” Dax said, rubbing his sore throat.

“Our displays aren’t working. We can’t walk that blind,” Mark said.

“No, but we do have someone who can be our eyes,” Kane replied, looking at Dalia. “We’re going to pretend you are our prisoner and that you’re going to help us with the Dal’no drive core in the Junkyard. Put your hands behind your back.”

Dalia looked at Dax. He shrugged, then nodded in approval.

“I like the idea.”

Dalia placed her hands behind her back as Dax summoned the elevator. In seconds, the wall retracted. All four stepped inside. Sleek watched Dalia as the doors shut like a pet not wanting their owner to leave.

Dax selected the impound hangar before reaching under his arm and summoning the helmet once more. The rusty, metallic air of the backup power generating floor stung his nostrils. Only the glow of his saliva kept him company in the dark.

“Did Znansvenk Henuva do anything to you?” Dax asked, breaking the silence.

“He took bone, blood and tissue samples,” Dalia replied. “After he discovered they already knew all about my people, he sent me underneath to work until the radiation killed me. But it didn’t.”

“They clearly don’t know all about your people then,” Kane replied. “If it was going to kill you, that much exposure would have by now. And, Dax, do us a favor and keep those scientific theories tucked away in that big brain of yours. Let’s keep it focused on our escape.”

“Copy that,” Dax said, coughing once more.

“You good, man?” Mark asked.

“Fine,” Dax replied.

As the elevator slowed. He reached out and grabbed Dalia’s wrists. She reached up, gently grabbing his hand. Even in the dark and through the armor, he felt her touch. The lump in his throat grew as she pulled him forward. Kane and Dax followed.

“HALT!” a voice called out.

Dalia stopped in her tracks. Dax turned his head in the direction of the voice.

“Can I help you?” Dax asked.

“What are you doing with this prisoner?” the person barked.

“She’s one of the crew members of the Junkyard. We can’t seem to get access to the ship’s core. She’s here to help with that process,” Dax replied.

Silence filled the air. Even in his mobile tomb, the tension was thicker than the facial hair on a circus’ bearded lady.

“Remove your helmet,” the guard ordered.

Dax’s stomach dropped. His mouth started to feel warm.

“I’m afraid it’s malfunctioned and stuck in place,” Dax replied, each word dimly illuminating his helmet. “I plan on getting it fixed right after this.”

He felt his arm get yanked into the air.

“Please don’t,” Dax begged.

The switch got flipped. As it did, the helmet retracted. Before the fear and realization he wasn’t a Valtukta, Dax spat a mist of glowing saliva into the guard’s unprotected face.

The guard’s eyes widened as silver filled the aqueous humor. Blisters from radiation burns boiled over his face. He fell back, trying to scream but unable to complete the act. Dax watched, frozen in horror as Dalia stepped forward and broke the guard’s neck.

“What was that?” Dalia asked, taking the gun while looking up at him. “Terrans can spit poison? Where was that on Dal’no’nuuur?”

“Organically, we can’t,” Dax replied. “It was a science experiment to see if I’d survive. I did. I also broke Kane and Mark out before they could do the same to them. We can dig into it later. Right now, how about we do what we came to do.”

Dax turned his attention to the impound hangar. Thousands of ships stretched out below the gantry they stood on. Below, and ahead of them, in the middle of sleek, shimmering vessels in pristine condition, sat a brown rust bucket, ugly as sin.

“There she is,” Dax said, pointing toward their ship. “Recognizable from anywhere.”

“What about Sleek?” Dalia asked.

Dax looked around. To his relief, a control station sat in the middle of the gantry they’d emerged onto. He marched toward it. Spitting the remaining heat out of his mouth, he leaned over the console and inspected it. He gritted his teeth and shook his head as he flipped through the controls.

“That’s not good,” he snarled.

“What’s wrong?” Kane asked, flipping the guard’s dead body over the railing. It fell for several seconds before hitting the ground with a loud clang and spurt of silver.

“Heh, looks like those silvery noodle aquatic toys,” Mark mused.

Kane and Dax looked at him as Dalia called up the elevator to bring them to the hangar floor.

“You guys never had those as kids?” Mark asked. “Oh, come on.”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” Kane replied. “I had good toys like jacks and Slinkies.”

“Oh yeah. I’ve bought those before. Threw them away as soon as I realized how phallic they were,” Dax replied to Mark. “No wonder you are the way you are.”

“Dax, you want to tell us what’s wrong with the controls?” Kane asked.

“Well, I can send all the elevators to the base, I can open every cell and shut off every containment field, but I’m not seeing a way to lock the elevator movements to specific floors, meaning Sleek and his people might stop on floors teeming with guards.”

“Then have Dalia and Kane go down and ride back up with them in case there’s an issue,” Mark suggested, motioning toward Dax. “You know the Junkyard as well as I do. I need you to get her going.”

“Dalia, Kane, you good with that?” Dax asked.

The elevator reached the gantry. Dalia turned and marched back, grabbing Kane by the arm. She stepped into the elevator and pressed the down button before locking eyes with Dax.

“I guess I’m going to have to be,” Kane called out.

“Do it,” she ordered.

The elevator doors shut. The button lights in colors he couldn’t imagine started to flash all through the hangar. A deafening alarm rang through the ship as the warning of a prisoner escape called out in the alien language.

“Let’s get going,” Mark shouted as he rushed to the gantry elevator.

6

ESCAPE

Dax grabbed Mark’s shoulder. He looked at the support struts of the gantry and pulled the teen back.

“That elevator’s too slow to get everyone on before the long ears catch up,” Dax said, drawing the plasma pistol.

“What are you suggesting?” Mark asked.

After putting enough distance between them and his targets, he leaned over the railing and opened fire on the supports. The purple balls of plasma chewed through the metal, causing the supports to fold like wet paper.

The collapsing gantry rang out over the deafening alarm. As it fell, it came to rest on several larger ships under it. The end crashed on a small, sleek vessel, cracking its hull and shattering the cockpit. Dax pulled Mark forward. He approached the steep slant of the fallen gantry; Mark yanked back and shook his head.

“I’m not going down that. We don’t know if it’s even safe,” he protested.

“We’re O.G.R.E.s,” Dax countered. “We’ve been experimented on, fought bugs and now space elves. If we were still orbiting Earth, we’d be dead already. This, this isn’t even slightly dangerous compared to what we’ve faced on a daily basis. And besides, you know what’s a lot more dangerous than a gantry slide? Several dozen angry guards with these!”

Dax held up his pistol before placing it back into the holster. Mark grimaced, groaned and nodded reluctantly.

“I’ve been to water parks. This isn’t much different than a water slide, I guess,” he said, inching his way toward the drop.

“Only waterslides are pretty much guaranteed to be non-lethal, and if people are chasing you, you did something very wrong,” Dax replied.

He grabbed Mark and jumped, pulling the teen with him. Squeals left the young man’s mouth as Dax landed on his hip and leaned back. Sparks flew in every direction as the armor ground against the poorly kept gantry. The former professor lifted a hand to block anything from striking his face, letting go of Mark in the process.

“I’m gunna die! I’m gunna die! I’m gunna die!” Mark screamed.

He slid down in a sitting position, his back toward the ground and head burrowed into his haul of technology. They bounced over the crunched personal craft before hitting the ground and sliding to a stop. Mark slowly lifted his head, elation spread across his face.

“I’m not dead!” he screamed.

He threw his hands in the air, sending the staff and translator flying. His joy quickly vanished as he climbed back to his feet and gathered the pieces up once again.

“Don’t want to lose these,” he said, chuckling.

Dax pulled himself to his feet. He looked back at the streaks they’d left down the metal walkway. His hand went to his side. Even in armor a slide like that used to hurt. He didn’t feel anything from the impact. Curiosity about whether it was from the experiments or the armor tried to creep in. He squashed the scientist in him as the alarms continued to scream.

“Let’s go,” Dax ordered.

Both men turned and rushed toward their bucket of bolts, Junkyard still pristinely painted on its hull. Dax manually opened the outer door before climbing in. He turned around to give Mark a hand up. The teen handed over the technology before climbing in himself.

“I can get in myself,” Mark said. “Go put those in my room.”

Mark rushed to the pilot chair as Dax shifted the technology to one arm while drawing his pistol with his free hand. He raised it and slowly made his way through the ship, clearing it the same way Kane described how he’d clear rooms on missions.

A shout of victory echoed through the ship followed by its engines starting to hum. A nostalgic peace washed over him at the sound, like a warm safety blanket. The peace filled him, pushing out the rush of adrenaline, fear and hate. Entering Mark’s room, he looked around. It was stripped of everything that wasn’t hardwired into the ship. With a snicker, he placed the broken pieces of technology down.

“He’s going to lose it,” Dax said softly to himself.

He kept his gun up before checking Kane’s room, then his own. Both were nothing more than empty boxes of rusted steel.

“Can’t say I’m surprised there,” Dax muttered.

He quickly finished clearing the main deck before returning to the pilot’s seat.

“How’s she looking?” Dax asked.

“Power core’s in place, compressors are working at thirty percent and there’s only moderate leakage in semi-vital systems,” Mark said.

He spun in the chair. It clattered against the ground, rocking in its place. Mark flailed his arms; he rebalanced the seat before leaning against the armrest.

“We’re back, baby,” he announced. “Can you double-check the…”

Shouts caught their attention. Dax looked through the cockpit. The elevators opened. A dozen prisoners poured out of one with guards rushing out of another. Both parties opened fire on one another. Mark spun around before grabbing the weapon systems.

“Want me to help them?” the teen asked.

“We need to take out the guards, not put a hole through the entire vessel,” Dax replied. “I’ll cover their escape; just get the ship ready.”

“She’ll be ready in sixty seconds,” Mark replied.

Dax leaped out of the Junkyard. Rushing across its bow, he put a different ship behind him as one of the prisoners got hit center mass. He fell, ash and blood erupting from his back.

He turned and aimed at the guards. Several plasma rounds hit their armor. They staggered backward, their gear glowing softly from heat transfer. They continued to stand tall, shooting at their unprotected science experiments.

Dax lifted the pistol. He rushed forward to get a better angle on his targets, ignoring the shouts of war between both groups. He aimed at the gantry under their feet. Squeezing the trigger, he sent a sphere of purple plasma ripping through the air. As it struck the floor, it chewed through the metal like it was made of tin foil.

A scream of surprise rose from one of the guards as he dropped through the hole. He extended his hand, catching himself but losing his gun. Two of the other guards turned to help him back up.

“Not on my watch,” Dax said softly.

With two more squeezes of his trigger all three fell, hitting the ground with a loud thud, stunning the remaining guards. The prisoners used the opportunity to rush down the gantry slide. Dax made eye contact with them before waving for the different races to run.

“Get to a ship,” he shouted, hoping their translators were working.

As he looked back toward the gantry, the three remaining guards stood at the railing, their weapons aimed at Dax. He smirked and shrugged, his calm still wrapped warmly around him.

“Hey, guys, you want to talk about this?” Dax asked.

Their weapons started to glow as the elevator doors behind them opened.

“No? Alright then, but before you shoot me, I’d look behind you!”

The guards laughed. As they did, Dax slid his pistol into his holster as Dalia, soaked head to toe in silvery blood, stepped behind them. Her shadow caused the center guard to lower his weapon and slowly turn.

Dalia’s massive fist nearly tore his helmet off with a single punch. Her attack lifted him off his feet and sent him over the gantry railing, plummeting to the ground.

“Best case, that’s disability,” Dax said.

Sleek rushed toward one while Kane slammed into the other. Sleek’s long middle claws drew across the joints in the throat armor. Silver spurted out as the guard dropped to the ground. Kane shoved his pistol under the guard’s chin and squeezed the trigger. A purple light flared from the joints in the helmet as its owner’s body fell limp to the ground.

Dalia looked at the collapsed gantry, then down to Dax. She tilted her head and furrowed her brow. He shrugged and motioned toward the Junkyard. She grabbed Sleek and rushed to the makeshift slide with Kane covering her back. She joined the crowd rushing toward the ground as the roar of spaceship engines filled the hangar.

Three vessels rose into the air. Two turned toward the hangar doors and opened fire. The deafening roar of guns made Dax wince. He holstered his gun, covered his ears, and sprinted toward the Junkyard. The third positioned itself above where he’d just stood, its guns trained on the elevators.

The humanoid insects loaded into the vessel. More explosions of munitions added to the deafening firing of the other ships as rounds soared from the third vessel, ripping into the elevators as their doors opened.

Dalia, Sleek and Kane brought up the rear of the group. They reached the ground as the gantry shook violently before completely falling to the hangar floor. Dust and debris launched into the air, filling the impound lot.

It held position as Dax moved toward his craft’s door; Dalia, Sleek and Kane rushed in. Dax quickly climbed in as well. He closed the door and latched it. A buzzing alarm rang out from the pilot’s seat.

“It’s not sealed,” Mark shouted.

“Freaking kidding me,” Dax huffed.

He opened the door once again before slamming it as hard as he could. Locking it, he turned back to the pilot. Mark gave him a thumbs-up.

“Everyone hang on. This is going to be a little rough,” Mark shouted.

“They’re not putting a dent in the hull,” Kane shouted.

“They don’t have Dal’no cannons on their ship,” Dalia countered. “EVERYBODY DOWN!”

Sleek and the rest of his tribe dropped to the floor, hanging on to what they could. Dax approached Mark’s right side, Kane slid to the left. Both men pressed themselves against the chair to help hold it in place.

Mark rose off the ground as he brought the main guns online. They turned toward the wall the other ships fired at. Their rounds bounced off the alien hull, leaving little more than scratches.

A soft blue light radiated from under the cockpit. Mark’s finger hovered over the trigger as the cannons charged. Impatience started to pull on Dax. He glanced at Kane; the expression on his face showed he felt the same.

“FIRE!” Kane barked.

“We might just have one shot at this. I want to make sure it works,” Mark countered.

Tension-filled seconds passed as the cannons charged. Dax kept his eyes locked on the counter. His body braced for a shot from the ship’s defenses that never came. The gauge hit one hundred percent. Dax grabbed Mark’s hand, squeezing the trigger.

Blue spheres of plasma ripped through the air. They splashed against the ship’s hull. For a split second, the blue hues danced like a hypnotic fire against the metal, enrapturing Dax with their beauty.

In the blink of an eye, the plasma vanished, ripped into the void as the entire wall of the ship was torn free. Mark accelerated with the other three vessels. They shot into the void ahead of the confiscated ships of the Valtukta’s victims.

Dax dug his feet into the floor as the ship rattled and sparked from the strain of their sudden acceleration. He kept his eyes on the void in front of them. Mark fidgeted with the ship’s leap drive.

Kane activated the artificial gravity, helping anchor everyone in place. Screams rose from the passengers behind them. Mark whipped around, showing the massive alien vessel with a tear hundreds of yards long and wide ripped across its side. An armored Valtukta soared at them, legs and arms flailing as geysers of atmosphere leaked from it.

Right before impact, the ship that covered their escape skated in front of them, crashing into the armored man. As his body flew off course, the ship’s engines flared before shifting red and vanishing directly in front of them.

“Was that necessary?” Dax asked, looking at the redirected body spinning into the void.

“That’s rich coming from you,” Mark teased.

He pushed forward on the leap drive. The cosmos took on a blue hue as they lurched through space faster than the speed of light.

7

BRAID

Dax lay in his barren room. His eyes locked on the ceiling as his mind raced, trying to process everything he’d been through. He fought to remember what had been done to him. The image of Mark being experimented on kept playing in his mind over and over again.

He turned his head to the side, inspecting the alien suit of armor that sat menacingly next to him. The stench of burned hair and ash still danced off the piece of equipment.

He sighed, straightening out his jumpsuit before turning toward the wall and curling himself up while resting his head on his forearm. A knock rang through his door. It sounded like a hammer colliding with the metal.

“Come in, Dalia,” he called out.

He turned over and sat back up as the door squealed when she opened it. She glanced behind her before closing the door. Turning toward Dax, she offered him a pitiful smile.

“Battle Bonded, are you well?” she asked.

“I’m good, how are you? How’s Sleek and his tribe?”

“That’s not what I meant,” she said.

She walked across his quarters. In three steps, she was nearly on top of him. Sitting down across from him, she reached out and grabbed Dax’s hand. She looked deep into his eyes.

Her irises flickered with life. Flecks of green and faint hues of yellow he’d never seen before danced across their surfaces. Her warm hand caused his heart to race. He knew where she was going.

“I spoke with Kane. He told me what they did. He and Mark have been working through it with each other. I want to make sure you are okay.”

He forced a smile and gave her hands a squeeze.

“If I’m being honest, I don’t know what happened. I mean, I know what happened, but it’s because I overheard them talking about it,” Dax explained. “I’ve been trying to remember what happened for the last twelve hours, but my memory’s blank. It’s like my brain just deleted the experience.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing?” she asked.

“Only time will tell,” Dax replied. “How are you? Living down there couldn’t have been easy.”

“It was easier than Dal’no’nuur,” she said with a giggle. “No Underbeasts. We had to hunt vermin, but every once in a while, we’d be able to scavenge leftovers from the crew’s garbage. A broken cooling tank meant unlimited drinking water. It wasn’t ideal, but it wasn’t hard.”

Dax turned his attention to the doors. He felt his face grow long with weariness.

“What about Sleek and his people?” Dax asked. “Are they okay?”

“They’re interested in the ship,” she said, still holding his hands. “They’ve never known anything aside from the secondary power level. We’d burn anything that was thrown away in the furnaces. They’d charge backup systems for the ship. They’re glad they don’t have to do that anymore.”

“Think Bleeze’ll be able to find them a home?”

“If anyone could, it’d be him.”

Dalia released him. She reached up and placed her hands on either side of his face. His body instinctively jerked back at her touch. His heart started to race as another surge of adrenaline overtook him. His knee-jerk reaction was to swing. He fought that urge as his head bounced off the steel wall behind him.

In an instant, sweat beaded on his forehead, rolled down the nape of his neck and soaked his chest. He panted, and the room started to pulse around him, closing him in, cutting him off, smothering every labored breath like a thick quilt on a hot summer night. Dalia called his name; he could hardly hear her voice over the tinnitus that deafened him. She grabbed him by his shoulders and laid him on his back.

An unexplainable terror gripped him. He tried to fight it; his will wasn’t strong enough. Every muscle in his body tightened, twisted and cramped as he fought the voice in his head screaming that he was in danger, and he needed to fight.

Dalia quickly straddled him, pinning his arms to his side. He was grateful for it, as he didn’t want to attack her. Leaning over him, she looked deep in his eyes. Her hair fell like thick walls around him, making it feel like it was just them.

“Breathe,” she called out. “Breathe with me!”

Her weight and compression flipped a switch in him, allowing his senses to start to return. Panting, he focused on her full lips and pearly white tusks. Fighting to comply with her instruction, he gradually met her breathing rhythm.

Inhaling and exhaling as one, each breath slowed his heart rate. As it transitioned to his baseline, his heart no longer slammed against his sternum, the rush of adrenaline faded. His senses returned to normal, and his body relaxed under her.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“I am,” he replied.

She gently wiped sweat from his brow before moving to climb off him.

“Don’t,” he whispered, his nerves frayed from the attack. “Pressure helps.”

He was barely able to get the words out as he felt his mind trying to pull him back into panic. With a nod of understanding, Dalia repositioned herself. Lying down on top of him, she rested her heavy head on his chest.

“What is this?” she asked.

“It’s called a panic attack.”

“Did I cause it?” Her voice had a hint of guilt to it.

“No,” Dax replied. “I’m still fragile from the experiments. Touching my face must’ve reminded my subconscious about something it repressed. Pressure helps calm an overstimulated nervous system.”

“Then I’ll stay here as long as you need.”

Dax closed his eyes. He took a series of deep breaths. Dalia’s weight helped keep him focused. After a few minutes, he returned to complete equilibrium.

“I like the sound of your heart,” she whispered, moving a hand to his chest. “It’s strong, peaceful.”

Dax remained silent. He opened his eyes. Part of him wanted to wrap his arms around her, hold her close and ask her to stay. Instead, he tapped her shoulder. Dalia slowly sat up, pulling her mane-like hair out of her face.

“Thank you. I don’t know how long that would’ve gone on without you,” Dax said as he sat up.

“Have you ever had one before?” Dalia enquired.

“Twice,” Dax replied.

“Your family?”

“And when I took my first finger bone,” Dax replied with a nod.

Dalia looked around the room. Seeing the guard’s helmet, she picked it up and placed it behind her. Throwing all her hair back, she glanced at him.

“If you need to talk it through, I could go for a new hairstyle,” she said.

Dax smirked. Ten hours ago, he wouldn’t have ever dreamed about cracking open the vault on the details of what he’d done. With Mark and Kane having witnessed a portion firsthand, he knew it was only a matter of time before that cat clawed its way out of the bag. Wanting her to hear it from him and not from someone else, he reluctantly sat behind her.

Grabbing her hair, he started to braid, letting his mind go blank while he worked once again. As he folded her hair over itself, he spoke in Dal’no, finding the words easier in Dalia’s native tongue than his own. As he opened the mental vault, Dax went into detail on what he did to the men who killed his family. He answered her questions about the science behind some of his decisions. Her tone didn’t hold any judgment as she interacted with him.

As he finished with her hair, he rested his hand on her shoulders, not quite ready to look anyone in the face, let alone her. She reached up, placing a hand on his own.

“If someone is threatened by my tribe, the more terrible the act one commits, the more it shows they care,” Dalia replied.

“It’s how we found you,” Dax scoffed offhandedly.

Dalia turned to face him, her head tilting inquisitively to one side.

“What?” she asked.

“What?” Dax asked back, not realizing what he’d said.

“You said that’s how you found me. What do you mean?”

Dax tapped his toes. He kicked himself for allowing those words to slip from his lips.

“In for a penny, in for a pound,” he muttered. “Do you know Znanstvenk Henuva? One of those pointy-eared guys with a big staff.”

“He was the one who took the samples,” Dalia replied.

“I may have captured him and did the first quarter of that story before he gave up your location,” Dax explained, his cheeks warming in embarrassment.

Dalia’s face lit up at the confession. She leaned close to him.

“I know you are my Battle Bonded, and in your culture, we are not considered ‘together,’ but I am going to kiss you now, Daxter,” she whispered.

He braced himself, ready for the cannonball that bashed into his mouth the last time she’d kissed him. To his surprise, it was gentle this time, caring, unlike anything he’d experienced in the last half a decade. Getting swept up in the passion, he returned the kiss. His heart skipped a beat before she broke away and rested her forehead against his.

“Thank you for saving me,” she whispered.

Dalia stood up and walked out of his room, leaving him sitting, stunned by the whirlwind of emotions that raged within him.

“What was that?” he asked himself, in shock. “Didn’t hate it.”

Pushing off the ground, he stood up and made his way back to the main deck. He looked at the swirling blue in front of the cockpit.

“How much longer is this going to be?” Dax asked.

“Shouldn’t be much longer,” Mark replied.

“What’s taking so long?”

“Who knows if those sticky ears are following us, or have a tracker on the ship, or any of their tech we stole,” Mark explained. “Kane’s been doing scans while I’ve made about fifteen other jumps before stopping at Bleeze’s.”

“Smart move. How far through everything is Kane?”

Mark pressed a button on his controls.

“Kane, how are things looking?” Mark asked.

“Checking the last of Sleek’s people,” Kane replied.

After a few seconds of awkward silence, the radio crackled back to life.

“We’re clear, no trackers discovered.”

“Copy that. Thanks, Kane,” Mark said before looking at Dax. “We’re good. Approaching our drop site. You want to take over so I can get changed as well?”

With a nod, Dax swapped places with Mark. The teen made his way to his room. Dax looked at the ship’s location marker. Once it marked “destination reached,” he pulled back on the leap drive lever.

As their ship slowed, a world of green, brown and blue with swirls of white in the atmosphere appeared in front of them. Dax quickly calculated their entry before putting in Bleeze’s coordinates into the computer. Dax turned, closing in on one of the peninsulas protruding from the planet’s large, singular continent.

“Approaching Pangea,” Dax shouted loud enough for the entire ship to hear.

The squeal of Mark’s door opening filled the main deck. Dax winced.

“What’d those monsters do? You don’t mess with someone’s room,” he screamed.

“And there it is.” Dax chuckled.

8

LAND

The Junkyard soared through clouds as Dax brought it in for a landing. When they burst through a cloud bank, he looked down at the forest beneath them. Trees stood hundreds of feet off the ground. Their branches reached up, gnarled in a desperate attempt to touch the sunlight before the neighboring trees blocked them out.

Dax stuck his pinky into a hole next to his seat. He felt the broken plastic of a switch. Catching it with his nail, he pulled up. With a click, he activated his approach code.

The trees dropped out from under them to the edge of a sheer cliff that ended in writhing, white, foamy water. Dax dropped below the tree line, even went below the cliffs. Water sprayed from the rapids below, hitting the viewport.

“Mark, was it seven or eight?” Dax shouted.

“Eight and a half,” Mark replied. “You go in at eight and you’ll cut this ship in half.”

“Thank you.”

Dax flew to the center of the wide river, avoiding the occasional collapse of part of the cliffs. The rocks tumbled into the water, bringing ancient trees to watery graves. Rounding a bend in the river, he was met with a wall of water from a fall that was worth a hundred Niagaras.

Cresting its top, protruding from the flood of water churning over its edge, were chunks that looked like stone. Dax quickly counted them and lined himself up directly between numbers eight and nine.

They rushed toward the wall of water like they’d done a hundred times before. Butterflies fluttered in Dax’s stomach. He clenched his teeth as every muscle in his body tensed, bracing for the sudden crunch. Like a hundred times before, they punched through the water and into a massive cave.

Dax pulled back on the accelerator, bringing the ship to a hover. He let out a stress-filled sigh as his body relaxed. As he looked around the landing platforms, he found one near an arched carving in the back wall.

“Score,” he muttered.

“What’s a score?” Kane asked, emerging from the back of the ship.

“Parking spot, right next to the entrance.”

“Check if it’s handicapped. Nothing’s worse than thinking you have a good spot just to find out you can’t use it and have to park at the other end of the lot,” Kane teased.

“We both know Bleeze doesn’t have handicapped parking,” Dax countered.

Dax flew over to the spot. He lowered the ship, until the rattle of their contact with the landing pad shook through the vessel. Kane placed his hand on Dax’s shoulder.

“Another happy landing,” the former professor mused.

“Pucker you up a little bit?” Kane asked.

“Not just a little bit; we’re talking full pucker every time. I don’t like flying into things I can’t see past.”

“Nothing wrong with that.”

Dax shut off the ship, unbuckled and stood up.

“Think he’ll be happy to see us?” Dax asked.

“We never brought back the salvage from the last job he gave us,” Kane countered. “What do you think?”

“Maybe we can give him some of the Valtukta tech we left with,” Dalia said, entering from her quarters.

“I’m not sure how comfortable I am with a fence having power armor,” Dax said.

“What about the translators?” Dalia asked. “It’ll be an upgrade from what he makes us wear.”

“I’m not giving up the translator,” Mark scoffed.

He emerged from his room as well, inspecting the disk in his hand very closely.

“I still have a lot to learn from this thing,”

“And the plasma guns are out of the question,” Kane added.

“Then that just leaves the staff,” Dax pointed out.

“That thing isn’t just a staff. It’s like a walking USB stick. If I can repair it, who knows what kind of secrets we’ll uncover!”

“If that’s the case, it may have blueprints for that translator, in which case, it’s the most harmless thing we can offer him,” Dax said. “Bring it with us, and let’s just hope he’s happy to see us alive.”

With that, Dax made his way to the ship’s door. He opened it and hopped down. The rush of water was nearly deafening while the smell of wet cave filled his nostrils. Stepping back, he gave Mark and Kane room to disembark.

Even over the roar of the waterfall, Dax could hear Dalia’s voice. He couldn’t make out what she was saying, but knowing her, she was telling Sleek to make sure he and his people stayed put.

Dalia appeared at the door and jumped out. As she landed, her weight shook the platform. A bolt fell off the bottom of the ship. Kane let out a despondent sigh. He leaned under the craft, picked it up and put it in his pocket.

“We really need to get a new ship,” he muttered.

“I like it; I think it’s quirky,” Dalia countered.

As the group moved toward the carved entrance large enough for almost any species in the galaxy, Dax took a glance at the lot behind him. He recognized most of the crafts parked before him, all of which made theirs look like a Tonka toy found in the dump.

Dax moved to the front of the group as they walked through the hallway carved from the stone. Lights above them turned on from their movement, illuminating the damp, smooth walls.

“Ehh, so gross,” Mark whimpered.

Dax looked back to see the teen wipe his hand on his jumpsuit.

“Why do you keep touching the walls? It’s not going to change from the last time we were here,” Dax said.

“It’d been so long, I thought maybe it had,” Mark replied.

Dax rolled his eyes and shook his head. Looking forward, a large door blocked their path. A quadrupedal being with thick gray skin, a wide, flat face, and anti-aircraft cannons mounted on its back looked at Dax. It nodded toward a bucket mounted on the wall by a rusty nail.

He walked over to the bucket and looked in. Large disks sat inside with metallic bug-like legs on their outer edges. His smile was more of a grimace as he grabbed a disk for each of his teammates.

“Hate this part,” he murmured.

“Don’t we all,” Dalia replied, taking the disk.

Dax placed it over his ear. The legs quickly extended. They gripped the side of his head, not enough to break the skin. They still sent a sharp pinch across his face that dulled to a dim throbbing that wouldn’t go away until the device was removed.

“Glad to see you’re not dead, Dax,” the bouncer said.

His voice was low and slow.

“Thanks, Whirset,” Dax replied.

“What kept you away for so long?” Whirset asked.

“The life of a scrapper is where the work is,” Dax mused. “We’re here to see Bleeze. He in?”

“Bleeze never leaves. Don’t start any trouble.”

Whirset stepped to the side, unblocking the door as much as the near elephant-sized alien could. Dax approached the door. As he pushed on it, the stench of sweat and stale booze flooded into the hallway.

Dax kept his forced smile intact, stepping through the door. A live band comprised of an assortment of species performed in the far corner. The roar of the biggest scoundrels in the galaxy nearly drowned them out.

Mark stepped through, followed by Kane. Dax held up three fingers. Counting to zero, Dalia stepped in. As soon as she did, silence fell over the crowd. The music stopped as everyone turned toward the Dal’no. A strange sense of comfort settled in Dax.

“At least some things never change,” he mused. “Continue.” He spoke in Dalia’s native tongue.

The bar jumped back to life. Dax walked to the bar, his team close behind. He leaned against the bar and asked for a mojito. The E.T.-looking bartender raised what little brow it had before turning and walking away. A woman with blue skin, no hair and pointed ears took the other bartender’s spot.

Without a word, she placed four frosted glasses of pale brown liquid on the bar. Dax grabbed the cup and chugged the bitter, oddly dry drink. The telltale burn of alcohol rushed down his throat, warming his stomach as it settled in.

As Dax set the cup down, Dalia and Kane grabbed theirs and chugged them as well. Mark grabbed his cup. Dax cleared his throat. The teen looked up at him, giving him a sheepish grin.

“Absolutely not,” Dax said, taking the cup. “You’re nowhere near old enough to drink.”

“Come on, in Europe, the legal drinking age is fifteen.”

“We’re not in Europe, or Kansas anymore, Toto,” Kane countered.

“Before I was incarcerated, the U.S. lowered it to seventeen,” Mark countered. “Come on, let a guy live a little.”

Mark grabbed for the drink again. Dax pulled it away and shook his head.

“Kane’s right, we’re not in America,” Dax teased.

“You’re part of the Junkyard,” Dalia said, grabbing the drink from Dax. “And the strongest gets the extra drink.”

She put the cup to her lips and tilted her head back, guzzling the beverage before slamming the empty glass on the bar and letting out a glass-rattling burp.

“Come on, I was going to drink that,” Dax complained.

“Then bring it,” Dalia challenged.

Dax pointed at the sign above the bar. They didn’t need to read the strange emblems printed on the sheet of metal. Everyone knew Whirset broke up any bar fight, literally.

A crackle came over a radio in the center column that held the bottles of booze. The bald bartender leaned toward it. She got her ear closer to the speaker. She eyed Dax and his team before nodding.

“I’ll send them right away,” the bartender said.

She returned to Dax. She grabbed the glasses and placed them in a bin behind the bar.

“He’ll see you now,” she said, nodding to the back wall.

“Thank you,” Dax said.

He pushed off the bar and started toward the back. He kept his eyes darting around the bar. Grungy aliens watched them as they drank. Some were humanoids that looked like animals. Others were more avian, and some were so wrinkly and ugly, they’d be censored if they ever showed up on T.V.

The sensation of all the eyes drilling into them set Dax’s nerves on edge. He clenched his jaw, keeping his eyes locked on the back wall and the tunnel carved into the stone. Whirset would stop any fight inside the bar. Many waited until reaching the ship lot where the Pachymis’ jurisdiction no longer held sway.

Entering the back hallway, Dax followed it to another door. A woman with scaly skin, harsh yellow eyes, dread-like growths and tight leather clothing that left nothing to the imagination waited. She looked Dax up and down, her forked tongue flicking from behind needle-like teeth.

Her clawed hand touched the thick metal door. With a hiss, it lowered into the ground. With a deep, nervous breath, Dax stepped into Bleeze’s office. A hole in the ceiling allowed sunlight to illuminate the ornately decorated room, a testament of opulence to intimidate any who thought to ask a favor from the king.

“Daxter, Kane, Mark, Dalia, what brings you to me?” a low voice rumbled from the shadows on the far end of the room.

“Bleeze, we’ve seen you; the intimidating voice thing only worked before we did. Get out here,” Dax called out.

“Hahaha! It’s good to see you, boy!” Bleeze called out, his voice lightened. “You were always my second favorite.”

“Wait, second?” Dax asked, offended.

“Don’t push it,” Bleeze joked.

A man with long gray hair pulled back in a loose ponytail limped out of the shadows. His clothes were well worn but clean. One of his arms stroked at his chest-length mutton chops while a second straightened out his clothing. The other two reached up toward Dax to embrace the former professor.

Dax dropped to a knee and gave the mid-stomach-tall man a hug. Bleeze patted his back a few times before pulling away. His silvery irises narrowed with mechanical movements as he looked the team over.

“It’s good to see you too, Bleeze,” Dax called out.

Bleeze’s smile quickly faded.

“What in the blue blazes happened ta you?”

“It’s a long story,” Kane replied.

“I’ve got some of that good Oreon booze that’ll make you go blind, and lose all track of time, have a seat,” Bleeze ordered.

9

FENCE

Everyone took a seat in front of a large, ornately carved wooden desk. Bleeze pulled out several small glasses before filling them all the way up with a dark brown liquid. He placed one in front of each of the team before stopping at Mark and looking at Dax and Kane.

“He good yet?” Bleeze asked. “The man-child, I mean.”

“I’m good,” Mark replied, reaching for the cup. “I’ve grown hair in all the right places.”

“No he hasn’t,” Kane and Dax said in unison. The two shared a look that said “good one.”

Bleeze withdrew the cup. Mark fell back in his chair, crossed his arms and sighed in disappointment. The bar owner moved back around his desk and sat across from them. Dax shifted in his seat; a spring poked him in the back from a fresh bullet hole. He picked up the glass and took a sip. It burned like liquid fire as he swallowed it before leaving a sweet and smoky aftertaste.

“Last thing I know, I’m sending you on some sweet salvage, expecting top notch tech, like you always get me, and then it’s radio silence for a cycle,” Bleeze said, taking the whole glass in a single shot. “When you do show up, you three have got some pretty impressive augmentations with Dalia over here’s musculature nearly twice as dense. Must’ve cost a lot, I’m a little hurt you didn’t bring it back to me.”

“We didn’t get the salvage,” Kane said, leaving the drink on the table.

Bleeze’s smile faded. He looked at Kane and played with his facial hair. His eyes narrowed. One of his arms slid under his desk.

“I don’t like being lied to,” Bleeze said softly, tapping his temples with two of his arms. “There’s a reason I upgraded these peepers. They allow me to see through all manner of things, including lies.”

Dax noticed the muscles in Dalia’s shoulder twitch as the rest of her arm tightened. He took another sip, readjusted from the spring in his back and lounged in the chair.

“He’s not lying, Bleeze. We can explain everything, and while it’s not the salvage you wanted, I think you’ll like what we came back with even more,” Dax said, looking at Mark. “Give it to him.”

“Come on,” Mark whimpered. “I haven’t had a chance to reverse-engineer it yet!”

“Just give it to him,” Kane countered.

With a reluctant huff, Mark pulled the Valtukta translator from his pocket. He tossed it on the table. Bleeze kept his eyes on Kane and Dax, a wry smile spreading across his gray lips.

“Like something that small’s going to make up for…”

Bleeze trailed off as Dalia held the translator in front of him. His eyes widened and pupils narrowed. A sharp inhale seeped past his lips. All four of his hands slapped the top of his desk before he reached out and grabbed it from Dalia’s hand.

“This is Valtukta tech. How did you get this?” he asked, excitement causing his voice to tremble.

“Wasn’t that hard,” Dax replied.

The other four people in the room scoffed.

“Not that hard?! These self-destruct when a soldier dies, and anyone who’s tried to get on their ships has never been seen again. You can’t just take tech from the Valtakuntera and walk away.”

“We didn’t just walk away.” Kane chuckled.

Dax took another sip before setting the glass down.

“They showed up at the salvage site and captured us. Ever since then, they’ve been working on the three of us and tossed Dalia into a radioactive part of the ship,” Dax said, looking at her. “Fortunately, it seems ionizing radiation agrees with her.”

She smiled and gave him a thumbs-up.

“During our little stay, they decided to mess with our genetics,” Kane added before looking at Dax. “They unlocked our full human potential, and then some.”

“They implanted us with those. That one got fried by the radiation when we saved Dalia, but the components are still intact,” Mark added. “That way we could understand each other when they ran their experiments.”

Mark shuddered at the comment.

“And it’s rather easy to escape a ship when you’re wearing their armor and have someone who speaks the language,” Dax replied in the Valtukta tongue.

Bleeze looked at Dax, disbelief on his face. He fell back in his seat, shaking his head as he tried to process the information.

“Your species is one of the most impressive I’ve ever met.” He chuckled. “It’s a good thing your solar system is quarantined; otherwise, I think you’d be the dominant race in the galaxy and not those knife-eared mongrels.”

“It was a one-time thing,” Kane continued. “It was clear they’d never had anyone escape. Aside from alarms and soldiers, there were no internal systems to stop us. No barriers, automated turrets, thermals. Judging from how far we got, I don’t even think there were cameras in our holding cells.”

“Why would there be?” Bleeze scoffed. “Their empire has been around for a thousand years. No one’s ever escaped. Apparently, all you need is a silver tongue.”

“And some extreme brutality,” Mark replied.

Kane and Mark both turned their attention to Dax. He felt his face warm; he couldn’t tell if it was from the drink or panic, not wanting the story of his interrogation to spread. He quickly took another sip and set the glass down.

“Will that make us square for the salvage?” Dax asked.

“I never say this, but it’ll make up for it and then some.” Bleeze chuckled as he took the piece from Dalia. “Although I don’t trust my techies with something this sensitive. Mind if I borrow yours?”

Mark’s face lit up as he sat forward in his seat.

“Only if he gets to produce some for our crew. I can’t learn every language in the galaxy, and I hate these things,” Dax said, pointing to the translator gripping his head.

“You have yourself a deal.”

Bleeze slapped the top of his desk, stood up on his chair, leaned forward and offered a hand to Dax, Dalia and Kane.

“What about Sleek?” Dalia asked.

“You know him best,” Dax said, motioning toward Bleeze. “I’ll let you take point on that one.”

Bleeze’s eyes narrowed. His hands dropped as he settled back into his chair.

“Sleek?” the fence asked.

“He and sixty-two of his kind worked with me on the Valtukta ship. They were science experiments on that ship and don’t have a home world to go back to,” Dalia said. “With your considerable contacts and resources, I was hoping you could find them a home where they could be free.”

“Nothing’s ever free, my sweet Dal’no,” Bleeze replied, stroking the hairless portion of his chin with one hand. “I’d have to meet them, but there are a few worlds that come to mind.”

“And we need repairs,” Kane added, placing the bolt on his desk.

“You’re still flying that bucket of bolts?!” Bleeze laughed, pointing at the rusted metal. “No wonder you need my help. Your ship’ll break apart around them. Losing cargo’s one thing, but people?”

Bleeze picked up the piece of metal and inspected it.

“How’d your ship manage to stay in one piece while you were incarcerated?”

“I’m a big fan of MacGyver,” Kane replied.

“And I hardwired the core to detonate if anyone tried to mess with it,” Mark replied.

“What’s a MacGyver?” Bleeze asked.

“He’s a human who can fix anything with everyday objects,” Dax replied. “In one episode, he used bubblegum and glue to defuse a bomb or at least something close to it. You get the point.”

“The more I learn about your people, the more I want to visit your world,” Bleeze said, waving the bolt around.

Dax clenched his toes together so tightly, it hurt. The pain stopped him from cracking a smile at the comment. He leaned forward, getting close to Bleeze’s desk without touching it.

“Do we have a deal?” Dax asked.

“Not entirely. This is impressive.” Bleeze tapped the bolt against the translator. “But forgive your dropped ball, cover translators for your crew, I’m assuming repair your ship AND find a home for Valtukta experiments? That’s not an entirely fair trade.”

“Okay, then,” Kane cut in. “What do you want?”

Bleeze leaned over. The grind of a drawer opening sounded before he pulled out four hockey puck-sized metal disks. He spread them out evenly in front of him before turning them on.

Holographic images and dossiers flickered to life above them. Bleeze sat back in his seat and motioned toward them. Dax inspected the jobs. They were written in a language he didn’t know.

“I’m not sure what we’re supposed to be looking at here,” Dax commented. “You trying to get in touch with lost family members? Reunion time? Ahhh, Bleeze, you didn’t strike me as the sentimental type.”

“Well, these are three of the most urgent jobs I have.” Bleeze touched the far left puck. “This one’s a bounty. Everyone’s after this little green creature, codenamed ‘Child.’ Someone in silver is keeping the package just out of reach. The client is paying enough to buy you a new ship.”

“We don’t do bounties,” Dax countered.

“I’ll get you there one day,” Bleeze mused.

He shut off the puck and put it back in his desk.

“Okay, this one is a defense job,” Bleeze continued, touching the next puck. “It pays enough to cover what you’re asking. Pirates have been attacking the supply lines of a friend of mine. They want an armed escort to protect their ships.”

“You have seen our ship, right?” Dax asked.

“It’s called the Junkyard for a reason,” Dalia added.

“I agree. We have to dogfight in that thing and it’s going to fall apart around us,” Kane added.

“Fair enough. I wouldn’t want to lose my best contractors as soon as I get them back.”

Bleeze put the puck away before grabbing the last two and sliding them in front of Dax.

“These two are important due to time sensitivity. They don’t pay much, so you’ll have to do them both to cover costs,” Bleeze explained.

Dax touched the cold metal, inspecting them closely.

“And they are?” he asked.

“Smuggle,” Bleeze said, motioning to one, then the other. “And investigate.”

“We need more information than that,” Kane said.

“There’s a blockade around a little backwater planet. I won’t get into the politics of the situation, but the people on the ground are in need of medicine. This run will tide them over until negotiations come to an end.”

Dax looked at his team. Mark kept his eyes locked on the translator as Dalia and Kane nodded.

“I can get behind medicine,” Dalia said.

“Same here,” Kane added.

“Good, because you were going to have to take it anyway,” Bleeze mused.

He grabbed the last puck and slid it forward. He motioned to it.

“A new outpost established by my guild said that something fell to their planet’s surface a few weeks ago. The guild representative sent out scouts to check it out. None of them have come back.”

Bleeze touched an image. A picture of a forest appeared on one side. The same image flickered to life on the right. The right image had what looked like a desert forming in the center of the trees. Dax’s stomach knotted as he slid to the edge of his seat.

“How big is that desert patch?” Dax asked.

“Twenty miles, and growing by the day,” Bleeze replied. “While the scouts were never found, they were able to get this recording back.”

Bleeze tapped another part of the hologram. A video overtook the projection.

“What is that?” one man screamed.

“I don’t know,” another replied.

Gunfire rang out. A blur streaked across the screen, ripping one man apart. Dax leaned forward. He reached out and rewound the video. As the blur appeared again, he paused it. The knot in Dax’s stomach warped into a pit at the chitinous, razor-footed blur in front of them.

10

CARGO

Over the next few days, Mark dove into the translator. Bleeze provided every piece of technology he could’ve needed. Dax and Kane researched the world that produced the security footage. It was a backwater world with a designation PB112. In Bleeze’s personal notes, it was earmarked for being rich in titanium, gold and palladium.

“Surprised that world’s not strip-mined yet,” Kane muttered, inspecting the information.

“Bleeze knows about it,” Dax replied, closing the hologram. “The only reason it isn’t is because it’s more useful to him for it to remain unknown.”

“What could he be doing there?” Kane asked as he sat back in his seat.

“Do you have any idea how hard it’s becoming to keep off the Valtakuntera radar?” Bleeze said, walking into the room.

“I think my translator isn’t working. Valtakuntera?” Kane asked.

“Valtukta and Valtakuntera is like Rome and Roman Empire,” Dax explained. “There’s nothing wrong with your translator.”

He leaned back and looked at Bleeze, resting his elbows on the chair.

“I imagine with so much technology, it’s next to impossible.” Dax returned to Bleeze’s comment.

“Very much so. The only chance of secrecy is to operate on a world they either know nothing about, or, like this Pangeac planet, have so little usable resources, it’s more fiscally responsible to just leave it than try to mine it,” Bleeze replied. “Having a galaxy-spanning empire really does eat up one’s resources.”

“Okay, but what’s so special about that planet?” Kane asked. “Why not send in bounty hunters or mercenaries to handle the threat?”

“Bounty hunters and mercenaries draw too much attention. You four are a very capable crew, and if anyone can investigate that and make it back alive, it’ll be you.”

Dax’s eyes narrowed as Bleeze dodged the question. A slightly sour scent rose from the four-armed man that wasn’t there before. He’d hardly noticed it before now.

“Bleeze, it’s us,” Dax said, glancing back at the closed door. “You can trust us. What is it that you’re doing there?”

Bleeze fidgeted in his seat. His eyes darted around the room, double-checking for hidden or imaginary enemies. He cleared his throat before leaning forward, rubbing his fingers through his facial hair and whispering.

“There’s a very rare species on that world. They can practically talk to technology like we’re speaking now. They’re developing something, I don’t know what, but it’s rumored to be potent enough to take down the Valtakuntera. If whatever that thing is spreads and destroys that planet, we lose that species and their work. I need you to just go out there, investigate, see what’s really going on and give them the information they need to make a wise decision.”

“I didn’t peg you or the guild as ones who got into galactic politics,” Dax mused. “Why now?”

“We’re not getting into the politics,” Bleeze scoffed. “Do you have any idea how much the enemies of the Valtukta will pay for a device like that? It’d make us upper members so rich, we could retire and disappear completely.”

“That makes this job seem a lot bigger than even the bounty job,” Dax mused.

“You’ve already taken the jobs; you can’t renegotiate your fees,” Bleeze’s face turned stern. “Don’t turn Ramil on me.”

“First, I have no idea what that means. Second, I’m well aware of the guild rules. Trust me, I’ve pored over that book so much, I could taste the ink through my fingers,” Dax countered. “But there’s nothing that says a percentage of a sale can’t be negotiated afterward. Since we’re taking all the risk and inviting the race who ran experiments down on our heads, I would say ten percent commission would work.”

Dax watched Bleeze closely. The muscles in his neck tightened before he rubbed his horseshoe of a hairline.

“But, since we’re such good friends, I don’t want to leave you in the lurch. We’ll settle for five percent after sale, and if evacuation is needed, we’ll provide it, no additional cost,” Dax added.

Bleeze’s neck relaxed. He slapped his hands on the table before standing in his chair and offering a hand.

“You’ve got yourself a deal!”

Dax took his hand and gave it a firm shake.

“Always a pleasure doing business with you.”

“Is it? Is it really?”

“Well, it feels like the polite thing to say.”

“Fair enough.”

Mark walked into the office without the ear translator attached to his head. The lab Bleeze provided off the edge of his room sealed shut behind the teen. He inspected a device in his hands before looking up at them, his patchy beard frazzled in every direction from running his fingers through it.

“Dax, do some of that nerd stuff you do,” Mark ordered.

“Nerd stuff?” Dax asked.

“Yeah, you know, the whole language thing,” Mark replied.

“Tech stuff is infinitely nerdier than linguistics, especially when it was my linguistic acumen that got us out of that space elf scrap,” Dax countered in the Dal’no language.

Mark threw his hands up and let out a celebratory squeal.

“It works! I can understand you. That was a little mean, but I can understand you. Bleeze, say something to me.”

“Your facial hair is a disgrace and humiliation to your family line,” Bleeze replied. “It makes me ill to gaze upon it.”

Kane stifled a chuckle.

“Now you’re starting to sound like them,” Mark countered, motioning toward Dax and Kane.

“Anca ouya understanda ema owna?” Dax asked.

Mark’s brow furrowed. Dax glanced at Bleeze to see confusion settle over the fence’s face.

“What language is that?” Mark asked.

“Ia anca,” Kane chimed in. “Atwha area ouya inkingtha?”

“Encriptiona,” Dax replied. “How’d you pull it off?”

“The technology has a simplicity to it that’s only rivaled by Windows ’98,” Mark replied.

He turned and pointed at the small disk-shaped bulge behind his ear.

“I was able to update the design as well. While it looks the same, once fully integrated, it’ll bond with the osteoblasts in your bones and actually become part of your skeletal structure,” Mark continued. “It’ll be flush against your skin as well, no bulge.”

“If the technology is so simple, how easy is it to get into?” Kane asked.

“I have an encryption on it that’s sort of like the spell Dr. Strange has on the Eye of Agamotto,” Mark replied.

“Magic?” Kane scoffed.

“No, he means simple, yet quite unbreakable,” Dax replied.

Mark walked over to Bleeze’s desk and set the translator down. He motioned toward the device.

“Specially made for you. You should know you don’t have to embed it under your skin. I just figured with our active lifestyle, it’s better to put it someplace it won’t just fall off,” Mark said.

Dax watched closely as Bleeze’s eyes narrowed, inspecting the device. He slowly picked it up and offered it to the former professor.

“You try it first,” Bleeze said cautiously.

“Bleeze, come on, we’re not going to screw you over. Ironically, you’re the only person in this galaxy we trust,” Dax said.

“That’s a mistake on your end.” Bleeze chuckled. “Because I don’t trust anyone who has fewer arms than me.”

“You’d fall in love with the Underbeasts, then,” Mark mused.

“Underbeasts?” Bleeze asked.

“Bugs,” Dax said, taking the translator. “Big bugs, the size of a single-person ship. They have between six to hundreds of legs/arms, and they’ll devour the biomass of a planet in very short order.”

Dax pulled the translator off his head. The legs scraped against his skin, causing him to wince. He placed Mark’s translator behind his ear. A strange, itchy sensation radiated from the center of the device.

“What’s that?” Dax asked, scratching behind his ear.

“It’s the connection being made,” Mark replied. “It’ll stop in a couple of seconds.”

Dax continued to scratch behind his ear. After just shy of a minute, the itching sensation dulled before vanishing.

“Okay, Bleeze, say something,” Dax said.

“Your facial hair would make your family line proud,” Bleeze said. “The waves of your hair are reminiscent of the oceans of Vandor on a Summer morning.”

“Not cool,” Mark complained.

“He’s not wrong,” Kane replied. “Now, will you shave your face when we get underway? A year’s worth of growth for you is a week for us.”

“Are you going to shave?” Mark asked.

Dax and Kane looked at each other. Without a word, they held an entire conversation. Clearing his throat, Dax nodded as both men turned back to Mark.

“You shave, then we’ll shave,” Dax said.

“Okay, but I don’t want any of this ‘trim those things short.’ I want to be able to see skin,” Mark countered.

“You have our word,” Kane replied.

Bleeze slid off his chair. He walked around his desk, walked behind Dax and yanked the translator off. Dax winced as a sharp, prickly pain shot through his skin. It quickly faded as he rubbed the spot.

“Ow!” Dax complained.

“It’s better that way,” Mark said with a grimace. “Think of the translator like a band aid. The faster you get it off, the better.”

Bleeze waved for them to follow him as he spoke in a slur of clicks and purrs. Dax picked up his original translator and put it on. Kane stood up and nodded toward the door.

“Come on. He said the supplies are ready to be loaded,” Kane said.

Dax stood up. Kane followed Bleeze out of his office door.

“What does he sound like without the translator?” Mark asked.

He pulled another translator out of his pocket and handed it to Dax. The former professor tossed Bleeze’s device back in the bucket before putting Mark’s on. He itched at it while walking toward the door.

“Kind of like if Poggle the Lesser and a cat had a baby,” Dax replied.

“Interesting,” Mark said with a shrug.

Dax looked up at Whirset while walking past him. He gave the Pachymis a pat on the arm.

“It was good seeing you again, Whirset. Hopefully, it’s not another year before we do this again.”

“I agree. I miss seeing your ship almost crash on approach every time,” Whirset said in a way that made it impossible to tell if he was joking or not. “We have a running bet. I lose the Deadpool every time.”

“Thanks, Whirset, your confidence in us is admirable,” Mark teased. “Wait, you’re joking right? He’s joking, right?”

Walking back through the bar, everyone kept their heads down and eyes on their drinks. The music no longer stopped when they walked in after Bleeze put two rounds in the chest of a patron who made an offhanded comment two days prior. Dax looked at the blue bloodstain still on the floor before exiting the bar.

Reaching the hangar, Dax watched Sleek bowing slightly to Dalia. She reciprocated before embracing the scrawny creature. Stepping away, he caught Dax’s eye before scampering over to him.

“Savior Hairless Pink Ape,” Sleek said.

Dax’s face went flat as he looked at Dalia. She flashed him a smile before turning toward Kane and Bleeze. He aimed his attention back toward Sleek.

“I’m assuming Dalia taught you that?” Dax asked.

“Dalia did. Dalia say to call you only that.” Sleek nodded so vigorously, he was liable to give himself whiplash. “Say much honor to you and your manhood.”

“Does that mean we get to call him a kobold?” Mark whispered.

“No,” Dax scolded. “Was Bleeze able to find a world for you?”

“Bleeze find Sleek and tribe world. World has few predators. Sleek and tribe safe on world,” Sleek said, wide-eyed and eager to please. “Your manhood is most welcome to come and visit Sleek.”

“Good, and let’s stop talking about my manhood. What about supplies until you can get your feet on the ground?” Dax asked.

“Bleeze give tribe one-year supply and data banks on how to survive on new home world.” Sleek sounded excited. “Besides, Sleek not need much, just swallow own spit when thirsty.”

“Good, I think.” Dax offered Sleek his hand. “It was an honor to meet you, and I hope we will see each other again soon.”

Sleek looked from Dax’s hand then back, confusion strewn across his insectoid features.

“What this?” Sleek asked, mortified. “Sleek married, not allowed to lie with Hairless Pink Ape and Manhood.”

“What!? No, no, you shake it. It’s a way to say hello or goodbye between friends,” Dax said, turning toward Mark. “Like this.”

“What are you doing?” Mark asked. “I don’t want to marry you.”

“Shake my hand,” Dax whispered through gritted teeth.

“I’m not shaking your hand,” Mark hissed, playing along. “I’m saving myself for the right Hairless Pink Ape to come along.”

Dax leaned forward, grabbed the teen’s hand and gave it a firm shake. Mark pulled his hand free, wiped it on his jumpsuit and grimaced.

“Why?” Mark complained. “Now I’m used goods.”

“Why are you so resistant?” Dax asked before turning back to Sleek. “That is a handshake.”

Sleek offered his clawed hand out. Dax took it. Both men shook. Sleek withdrew his hand. His claw slid across Dax’s palm, sending a wave of cold pain through his hand. The former professor pushed the pain out of his mind. Sleek bowed to him, he reciprocated.

“Sleek hope to see Savior Hairless Pink Ape soon too,” Sleek said reverently. “If ever dying of thirst will spit in his mouth to provide remedy for need of water.”

With that, the hunched alien walked over to a ship holding the rest of his tribe. After he climbed in, the door shut. With a roar of engines, the ship lifted out of its spot and flew through the waterfall. Dax looked at the cut on his hand. It’d already started to heal.

“And that’s why I don’t want to shake hands,” Mark said, pointing at the gash.

“If my nails were sharp enough to do this, I wouldn’t need a knife.” Dax chuckled.

He scratched at the healing wound while starting toward the ship. Two lizard women set down a crate on top of a pile of four others. Dax approached the crates, grabbed the lid and lifted. Inside sat a rack of magnetic slug throwers.

“Are you kidding me?” Dax scoffed. “You told us it was medicine. You have us smuggling weapons.”

Bleeze let out a grunt. He walked over, reached into the crate, grabbed the bottom, and pulled. Lifting a false bottom revealed a thick layer of medicinal supplies.

“If you get busted smuggling guns, you get a slap on the wrist. You could be selling them to anyone,” Bleeze replied. “Likely to one faction fighting another. Blockades don’t care about that. Medicine, it’ll keep the natives healthy and resilient. That will get you interrogated at the least.”

“Can we keep the guns?” Kane asked. “We’re a little short on weapons.”

“I don’t care. You’d need to run it by the people you’re bringing it to,” Bleeze countered. “Now load these up and get out of here. I’m sick of looking at you.”

Kane and Dalia helped the lizard women load the crates onto the ship. Dax approached the second to last one and grabbed it before looking at Mark.

“I don’t lift heavy things,” Mark countered.

“You sound like my sister. Get over here and give me a hand,” Dax ordered.

“They’re not heavy,” Dalia shouted back.

“Easy for you to say. You’re a she-hulk,” Mark replied.

“They’re not heavy,” Kane chimed in. “And that’s coming from an old man.”

With a reluctant sigh, Mark marched over to the crate and helped Dax pick it up. They put it into the ship before sliding it further in. Mark climbed inside. Dax turned back to Bleeze.

“We’ll be back for our next job once we’re done.”

Bleeze glanced around to make sure no one was in earshot.

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on, on PB112, but I know the woman posted there. She doesn’t ask for help, ever. When she was pinned down and lost her arm, she said she’d rather die than call in backup, and she called in backup.”

“Don’t worry, we’ve dealt with bugs before and we were significantly less well-armed,” Dax replied. “We’ll keep you posted as soon as we have any updates.”

“Thank you,” Bleeze said before leaning toward the ship’s door. “And I want my translators back. Those things are expensive!”

“I left you a pile of upgraded ones in that lab of yours,” Mark shouted. “Why would you want these hunks of junk?”

“Because I don’t give anything away for free,” Bleeze countered. “It goes against my religion.”

“Funny, that’s what my mom used to say,” Mark replied. “Christmas was always rough.”

The lizard women slid out of the ship’s door, Dalia, Kane and Mark’s translators in hand. Dax grabbed the last crate. He picked it up with surprising ease before setting it in the ship, sliding it onto the deck and hopping in himself.

11

RECLAIM

Dax winced at the sharp, cold pain behind his ear. Kane’s hot breath ran across his neck while he worked. The ship rattled around them. Dax winced while Kane let out a frustrated snarl.

“Keep her steady. I don’t want to cut his ear off,” Kane barked.

“Maybe if you’d wait until we were in space, this wouldn’t be an issue,” Mark replied.

Their starship punched through a cloud, the sky above turning blacker by the second.

“I agree with Mark on this one, possibly for the first time ever,” Dax said, holding still. “I’d rather you not pull an Evander Holyfield.”

“Who’s that?” Kane asked.

Dax winced once more. A cold, stinging sensation overtook the spot Kane worked on. The soldier pressed his hand against the back of Dax’s skull.

“He lost part of his ear in a boxing match,” Mark called back.

“How do you lose part of your ear in a boxing match?” Kane asked.

“You get it bitten off,” Dax replied. “You never heard about that? It’s one of the most famous events in boxing history. You’re older than I thought!”

Kane gave Dax a firm smack to the back of the head at his jest. The former professor chuckled. The area behind his ear started to itch as it healed. Kane removed his hand and stepped away before turning around and pulling his ear forward.

“I’m feeling younger than I have in years,” Kane countered, holding up his translator. “Your turn.”

“Mark, how long until we’re out of atmo?” Dax asked.

The rattling of loose paneling echoed through the ship for several more seconds before everything fell silent except for the soft hum of the engines. The pull of artificial gravity overtook Dax, giving him a brief wave of vertigo. It passed seconds later.

“We are free and clear,” Mark replied.

He fidgeted with the navigation before locking the flight path in place.

“Leap route calculated. We’ll need to fly in normal space for a few hours before we have the right vector and we can hop into the system behind their gas giant so we can hide our signature,” Mark said.

The teen unbuckled himself and stood up. Dax watched as Mark turned back to the seat, confusion strewn across his face. Mark grabbed the chair and pushed against it. It didn’t move. He turned back to Dax.

“Did anything fall free?” Mark asked.

“I… I don’t think so,” Dax replied, glancing around the main deck.

“We get it, Bleeze’s guys did a good job, now will you put that thing in my head?” Kane asked impatiently.

“I’m not going to cut into you with the same knife you used to cut into me,” Dax countered. “We’re not savages.”

“Even if we weren’t enhanced, do you really think you could cross-contaminate me?” Kane scoffed. “I’ve had worse things enter my body.”

“You shouldn’t say it like that, Mr. Tuff Guy Marine. Besides I’m not going to risk anything until we know for sure what evil elf Doc Brown did to us,” Dax argued.

“Why not use your knife?” Mark asked.

“Do you really think those sealed, below deck pods really remained hidden during an inspection?” Dax scoffed.

“I don’t know, but I know they didn’t check where our gear is really hidden,” Mark countered, waving for them to follow.

“Dalia, Mark’s getting us our gear,” Dax shouted.

“I checked the pods. They were empty. The pointies took them,” she shouted back from her quarters.

“No, they didn’t,” Mark countered. “Just follow the soothing sound of my voice.”

Kane followed Mark back toward the power core. Dax stopped and waited for Dalia at the hallway’s mouth. She lumbered up to him and flashed her tusks. Her approval brought a hint of joy to Dax, one he hadn’t felt in a long time, or expected to feel again. He nodded after the other two.

“They’re this way.”

“There’s no other way for them to go, Battle Bonded,” Dalia replied.

“You know you can call me Dax.”

“I know,” she said with a sweet smile. “But I enjoy it.”

“Whatever floats your boat,” Dax said with a shrug.

“Boat?” Dalia asked, pulling her braids from in front of her and pushing them behind her shoulders.

“It’s like a starship, but it goes on the water.”

“There are ships for water?” Dalia asked.

Dax nodded; he started down the hallway with Dalia close behind.

“There are. The ones that go on top are called boats if they’re small, ships if they’re large, and the ones that go under water are submarines,” Dax explained. “I’ve never been on one of those, though.”

“What’s it like?” Dalia asked, her voice almost trembling in excitement.

“Jarring at first, but it almost makes you feel like you’re flying,” Dax replied.

“I would very much like to ride on a boat!”

“It’s a fairly simple design, I’m sure we’ll come across one somewhere on one of our jobs.”

Dax approached a panel in the wall that was slid up, opening a ladder to the lower deck. Stepping in, he climbed down the rickety steel. He looked up nervously as Dalia climbed on as well, her added weight causing the bolts to groan. He held his tongue, not wanting to be rude, while saying a silent prayer that the ladder held together.

To his relief, it didn’t break free. He stepped onto the lower deck and turned to see Kane and Mark waiting for him. Dalia made it to the bottom as well. She stood hunched, the back of her head and neck touching the roof.

“What is the purpose of this?” Dax asked.

“It’s storage, or I can vent the radiation from the power core down here and then to space, so it doesn’t flood the main deck,” Mark replied. “And then there’s that.”

He pointed at an airlock. Dax approached the rusted red paint that warned not to open before going through airlock procedures. He touched the metal, trying to remember if there was a door on that part of the ship’s outside.

“This wasn’t on the original ship,” Kane said.

“No, it was something I had added,” Mark replied.

He walked next to Dax and grabbed the handle. Before Dax could react, he unlocked the door and pulled. Panic seized Dax, Kane and Dalia at once. Everyone rushed at him, shouting for him to stop. When the side of the ship didn’t rip open, an awkward silence fell on the group. Dax peered into the airlock to see the aged inner hull of the ship. He reached in and touched it. The steel was ice cold. It seemed like he could almost feel space on the other side.

“What is this?” Dax asked.

He turned back to Mark to see a cheesy grin spread across his face.

“It’s a false airlock.”

Mark pushed his way in, elbowing Dax out of the way. He ran his fingers over the creases in the metal. Dax watched closely as his fingers touched several rivets. Making a fist, the teen tapped rhythmically on the metal.

“Is that shave and a haircut?” Dax asked.

“We need one,” Kane cut in.

With a click, the wall slid slightly toward Mark, who leaned down and placed his fingers in the gap under the door and pulled. Chills ran up Dax’s spine. He shuddered at the fingernails-on-chalkboard sound that screamed from the door.

“Sorry! Sorry! I couldn’t find any WD-40 to put on the hinges,” Mark said. “I’m always missing that and the sockets for my wrench.”

“If you did this far from Earth, I’d be very curious to know where you got it,” Kane replied.

Mark continued to pull the wall away, revealing their suits of armor and Dalia’s protective gear. Her axe and Kane’s spear leaned against one corner while the magnetic guns sat on chargers and Dax’s knife was at home in its sheath around his suit’s waist. Overhead were tubes that led to the deck above.

“I had this little place made in case we ever got boarded. I activated the trap doors the second our guests docked with us,” Mark said, taking a step back.

A swell of pride overtook Dax. He looked at the teen and placed a hand on his shoulder before giving him a squeeze.

“I couldn’t be prouder of you if you were my own son,” Dax said.

“Well done. Who said youth is wasted on the young,” Kane exclaimed.

“Is that my Skull Splitter?” Dalia asked.

“Your first one’s buried. I’d call this Skull Splitter 2.0,” Mark replied, motioning to the pile. “Dig in.”

12

CLEAN UP

“Mark, are there any gravitational eddies visible on the sensors?” Dax shouted from the bathroom.

“We’re in leap. Gravitational eddies aren’t an issue. Why?” Mark called out from his room.

“I want to make sure I don’t murder myself is all.”

Dax tilted his head back while looking at himself in the polished metal. Taking the blade Dalia gave him, he slowly dragged it across his neck, slicing through the overgrown tangle of hair that’d monopolized most of his features.

He held the hair, throwing it into the toilet as it fell free. Once he cleaned up his neck, he shaved just his mustache, keeping the rest of his beard. He made faces at himself in the mirror. Memories flashed through his mind of all the times he’d let his beard grow out and he’d shaved it in wacky ways. Standing up straight, he grabbed the chest of his jumpsuit as if holding the collar of a suit jacket.

“Four score and seven years ago,” he said, aging his voice to a playful rasp. “Who wants to go to the theater?”

Sticking his tongue out at himself, he shaved his chin, leaving the mutton chops. Looking at himself as a whole once more, he raised an eyebrow. Running some water over his hands, he ran them through his freshly cut hair and spiked out the sides so they stuck straight out.

“What you lookin’ at, bub?” he snarled at himself, putting his knife between his fingers and raising his fist at his own reflection. “I’m the best at what I do, and what I do ain’t pretty!”

He slashed at the air a few times before throwing his head back.

“Jean, no… JEEAAAANNNN!!!!”

Grabbing his knife by the handle, he quickly finished shaving his face. He ran his fingers over his skin. It was as smooth as the first time he’d done it. He sheathed his knife, splashed water on his face and spent what felt like hours trying to clean up every stray hair that fell free.

Once collected, he threw them all in the toilet and flushed them. Dusting off his hands, he turned around to see Dalia and Kane standing in the doorway. Kane’s mustache was back to covering his upper lip. The nape of Dax’s neck heated up while looking at his crew mates.

“How much of that did you hear?” Dax asked.

“I think your Lincoln was a little distasteful,” Kane teased.

“Do you want to tell me who this Jean is?” Dalia asked, crossing her arms. “If she was not someone special to you, I will end her.”

“What would’ve been distasteful is if I would’ve done this,” Dax replied.

He put a finger gun to his head and made a bang sound while throwing his other hand out in front of him.

“That would’ve been distasteful. And Jean is a fictional character that doesn’t exist,” Dax replied.

“Yes, she does,” Mark shouted, wanting to stir up trouble.

“Dalia, did I tell you Mark wanted to spar you?” Dax asked.

“Never mind, Jean Grey is completely fictional,” Mark recanted.

Dax made his way toward the door. Kane grabbed his chin and shook his head.

“Look at the baby face,” he teased. “Got some smooth skin there. Nice to see you cleaned up.”

“And I’m liking your Sam Elliot,” Dax said.

He reached up and wiggled some of Kane’s whiskers.

“Hair’s a little long, though,” Kane countered, toying with the long hair at the nape of Dax’s neck.

“You shaved your hair so short, any shorter and Kevin Hart would’ve been able to make jokes about it,” Dax countered, rubbing the top of his prickly short hair.

“I don’t know,” Dalia said.

She rubbed her index finger across Dax’s cheek, sending chills down his spine.

“I kind of like the short growth you had when we left Dal’no’nuur.”

“Five o’clock shadow, lady. Don’t see many of them anymore,” Kane said.

“You hairy mongrels finish your grooming?” Mark asked.

Dax raised an eyebrow, looking at Kane, then Dalia. The Dal’no was the first to move, pushing Dax and Kane out of her way. The former professor watched as she marched toward Mark’s room.

“On a scale of one to ten, how much trouble do you think he’s in?” Dax asked.

“Well, he called her sweet little Battle Bonded mongrel, so I’m guessing a twelve-point butt-kicking,” Kane replied.

The creak of Mark’s door opening fully filled the ship.

“Hey, wait, what are you doing?” Mark whimpered. “No, no. Back away.”

“Battle Bonded, knife,” Dalia shouted.

“I think she’s as fed up at looking at his prepubescent beard as we are,” Dax mused, drawing his knife.

“If she shaves him, at least we’ll get a good gauge on how strong our healing factors are,” Kane replied.

Dax marched toward Mark’s room. He’d cannibalized some non-essential screens to make a crude setup similar to when they were orbiting Earth. The teen hung off the ground, Dalia holding him in a full nelson. Mark thrashed as Dax approached him.

“You said you’d shave. You haven’t, so we’ll shave you,” Dax called out.

“I’d stop kicking if I were you, son,” Kane added. “He may have a steady hand, but I don’t think it counts for much if you’re kicking and screaming.”

“Pink Hairless Ape stay hairless,” Dalia added.

“Oh, what do you know of hairy, space orc? The only body hair your people seem to grow is on your head,” Mark countered.

A stillness filled the air. Mark fell silent. Dax could tell from the look on his face, the teen knew he’d messed up. Dalia flashed her tusks as Dax and Kane.

“Leave the knife. I will shear this sheep,” she said before looking at Dax. “Did I use that right?”

Excitement fluttered in Dax at her proper use of a turn-of-phrase.

“Not only did you use it right, but I’m also pretty sure you called him dumb in the process. That’s a twofer, great job.”

Dalia flashed him a wide, pearly white smile.

“Thank you,” she exclaimed with pride.

“She didn’t call me dumb,” Mark argued.

“Would you classify a sheep as an intelligent animal?” Kane asked. “If you were smart, you would’ve shaved already.”

Dax sheathed the knife, untied the leather band and set it on the shoddily constructed desk as he and Kane slowly backed out of the room.

“Shut the door,” Kane said, tapping his shoulder.

Dax grabbed the door handle and pulled it shut with a squeak. Both men looked at each other and winced at the fumbling sounds and shouts that rose from Mark’s room. They stood with their hands on the door, not daring to move it as Mark’s defiant shouts devolved into whimpers.

After several minutes, the telltale thuds of Dalia walking echoed from the room. Dax felt a pull on the door. He let go. The Dal’no opened the door, knife in hand and an amused smile on her face. She brushed some of Mark’s hair from her arm before handing the knife to Dax.

“It’s not as uniform as I wanted, but he kept wiggling and I didn’t want to stab him in the eye by accident,” Dalia said. “Although I do think I did a good job for the situation.”

Dax and Kane stepped aside. Dalia walked through, positioning herself behind them. The former professor looked from her to the half-open door where Mark’s whimpers drifted like a sad chorus. He sheathed the knife before pushing on the door.

It squealed, revealing Mark, leaning up on his elbows, panting. Small nicks on his mostly shaved face quickly healed. Globs of hair piled up on the ground around him. What was left on his head was nearly to the scalp or a few inches long, sticking straight in every direction. Dax bit his cheek; the pain helped him keep his composure as he lifted a hand.

“First things first, are you physically injured?” Dax asked.

Mark looked up at him, confusion spread across his weary face.

“No, but emotionally and psychologically, I think I am,” he replied.

Kane stifled a laugh. Dax stepped into the room and helped the young man to his feet.

“Did she at least do a good job?” Mark asked, desperate hope in his voice.

“How honest do you want me to be?” Dax asked.

“Completely,” Mark replied.

The former professor looked back at the door. Kane turned to hide his face; his heaving shoulders betrayed him. Dalia stood with a proud smile and her arms crossed.

“Why is Kane laughing?” Mark asked, panic creeping into his voice. “He never laughs.”

“I’m going to shoot it to you straight, Mark.” Dax placed a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “You look exactly like one of the Barbie dolls after my daughter decided to give her a haircut at three years old.”

“You butchered me!” Mark shouted at Dalia, his voice cracking. “I’m a freak.”

“It’s just hair, it’ll grow back,” Dax countered, drawing the knife. “Now, if you’ll hold still, I can finish it without cutting into…”

Dax was interrupted by a slow whirring coming from the flight deck. Dax let out an exaggerated sigh and shook his head.

“It’ll have to wait,” he said.

Mark pushed off Dax and squeezed past Kane before sidestepping Dalia and disappearing up the hall.

“What is that?” Kane asked.

His laughing quickly vanished at the alarm.

“It means we’re two minutes from our drop site and I’ve got to initiate the slowdown,” Mark replied.

Dax sheathed his knife once more. He walked out of Mark’s room and shut the door behind him.

“How did I do?” Dalia asked.

“Objectively, it’s terrible,” Dax replied. “But, given he was kicking and screaming the whole time, it’s not half bad.”

“Not half bad at all,” Kane added.

Dalia flashed her tusks before turning to follow Mark.

“I’ll go hold the seat in place,” she said.

“No need, Bleeze got it fixed,” Kane replied.

“Ah, that’s good!”

The Dal’no continued down the hallway to observe the drop out of leap. Once she disappeared, Kane stepped next to Dax as he rubbed his mustache.

“What do you say the next time we meet that Henuva guy, we let her deal with him?” Kane asked. “I think a haircut like that would be worse than what you did to him.”

Dax shook his head with a shrug.

“I don’t know, what I did was bad, but that haircut is a step above a war crime,” Dax replied, looking at the soldier. “What is above a war crime?”

“Why do you think I would know?” Kane asked.

“I mean… you were sentenced to be an O.G.R.E. for a reason. I just figured with your track record, you could weigh in on that topic.”

“You’re a jerk.” Kane chuckled.

“Eh, if I’m not going to keep your ego in check, who else will?”

“Between the two of us, you think I have the ego?” Kane scoffed.

“Meh, a little,” Dax replied.

“Okay, Mr. Know-it-all, next time I need a bone removed while conscious, I’ll give you a call.”

Kane tapped his chest before walking toward the main deck.

“If you’re jealous, I’d be more than happy to teach you. It’s kind of my whole thing,” Dax said, following Kane. “I would, however, be obliged to grade you on performance.”

Kane made a mocking sound back at Dax as they both traveled to the main deck. Stepping into the pilot chair, Mark grabbed the leap drive, pulling it back. The ship slowed to a massive planet with swirling gasses and colossal red storms across the surface.

“If we get stopped, or when we get on the planet side, let me do the talking,” Dax said.

“What if they talk to us?” Mark asked.

“Bleeze’s translators have English and Dal’no uploaded in them because we uploaded them. The Valtukta had English because they studied us. We’re the only three humans not in the Sol System and I’m fairly sure Dalia’s the only Dal’no not on Dal’no’nuur. The only language we know for sure will be programmed in the universal translators is the Valtukta language.”

“Which none of us speak,” Kane chimed in.

“And Bingo was his name-o,” Dax replied.

13

BLOCKADE

Rounding the gas giant, Mark messed with several sensors. On one of the displays in front of him, an image of a small, green world appeared. Surrounding the world, east to west, north to south, in even intervals were large, spherical ships large enough to cast shadows on the world below.

“Well, that’s some straight-up Trade Federation funny business,” Mark mused.

“Are we cloaked?” Kane asked.

He closed his eyes, shook his head, and cleared his throat when everyone turned to him.

“I heard it,” he belted.

“You do know it’s a miracle that this thing flies at all, right?” Mark asked.

“I said I heard it,” Kane continued.

“Good, because there’s about two thousand other things we need to address before even considering cloaking,” Dax added.

“Two thousand seventy-one,” Dalia corrected.

Dax took a step back, arching a brow at the comment.

“You’re learning the ship?” he asked.

“I’m teaching what I can; never hurts to have an extra set of hands in here,” Mark replied.

The ship let out two quick beeps. Everyone’s attention turned back to the display readouts. Dax’s stomach dropped. Dozens of fighters poured out of the nearest spherical ship and took a defensive formation in front of them.

“Kane, hide the Valtukta tech,” Dax ordered.

“I’ll go get suited up,” Dalia remarked.

Dalia went to her pod and grabbed her armor, putting it on. Kane went to hide the Valtukta technology. The communication array started to beep. Dax ran over to his pod and climbed into his suit as well.

“Transfer the line to my helmet,” Dax said.

His O.G.R.E. suit shut around him, helmet clamping in place. The radio crackled to life.

“Unknown vessel, identify yourself and state your business,” the voice on the other end called out.

“This is the ES Junkyard. We are scrappers just looking to conduct business in this sector,” Dax replied.

“All business in this sector has ceased. Turn your ship around and leave this sector immediately.”

“Look, we’re just here to do a job; we’re not looking for any trouble and I promise you we don’t have any contraband. The items we carry are of no benefit to someone of your clear resources,” Dax said, returning to Mark’s chair. “And it won’t really help those on the surface either; it’ll just get us paid enough to get to the next refueling depot.”

The fighters took a more offensive formation before moving to an intercept path before the Junkyard.

“You will follow our ships to be escorted and your vessel inspected. We will determine the value of your cargo,” the voice crackled. “Any deviation or sign of hostility will result in your immediate immolation.”

“Understood,” Dax replied.

The radio shut off. Dax withdrew his helmet and leaned against Mark’s chair.

“You’re going to follow the fighters. We’re about to get inspected.”

“I thought the whole smuggling thing was to not get caught,” Mark said.

“It is, but if you do get caught, it’s to get out of the situation with everything intact,” Dax replied, pointing at the blockade. “And do you really think we’re going to sneak past that?”

“I figured it’d be more like three ships… so no,” Mark said.

He adjusted course as the fighters surrounded them, following them to the nearest space station.

“What are the rules?” Kane asked, re-emerging from the ship’s core.

“We were kidnapped from our home worlds,” Dalia started.

“We escaped our kidnappers,” Mark replied.

“And we’re just trying to find our way in the galaxy,” Dax added.

“And because we escaped the Valtakuntera, the whole backstory is true now,” Kane said, climbing into his armor. “If they ask who kidnapped us?”

“We’re from isolated planets and we don’t know who they were, or where they are,” Dax said.

Since leaving Dal’no’nuuur, they’d all recited that back story what felt like a thousand times a day. Kane kept doubling down on the fact that if they said it enough, it’d become true, so if they were ever captured, their captors would believe it.

“And like I said, we’re just scrappers making a delivery,” Dax added.

“Don’t let them separate us again either,” Dalia said, moving to Dax’s side. “They separate us, blow the Junkyard’s drive.”

“With how much power that thing turns out?” Mark scoffed, not taking his eyes off his flight path. “That’d torch half the planet below.”

“Then don’t let them separate us,” Dax added.

They closed in on one of the giant spheres. Its side opened up to reveal a voluminous hangar, large enough to swallow the Valtukta capital ship they’d escaped from.

They passed through a field of yellowish light once entering the hangar. Four fighters entered with them. The triangular-shaped craft landed in front of them with enough space for the Junkyard to fit. Dax glanced over at Kane. The former Marine’s face was pale; the blood vessels in his neck pulsed with each quickened heartbeat.

Seeing Kane’s reaction caused a sense of unease to settle within Dax. He looked back out of the viewport while Mark slowly landed the ship. Turrets emerged from the hangar ceiling and pointed directly at them. Transports rushed from the edges of the hangar. Once stopped, dozens of beings in full power armor emerged with large weapons drawn and pointed at the Junkyard.

“That is how you stop people from escaping,” Mark said with a chuckle.

“Mark, shut her down and keep your hands in clear view of those kind people with the guns,” Kane ordered while opening the side hatch. “You two, come with me, and let’s try not to pick a fight.”

Dax and Dalia followed Kane to the door. They jumped out of the ship, each landing hard on the hangar floor with a clang. Taking point, Dax led them toward the sleekly armored being that stepped forward to meet them.

With a tilt of his head, the helmet retracted, revealing snow-white skin drawn tight over sharp features, giving the being a gaunt appearance. A boney ridge ran from the tip of his pointed nose all the way up the narrowing triceratops-like fin that arched off the back of their skull.

Gray eyes with golden irises were locked on Dax. The cold, expressionless features mixed with the spiked bony protrusions of his brow made the former professor want to step back. He held fast. The alien’s bat-like ears twitched. Without looking away from Dax, it pointed directly at Mark.

“Why is the pilot still in the ship?”

“Since he’s just the pilot and does none of the actual scavenging, he doesn’t get the protective gear,” Dax replied, motioning toward their armor. “Makes him a little skittish when facing down almost thirty people with guns. He’s completely harmless. Your team can board our ship and inspect it if you’d like.”

With a nod, six of the fully armored, digitigrade-legged beings rushed toward the ship. They jumped into the vessel. Mark let out a squeal of surprise.

“Why do your other companions not speak?” the commander asked.

“I’m the only one on this crew that knows a language the translators aren’t programmed with,” Dax replied.

He looked at Kane. His mind raced, trying to plan for every potential situation if the being decided to delve deeper.

“Go ahead, Kane, say something,” Dax whispered in English.

“You look like an albino alligator and my ex-wife had a baby,” Kane replied without missing a beat.

Panic rushed through Dax. He fought it back as he turned to look at the commander. His expression didn’t change. He pointed to Dalia.

“I’m inclined to agree with the Hairless Pink Ape,” Dalia replied in her native tongue.

A slight smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Dax noticed the soldiers surrounding them move their fingers to their weapon’s triggers.

“Your species must be quite rare for your languages not to be in the database.”

Dax shrugged.

“More like the Valtakuntera haven’t reached that part of space yet.”

“And what races are you?”

“It’s usually polite to ask names first,” Dax countered, placing a hand on his chest. “I’m Dax, that’s Kane, the scared one in the ship is Mark. We’re homosuperior. This is Dalia. Not really sure what race she is. We picked her up in a derelict escape pod on one of our salvage jobs. What’s your name, and what race are you?”

“I am Ruthnar of the Dracolich. Commander of the Broken Shields.”

“For a blockade, I’d figure you’d want a name better than Broken Shields,” Dax replied without skipping a beat.

He paused, kicking himself at the quick comeback. The crash of their crates caused him to twitch while still holding his ground with Ruthnar.

“Looks like it’s just weapons, sir,” one of the soldiers called out. “Small arms, nothing that could get through our armor.”

“So, you’re an arms runner?” Ruthnar asked.

“No, they happened to be left over from a salvage and I was asked if I had any to spare. I’m not much a fan of firearms, so I’m giving them to the first person who asked. Didn’t realize there was a blockade in place; otherwise, we wouldn’t have taken the job.”

“You may leave; we will keep your supplies.”

“I can’t. I’ve already taken the job. I can’t abandon it,” Dax replied.

“So be it. We have a way to settle this.”

Ruthnar walked over to one of his soldiers and handed his rifle over. He returned to his spot, and with a series of snarls, his armor opened. He stepped free, his onyx black under suit contrasting starkly with his skin.

“I want her,” Ruthnar said, pointing at Dalia.

“Him and everyone else,” she muttered.

“You can’t have her. We’re Battle Bonded. She’s mine,” Dax countered.

“I didn’t mean as a mate, I meant to fight.”

Kane stepped forward, looking at Ruthnar.

“You’re a commander, right?” he asked.

Dax translated.

“I am.”

“Then don’t be a cowardly leader. Fight our leader!”

Dax grimaced at the comment. He tilted his head to one side.

“Seriously?” he whispered in English.

“Just translate it,” Kane replied.

Reluctantly, Dax relayed the message. Ruthnar threw his head back, letting out a rolling, almost purring laughter.

“He sounds like a velociraptor,” Kane whispered.

“Look at those claws. I think he might partially be one,” Dax replied.

He motioned at the three-inch claws that protruded from the end of each of Ruthnar’s four fingers and toes.

“Fine, I’ll fight you then, aged one,” Ruthnar snarled.

Dax placed a hand on Kane’s chest and shook his head.

“I’ll go,” Dax replied, turning back toward the dinosaur-looking man. “I speak for this crew; I act for this crew. You’ll fight me.”

“No armor, as we were born,” Ruthnar ordered.

“I don’t think you want that big ol’ thing flopping around,” Dax said, glancing back at Kane. “You can’t get past the old comments from anyone, can you?”

He summoned his helmet before initiating the ejection sequence. Stepping out of his suit, he started to stretch, crossing one arm over his chest before the other. Squatting, he loosened up his legs as the guards started to slam the butts of their guns against their armor and started to chant.

“Battle Rite, Battle Rite!”

“What are we fighting to?” Dax asked. “Pin, tap out, knock out?”

“A threat would be to the death,” Ruthnar replied, practice-swiping in front of himself. “For you, I will say until one of us can’t stand any more.”

With each swipe, Ruthnar’s claws whistled as they cut through the air.

“A little offended you don’t find me a threat,” Dax said. “I’ll have you know I was a white belt in karate on my planet.”

He punched the air a few times, getting himself ready before squaring up with the reptilian soldier.

14

BATTLE RITE

Ruthnar rushed at Dax with blinding speed. Dax took a deep breath, instinctively taking a half step back and leaning away. With a whistle, Ruthnar’s claw flew so close to his throat; he felt the wind from it. Dax jumped backward, putting several yards between them while rubbing his throat.

“Good thing I shaved before this,” he mused.

“Don’t make jokes, fight,” Kane barked.

Ruthnar lunged at him again. Dax ducked under a swipe meant for his chest. With all his might, he threw a punch into the commander’s chest, lifting the man off the ground. A bolt of pain tore through his knuckles as he struck the smooth under suit.

Dax shook his hand, the sharp pain quickly retreating to a dull throb. He looked at Ruthnar, disbelief overtaking him while inspecting his opponent’s suit. It looked like it was little more than a wet suit. The commander rubbed his chest.

“I actually felt that,” he mused. “Surprised someone so small could hit so hard.”

“Yeah, well, wait until I hit you in a place that’s not protected,” Dax countered.

“Protected?” Ruthnar asked.

His steely features shifted in confusion. Dax rushed his opponent and punched at his face with his left hand. In the split second he threw the attack, Dax recognized the look on Ruthnar’s face. It was the same one Kane got when tracking an attack and how to counter.

Ruthnar didn’t move. Dax’s hand slammed into his face. Another bolt of pain tore through his appendage, sending waves of pins and needles to his elbow. Dax staggered back, looking at his already bruised hands.

“Gyaha! What are you made of?”

“Tougher stuff than you,” Ruthnar countered, rubbing his cheek. “Excellent effort, though.”

“Dax, fall back,” Kane shouted.

The former professor turned toward Kane, his hands throbbing and dangling in front of him.

“All the dinosaurs feared the T-Rex,” he countered.

Kane closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead, letting out a defeated sigh. The whistle of claws slicing through air caught Dax’s ear. He wasn’t sure how, but he could tell exactly where his opponent was aiming, even with his back turned.

Dax jumped, narrowly dodging the swing meant for his legs. Landing, a rush of adrenaline coursed through his body. He grabbed the elbow of Ruthnar’s crossed arm. Pushing the commander, he managed to stay out of reach of his opponents’ far hand.

With his free elbow, Dax started to bash into Ruthnar’s face, driving the commander back with each blow. Each strike was like hitting concrete sending waves of pain through his elbow.

Ignoring it, he continued to push forward until his leg buckled. Dax dropped to a knee. He tried to stand up but collapsed once again. Ruthnar took several steps back. He rubbed his face, red blood staining the scales above his mouth.

A coldness ran through Dax’s calf accompanied by what felt like a surge of static. He looked down to see a slice in his jumpsuit and a pool of blood quickly growing around the area. Dax turned back to his opponent to see red on the middle claw of Ruthnar’s foot.

“You made me bleed?” Ruthnar whispered in disbelief.

He tapped the blood under his nose and inspected it.

“It’s been a while since I’ve met a combatant that could do that without weapons.”

“Yeah, well, get over here and I’ll show you some more,” Dax snarled.

He climbed to his feet, ignoring the waves of agony that gripped his calf. Dalia and Kane shouted, the sound of his blood rushing through his ears drowned them out. He raised his fists and held in his elbows to protect his face and body.

“So be it,” Ruthnar replied.

In a blur, he was on top of Dax once again. To his surprise, Dax was slightly faster than his opponent, able to stay a fraction of a step ahead of each swipe. He threw elbows where he could, each attack compounding the pain in his limbs, doing more damage to himself than his opponent.

Dax took a half step back and put all his weight on his injured leg. The damaged muscle couldn’t hold his weight, and in a howl of pain, he dropped to his knee. Another claw came at him.

Cold ran through Dax’s left arm as he blocked the razor of a nail from striking his face. Static that nearly overloaded his brain surged once bone was hit. Ruthnar tried to rip his claw free. It was stuck in Dax’s forearm.

With all his might, Dax thrust his open palm into the base of Ruthnar’s pointed nose. The bonelike protrusion pierced the former professor’s palm. Through the pain, he felt cartilage break.

More blood spurted from Ruthnar’s nose as he staggered backward, his claws ripping free from Dax’s arm. Dax’s forearm felt like it was on fire, like it’d been held inside a Dal’no forge.

He rose to his feet; his leg could now support his weight. Pain drowned out the insatiable itching he knew was there. Grabbing the rip in his jumpsuit, he tore the bottom half of the sleeve off. The pink of his bone stared at him from beneath peeled back flesh that was already starting to stitch itself together.

“I can do this all day,” Dax snarled, remembering one of his favorite movie lines.

“No, you can’t,” Kane countered. “You’re not Captain America.”

“Please don’t, Battle Bonded,” Dalia added.

A look of intrigue splashed across Ruthnar’s face, the stony demeanor warping to one of enjoyment. He rushed at Dax once more, slashing both hands at the professor turned rogue.

Favoring his non-injured leg, Dax ducked under the attack, dashed behind his opponent and wrapped his arms around Ruthnar’s waist. With a primal roar, he lifted the surprisingly light commander before throwing all his weight backward.

Ruthnar’s head hit the ground hard enough to shake the metal. Sparks caught Dax’s attention as his opponent’s claws dug into the metal in an effort to gain traction. Dax held on with all his might. Wiry muscle twisted in his arms like steel cord as the commander flipped his lower body over.

He ripped himself from Dax’s hold. In another blur, more pain shot across Dax’s chest. In the blink of an eye, his jumpsuit was torn open with a deep gash across his pecs.

“Yield,” Ruthnar snarled.

He panted, wiping blood from his nose as he ordered Dax to stop. With a groan, the former professor tried to push the pain out of his mind as he pulled himself to his feet, noticing a broken horn on the side of Ruthnar’s bony frill.

“I’m just getting warmed up,” Dax panted.

“What’s your plan? You’re bleeding everywhere.”

“That’s my plan, keep bleeding until you slip and fall on it and knock yourself out,” Dax replied.

With a low growl, Ruthnar rushed Dax once again. Before he’d made it three steps, a green fist the size of his head struck the commander square in the cheek. Dalia’s follow-through put the scaled warrior sliding face first across the ground, smearing both his and Dax’s blood behind him.

“No one harms Battle Bonded,” Dalia screamed.

Instantly, every rifle rose, pointing at them. Ruthnar let out a sharp growl; every rifle lowered. Dax looked up at Dalia, her face stern, eyes locked on the commander. Her body heaved with deep breaths, ready to fight.

“The green woman hits harder than anyone I’ve faced.” Ruthnar chuckled.

“Get closer and I’ll show you what I can really do,” she snarled.

He pushed off the ground and stood up. His pristine white scales were darkened where Dalia punched him while blood trickled from his mouth. Ruthnar wiped it away before approaching.

“I’m her Battle Bonded. She has a bad habit of intervening if she thinks I’m about to get myself killed,” Dax replied, placing a hand on her forearm to calm her.

“It’s fair enough. If you weren’t going to stop, I would’ve been forced to kill you,” Ruthnar said.

Dalia’s muscles tensed under Dax’s fingers; he heard Kane take several steps forward.

“Fight’s not over. Does that mean you’re still going to try?” Dax asked, knowing if he said yes, Dalia would rush him and his guards would open fire.

Ruthnar stood in front of Dax. His heart slammed like a hammer in his chest. His eyes scanned every inch of the dragon-like man in front of him, waiting for movement to suggest an attack. Seconds felt like hours from anticipating an attack that would never come. Ruthnar bowed to them both. A wave of relief washed over Dax, allowing him to relax.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve faced someone whose blows I could feel, let alone two,” Ruthnar said with a chuckle as he rubbed his graying cheek. “For as long as I can remember, the first time I broke skin, my opponents have surrendered. You are tenacious enough to stand and fight with a disabled leg and arm. I’m impressed. Actually, I wonder now if it was tenacity or stubbornness?”

“Is it too much to ask for both?” Dax questioned, looking down at his heavily damaged arm. His muscle had already stitched itself back together, his skin expanding to seal the wound fast enough he could see it.

“Where do you stand on the Valtakuntera?” Dax asked.

Cackles rose from the surrounding guards. Ruthnar dragged his claw across the ground in disgust.

“They took my people’s home. They can all burn,” Ruthnar snarled.

At that comment, the other guards dragged their feet across the ground in the same manner.

“So, you hate them?” Dax asked.

“With every scale on my body.”

“Good, then I don’t feel so bad saying this. I owe you thanks for this little display,” Dax added, stepping toward Ruthnar. “The Valtukta ran experiments on my crew and me, the extent of which we still don’t know.”

Dax pulled open his shirt to show the gash across his chest rapidly closing. His eye twitched, the adrenaline once numbing his body starting to wear off. Pain surged through every inch of his body, howling across his chest, arms and legs. The burst of agony caused sweat to seep from him.

“This was an interesting experiment. I now know damage down to the bone seems to still heal over, and punching you is like punching steel,” Dax continued, his voice quaking with the growing pain. “I may be a professor, but even I can appreciate a good fight.”

Ruthnar’s brow raised in shock at the comment.

“You’re an educator?” he asked.

“Was,” Dax countered. “I’m an O.G.R.E. now.”

“Either way, I’d hate to see what a warrior of your race could do.”

Dax glanced back at Kane, his hand on the magnetic tool at his armor’s hip.

“That’s what you would’ve gotten if you fought him.”

“That, I’m not sure I would’ve survived. Take your salvage, you’re free to go.”

Dax extended his hand to Ruthnar. The being looked at the gesture, then back at Dax, confusion strewn across his taut features. “I am already betrothed. And well, quite frankly, you’re not my type.”

“Why does everybody keep saying that? It’s the way my people greet and say farewell,” Dax explained. “It’s a sign of trust, respect and friendship.”

Ruthnar raised his hand and placed his palm against Dax’s. The former professor grasped the scaly hand and gave his opponent a firm shake. Ruthnar carefully closed his hand as well, shaking it back.

“Our contract here is up in four cycles. When it’s done, my group will return to Tachyon. If you ever want a friendly rematch…” Ruthnar looked up at Dalia. “Or would like a sparring partner, you will find us there.”

“We’ll keep that in mind,” Dax replied.

Both men released each other’s hands. Dax turned and started to limp back toward the Junkyard. Every step sent a dull, pulsing pain radiating deep through his leg. Ruthnar’s men loaded the crates back into their ship.

Dalia retrieved Dax’s armor and Kane gave him a boost. He grabbed the edge of the door and pulled himself up. Getting inside the ship, he rolled to his back, scratching at his chest and arm. The other two leaped into the vessel and closed the door before locking it.

“Do we need to talk to you about how dumb that was?” Kane asked.

“I don’t like risking your life like that,” Dalia scolded.

“Kane, you’re tactical; this crew needs your mind. Mark wouldn’t have lasted two seconds against that guy, and Dalia, if he would’ve cut you to the bone, would it have healed like this?” Dax lifted his arm; his new skin was pink. “I’m not saying I’m expendable, but I’m a jack of all trades, I do a lot of things well, but in a well-rounded crew like this, my skills can be redundant… my goodness, this itches so bad.”

“Were his claws dipped in some sort of chemical?” Mark asked.

“No, it’s the healing process. Remember when you were a kid, and you’d scrape your knee? How the last few days before the scab fell off, it’d itch like crazy? That’s cellular regeneration at a normal level,” Dax explained. “This is hundreds, if not thousands of times faster.”

“I’ll go find you some food. You’ll be starving after this,” Kane said, walking past him.

The Junkyard’s engines roared to life. The craft rose off the hangar floor. It turned and flew free of the ship before turning toward the planet below. Dalia dropped Dax’s armor next to him before sitting down.

“Thanks for the save,” he said, offering her a smile.

“Don’t do that again,” she replied, concern filling her face.

15

TOUCH DOWN

Flying through the blockade, Mark tapped the screens in front of him. A radar pinged, indicating cities dotted around the world. Dax got to his feet and limped his way toward the radar and inspected all the dots.

“Where are we supposed to meet them?” Mark asked.

They broke through the cloud cover to a world dotted with mountain ranges as far as the eye could see. Dax leaned forward and let out a soft whoa.

“Those make Everest look small,” Kane mused from behind them.

“Every single one of them,” Dax whispered.

“There,” Dalia said, pointing at a range away from the rest. “That’s where we go.”

“How do you know?” Mark asked.

One hand pointed out the view port as the other pointed at the radar. She dragged her finger across the green dots while motioning at the mountain range.

“The cities are in the mountains,” Dalia said.

She pointed at the lone dot, then out toward flatlands in the distance.

“If that was in a mountain, we’d be able to see it from here.”

“She’s not wrong, it’s a good place to start,” Kane added.

“I thought Bleeze said this world was backwater; there are a lot of cities for that classification,” Dax mumbled, stepping back from the pilot chair.

“Just because it has a lot of cities, doesn’t mean it’s advanced. There could be a million reasons why it’s no longer a bustling hub of a world,” Kane explained.

“Yeah, take the Dal’no for example, they had a ship orbiting our world for hundreds of years and no one noticed. Now they’re somewhere between the Stone and Iron ages,” Mark said, changing their course.

“Those ages weren’t together,” Dax chimed in.

“Did you see a lot of bronze on Dal’no’nuuur?” Mark asked. “Because I sure didn’t.”

As they started their descent, the ship rocked violently from a crosswind. Dax grasped at the nearest panel, narrowly missing it. Dalia clutched him before reaching behind her and catching Kane.

“I’ve got you both,” she said.

“Much appreciated,” Kane replied.

Dax kept his eyes locked beyond the view port; his hands held tightly to Dalia’s arm. They approached an uprising of trees that grew into a large, wide forest. Mark spun the ship, their door facing the tree line. After a few seconds the ship rattled once, setting down. The familiar ‘tink’ of a bolt falling loose echoed through the ship.

“Well, I think that’s the longest we’ve gone without losing something,” Dax said. “Speaks to the quality of Bleeze’s repair team.”

Mark unstrapped himself. He marched over to Dax as Dalia released him. The teen held out an open hand.

“Knife, please,” he said.

“Why?” Dax asked.

Through clenched teeth, Mark pointed at the abomination at the top of his head.

“Those armored dragon people were laughing the entire time they were in here. Some of the comments they made may have been witty, but also mildly hurtful. I’m finishing up this hack job before we go and see anyone else!”

“It’s not a hack job,” Dax said, handing over his knife. “I think Dalia did great work. It’s an improvement.”

“It’s terrible,” she countered. “I don’t know how humans do it, or what you’re looking at, but if you did that to yourself in Dal’no society, you’d be banished until it got fixed.”

“That’s something we have in common,” Kane chimed in. “Haircut that bad would get you taunted relentlessly for likely the rest of your life.”

“It’s a good thing I’m on a spaceship with well-adjusted people who will respect my boundaries,” Mark said, making his way toward his room.

“We’re not well-adjusted,” Dax scoffed.

“Of course you’re not… well, aside from what she did with my hair, Dalia seems to be, but you two are the most unhinged people I’ve ever met.”

“I don’t think that’s a fair assessment of your crewmates,” Dax countered. “I might have to take this to HR.”

“Oh really? We’ve got a war criminal who murdered an entire platoon with religious iconography, and do we need to talk about what happened to Znanstvenk Henuva?” Mark asked, his brow raised.

“We found Dalia, didn’t we?” Dax asked.

“And I would like to counter argue that an entire village survived because of my actions,” Kane replied.

“See, it was for the greater good. They’re not unhinged,” Dalia mused.

“Easy for you to say; you didn’t see what happened to pointy,” Mark countered, his voice rising to a squeal.

“I think he’d be called half point now,” Dax teased.

Mark’s expression dropped. He crossed his arms before motioning at them with the dagger.

“That’s wrong on at least sixty-nine different levels,” he said.

Mark turned and walked into the bathroom.

“I’ll come out when I’m finished,” he added, shutting the door.

“Have fun and be sure to clean my knife off when you’re done.”

Kane walked over to the ship’s main entrance and unlocked it. Dax watched as he pulled it open with a screech. He quickly drew his magnetic gun and pressed his back against the wall next to the doorframe. Dax grabbed Dalia and instinctively moved her to the side of the ship until he couldn’t see outside anymore. He pulled his magnetic gun as well.

“What’s wrong?” Dax asked, his nerves on edge.

“Four rifles were pointed directly at me when I opened that door,” Kane replied.

“These rifles wouldn’t be pointed at you if you were expected,” a woman’s voice echoed from beyond the tree line.

Dax and Kane looked at each other. Their eyes bugged as they motioned back and forth at each other while mouthing for the other to speak next.

“Can you understand me?” Dalia shouted in her native tongue.

“Our translators are working just fine,” the woman replied.

“Yes, but if you can understand us, that means Bleeze has shared his translator coding for our languages with you,” Dax shouted back. “We’re going to put our guns away; I’m going to ask that you put your guns away and we can talk this out like civilized people!”

“If it’s civilized you want, you wouldn’t have come here,” the woman countered. “And you can tell Bleeze that he can take whatever he hired you to bring to us and shove it right back where the sun doesn’t shine.”

“Even if it’s medicine?” Dax asked. “You want him to shove all this medicine up there too?”

Silence was his response. Dax tilted his head, listening for anything that could give away what was going on out there. He heard rustling and murmuring but wasn’t able to make out what was being said.

“I swear, if this is another one of Bleeze’s pissed off exes, I’m going to put him in a box and bring him on our next job,” Dalia huffed.

“I remember Mon’EE’Ka, that barb took almost a full month to heal,” Kane snarled.

“Remember Ereyeka?” Dax asked.

Dalia touched a scar on her arm, bearing her tusks.

“Wreeta got Mark pretty good too,” Dax added.

“Do I need to bring up Taheena?” Mark shouted from the bathroom.

“Please don’t,” Dax, Kane and Dalia said in unison.

“Okay!” the woman shouted. “Come out with your hands up, one at a time.”

All three froze and looked at one another. Dalia raised her brow before motioning to them.

“Well? Where’s your whole ‘I’ll go’ on this one?” she asked.

Dax held up his fist, cracking a smile.

“Loser walks?” Dax asked.

“You humans are so strange,” Dalia scoffed, lifting a fist into the air.

“This is so juvenile,” Kane muttered.

“Feel free to go out there, then.” Dax countered.

Kane immediately raised his fist. Dalia gave Dax three soft taps on his back. They moved their fists up and down. On the fourth downward stroke, Dalia and Dax both threw scissors. Kane’s hand was open flat. He rolled his eyes and huffed.

“Fine, but I’m going to be fully armored for this. And if I get shot in the face again, I’m taking it out on you two.”

Kane holstered his magnetic weapon and activated his helmet.

“I’m coming out, don’t shoot,” he shouted before whispering, “Please.”

Kane put his hands up and stepped into the doorway. He inched toward the frame before jumping out. Dax and Dalia moved as close to the opening as they could, pressing themselves against the wall. Her warm breath ran down the nape of his neck. Dax glanced up at her and offered her a quick smile.

“My name is Kane. I am the most senior on our ship. We’re here to bring you medicine.”

“How’d you get past the blockade?” the woman asked.

Dax moved to peek around the corner and get a look. Dalia grabbed him and quickly pulled him back.

“We didn’t,” Kane replied. “They pulled us in for inspection, decided that what we had wasn’t considered contraband and let us go.”

“I know the Dracolich Mercenary Group has been hired as protection from our overseers. They wouldn’t just let you leave with the supplies.”

“They didn’t. Our resident intellect fought Ruthnar in unarmored hand-to-hand combat.”

“And what species was he that he could stand against Ruthnar?” the woman asked.

“Dax, you want to poke your head out here real quick?” Kane shouted. “Guns are down.”

Dax thrust his hands out for them to see first. Dalia grabbed the back of his jumpsuit.

“At least get in your armor first,” she whispered.

Dax looked at his gear in the middle of the door opening.

“If they’re going to shoot me, they’d take the shot when I tried to get my suit,” Dax countered. “I’ll be okay. I’ll use Kane as a shield if I need to.”

“Are you coming out? I’m getting bored,” the woman called out.

Dax stepped into view. He flashed a nervous smile while scanning the tree line. Three women tried to blend in with camouflage. He spotted each of them clear as day. A woman in green and brown tactical gear stood in front of Kane.

She was a humanoid with soft blue skin with lines around her mouth, eyes and forehead from decades of laughter. Her cat-like features caught him off guard while he tried not to stare at her elongated canines. Mint green hair with streaks of gray tumbled down her shoulders, matted with the humidity of the lower lands. Long, blue ears protruded from her hair and twitched as her eyes darted over Dax’s former injuries.

“I don’t see any wounds,” she snarled.

Dax looked at his arm and leg, They were tender but healed. He grabbed the gash in his shirt and opened it to reveal the last of the deep cut closing. He offered her a smile.

“We heal fast,” Dax explained. “Felt everything, but fortunately, it doesn’t seem like it’s permanent. My name is Dax, this is Kane. My Battle Bonded, a large green lady, is Dalia, and we have a mousy one named Mark who’s still working on getting himself cleaned up.”

She extended her hand toward him, long, pointed nails tipped longer, slender fingers.

“Bleeze said this is how your people greet?” she asked.

Dax leaned forward and gave her hand a firm shake.

“It is,” he said.

“My name’s Sandrina.”

“And that makes five,” Kane mused.

16

DROP

Dax stood at the open door of the ship. Mark, with a freshly shaved head, looked down at him, a crate at his feet.

“Do we have to drop them?” Mark asked. “Won’t that damage the supply?”

“It didn’t damage them before. How are you thinking we get them down?”

“The ladder, maybe? Use it as a slide.”

“You want to use the ladder?” Dax asked, his hand on his hips. “You remember what happened last time we used the ladder, right?”

“Yeah, but that was before Bleeze made his repairs.”

“Fine, get the ladder,” Dax relented.

Mark dropped to his knee. He reached inside the doorframe and unlatched a piece of metal. It broke free. Dax rolled his eyes and shook his head. The teen pulled their rusted ladder all the way out before lowering it to the ground.

“Just grab the last rung and pull it toward you, then I’ll slide the first crate down and you can catch it,” Mark called out.

Dax followed Mark’s instructions. He held the bottom rung at chest height with both hands.

“You’re not going to try to block the crate?” Mark asked.

“It’s not getting down here. Look at this ladder. Even the guys who blatantly ignore OSHA regulations wouldn’t use this thing,” Dax countered.

“Just trust me, okay?” Mark huffed.

“Fine, but when you’re wrong, I get to say I told you so.”

“I’m not going to be wrong,” Mark taunted.

He grabbed the crate next to him and carefully placed it on the ladder. Dax shifted his weight to one side and waved for him to send it. Mark carefully tipped the back of the crate up. Gravity took over. It slid toward Dax’s face quickly. He didn’t move a hand to block it, just looked up at Mark.

A metallic groan rang out. The ladder in Dax’s hand fell limp. It snapped in half, sending the crate tumbling to the ground with a thud. Both halves of the ladder dropped to the mossy ground with a muted impact. Mark lowered his head, shaking it while running his hand over his extremely short hair.

“Told you so,” Dax teased, pointing at the nose of the ship. “What’s the name written up there?”

“Junkyard,” Mark replied in defeat.

“And why do we call it Junkyard?” Dax asked.

“Because it’s held together by duct tape and hate,” Mark replied.

“Exactly. I told you the ladder wouldn’t work. Now let’s do something that will. Drop them, I’ll catch them.”

“These things are almost a hundred pounds each.”

“And yet you can now pick it up with one hand,” Dax countered.

“Oh yeah,” The teen chuckled. “We’re strong now!”

He grabbed a second crate and threw it out of the ship. Dax’s eyes widened. He quickly dashed for the large, rectangular object with his arms out. It slammed into his chest, sending a wave of pain through his still healing body.

Wrapping his arms under it, he held the crate in place while its weight knocked him off his feet. Dax crashed into the ground. The moss cushioned his impact while the crate knocked the air from his lungs. With a wheeze, his arms and legs fell limp, the box still on his chest.

“You good?” Mark shouted down.

“Bite me,” Dax replied.

He grabbed the edge of the box and shoved it off. As he took a deep breath, Dax’s lungs filled with air. His chest burned with each breath. Rolling over to his hands and knees, he placed a palm on his aching upper body, rubbing it while struggling to refill his lungs.

“We’re strong for humans,” Dax shouted up, looking at Mark. “We’re still human. Meaning hundred-pound boxes dropping fifteen feet hurt.”

“You told me to drop it,” Mark countered.

“Did I say I was ready?”

“No.”

“Then don’t throw it until I say I’m ready.”

Dax pushed himself to his feet. Standing up, he dropped his head back and took several deep breaths while looking up at the bright blue sky. The blockade was still glaringly visible from their current location.

The throbbing in his chest continued. Dax turned toward his starship and rubbed his chest. Planting his feet, he tightened every muscle in his lower body and torso before waving the next crate on. Mark stood there, looking at him in silence.

“What are you doing?” Dax asked.

“You said to wait until you say you’re ready. You didn’t say you were ready.”

“I motioned to you, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but you didn’t SAY you were ready,” Mark replied. “And you told me to wait until you said it.”

“Fine, I’m ready. Now throw the freaking crate,” Dax snapped impatiently.

Without missing a beat, Mark slung the third box out. Dax watched it fall toward him; its handle flapped in the wind. The world around him felt as if it slowed while the crate plummeted at him. His hands adjusted almost on their own as if they knew where the handles would be before he did.

The box struck him like a hammer. He took several steps back, lessening its impact while his fingers closed around the handles. It jerked toward the ground. He slowed its descent just enough for it to land gently.

“You know, I have to say I’m not a huge fan of how we decide things when we don’t get a volunteer,” Mark called down.

Dax picked up the crate and moved it out of the way. He dusted his hands off before taking his position once again.

“Rock, paper, scissors, it’s as fair as it gets,” Dax countered. “I’m pretty sure that’s a law somewhere.”

Mark grabbed the last box and stood at the door’s edge.

“If it’s as fair as it gets, then why is it it’s always you, me, or Kane that pulled the proverbial short straw?”

“What do you mean?” Dax asked, bracing himself once more.

“Let’s take a look at the last two instances. Where’s Kane and Dalia now? They get the cool tour while we unpack. Who won the meet and greet? You and Dalia. And to jump back even further. Back on Talos 1, we lost every single rock, paper, scissors game we threw on that job.”

“That’s not a whole lot of evidence to back that statement,” Dax countered.

“We played fifteen games. She’s won at least the last twenty.”

Dax’s mind rushed back to her tapping on him just before they threw hands for meeting the new species. She’d stood next to Kane when they chose who’d unload the ship. Memories flooded him of each game they’d played on the Talos 1 job. She stood next to the other half of the winning party each time.

A cackle bubbled up from Dax’s gut when he pieced the puzzle together. He shook his head in disbelief, only to be snapped back to the present by a heavy impact to his chest. Dax hit the ground once more with a groan. He gasped before throwing the crate off himself.

“You okay?” Mark called down.

“Fine,” Dax wheezed.

“I thought you were ready; you were in your stance.”

“But I didn’t say I was.”

Dax sat up, coughing while holding his chest. Mark jumped from the ship, landing next to the broken ladder. He gathered both pieces and piled them nicely next to the Junkyard before rushing toward Dax’s side.

Dax rubbed his chest. Looking down through the slice in his shirt, he saw his skin try to blacken before retreating to the sickly yellow. He felt Mark’s arm loop around his upper body and pull him to his feet.

“It’s good that we’re tough too,” the teen mused.

Dax looked down at him. Mark gave a nervous chuckle before motioning to the crates.

“Should we get these to the encampment?” Mark asked.

“Yeah, but you’re in front,” Dax muttered.

While rubbing his aching chest, Dax helped Mark place the four crates in two stacks of two. Both men moved to a rear position. Dax scoffed and shook his head, pointing to the front.

“You’re front,” Dax ordered.

“I want to be in the back.”

Mark paused and smirked. Dax took a deep breath and shook his head.

“She never said that. Now get to the front.”

“But the back controls the pace,” Mark argued.

“Exactly, and you just hit me in the face with two of these crates because you weren’t paying attention…”

“It could be argued that I only hit you in the face with one because I wasn’t paying attention,” Mark argued. “The second one hit you in the face because you weren’t paying attention.”

“I’m not going to be up there and having you knock into me every three feet because I’m not moving at the pace you want me to.”

“You want to throw for it?” Mark asked, readying for rock, paper, scissors.

“The only thing I’ll be throwing for is my fist at your face if you don’t get up there,” Dax threatened.

Both men knew he’d never actually swing at Mark. Kane, on the other hand… The teen rolled his eyes, huffed and reluctantly took his position at the front of the crates.

“I know you thought that line made you sound tough,” Mark said, lifting his side. “But that really just sounded like a poorly written script.”

Dax picked up the back of their delivery. He gave them a playful shove, making Mark stumble forward.

“At least I didn’t look like Psycho Barbie for the better part of a day,” Dax teased.

“I blame your little girlfriend for that one.”

They made their way to the tree line and a small path recently carved out for them.

“You’re wrong on both those accounts. She’s not my girlfriend, and she’s certainly not small.”

“If she’s not your girlfriend, then why’d you kiss?” Mark teased.

“I didn’t kiss her, she kissed me, and how’d you know about that?” Dax asked, his cheeks growing warm.

“I didn’t.” Mark chuckled.

“You’re a jerk.”

“Meh, if I were a jerk, I would’ve made a move on her when she had her legs wrapped around my head.”

They edged their way around a large tree while pressing on through the thick undergrowth of the forest. Loose, still green plant life on the ground guided them through the extremely narrow path.

“She had a razor-sharp knife against your skull. If you would’ve done that, we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” Dax countered while they ducked under a branch.

“Look, I know you don’t like us talking about this, but…”

“Careful, boy,” Dax warned.

The flush in his cheeks shifted to the furnace in his gut.

“You know what? No, because right now, there’s five feet between us, your hands are full and I’m smaller than you.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“If you decide to charge me, I can escape into the trees, and even climb one where you can’t reach me,” Mark countered. “Kane and I both think that this whole Victorian chaste thing you’ve got going on with Dalia is boring. You need to cut the crap and just go for it already.”

“And what makes you say that?” Dax asked.

His anger shifted to amusement while Mark became increasingly flustered while speaking.

“You’re Battle Bonded. In her culture, you’re already married. She keeps coming to you for English lessons and you keep giving her English lessons,” Mark added, continuing on their path.

“And what is your point with that?” Dax asked. “She’s not a native English speaker.”

“She’s been fluent since our fourth month in space,” Mark belted. “I think she’s coming to you for some one-on-one time with hopes of other lessons happening. If you get my drift.”

“I get it.”

“Do you? I’m talking about laying with your wife in the biblical sense.”

“I said I get it.”

“In this scenario, she would be the big spoon and you would be the little spoon.”

“You’re about to be a broken spoon.”

They moved out of the tree line into a makeshift village with dozens of women who looked almost identical to Sandrina, with slight variations to their appearance and hair colors. They all turned to look at Mark and Dax. The warmth in his cheeks returned.

“Crate delivery,” Dax announced.

17

PROBLEMS

The women rushed Dax and Mark. Dax released the crates and took several steps back. Mark set his side down and stood with his arms outstretched.

“Ladies, how you doi-ahhh!”

One of the women elbowed him in the side of the head to get him out of the way. Dax rushed around the crowd to Mark’s side. He helped the staggering teen keep his feet, the locals bashing into them both like a mosh-pit at a concert.

“Was the elbow really necessary?!” Mark shouted. “I bruise easily. At least, I did.”

“Was hitting on an entire group of women necessary?” Dax asked.

He pulled the teen out of the mob before straightening his jumpsuit.

“You’re not Joey Tribiani.”

“You don’t know that,” Mark taunted.

“You’re a seventeen-year-old who hasn’t had normal socialization since you were thirteen. Unless you make a very conscious effort to regulate those hormonal urges, you’re likely going to get yourself killed by the age of twenty.”

A wry smirk tugged at the edges of Mark’s lips.

“Don’t you dare make a comment,” Dax snapped.

“What are these?!” one of the women hissed.

Another swore while picking up a gun and inspecting it.

“We don’t need weapons,” another called out.

The entire group turned toward Dax and Mark. Their vertically slit pupils narrowed while their ears tucked back.

“Have you ladies never had anything smuggled to you before?” Mark scoffed.

Dax shot him a steely glance.

“Are you trying to make it dead by eighteen?” Dax whispered.

He turned back toward the women, now pointing the smuggled guns at him.

“Ladies, the weapons are for you if you want them, but those aren’t what we were bringing you,” Dax said, pointing at the boxes. “If you’ll feel around the inside edge, you should find a tab. Grab it and give it a pull.”

One of the women followed his instructions. With a yank, the false bottom gave way. Their anger instantly subsided and the weapons were cast to the ground. Like cats on a mouse, they swarmed the medical supplies.

“I’m surprised you guys got it out already,” Kane’s voice rang out from behind them.

Dax turned to see Sandrina, Kane and Dalia emerging from the overgrown underbrush. Dalia blended in with the surrounding green almost perfectly.

“Did you use the ladder as a slide?” she asked.

“Dax said it wouldn’t work,” Mark replied.

“And?” Dalia asked.

“It didn’t work, the thing snapped halfway through the first delivery,” Dax chimed in. “Then he proceeded to pelt me in the chest with two of them. I did manage to catch one of them, though.”

Sandrina stopped in front of Dax. She rested one fist on her hip before looking at the group behind him.

“How’s the delivery look?” she shouted.

“Exactly what we needed,” a woman replied.

Sandrina studied Dax and flashed her canines in a wide smile.

“Good, now, while you’re down here, we could use a little bit of help,” she said.

Dax’s heart sank at the comment. He didn’t want to keep going; he just wanted to get the job done and move on to the next one. He shook his head before looking at the excited women.

“We took two jobs for Bleeze. The second one is urgent. This one just happened to be on the way,” Dax replied.

“I can appreciate your dedication to your contract, and I’d be willing to make you an offer for this job too,” she said, a desperate pleading spreading across her face.

Dax looked at Kane. He nodded in approval. He turned to Dalia; she nodded as well.

“You’re going to want to see this one,” Dalia said.

“Fine, what is it?” Dax huffed.

“This world used to be a Hub World. Recently, it’s been relegated to a few warring factions. The mountain cities have been all but abandoned and we are trying our hardest not to let the race that this calls home destroy itself,” she said, flipping her hair out of her face. “And now with our supplies cut off, our jobs have become that much harder.”

Don’t ask, don’t ask, don’t ask, don’t ask. Dax thought to himself.

“What’s going on?” he asked, his lips moving before his mind could tell him to stop.

Closing his eyes, Dax let out a defeated sigh before looking back up at Sandrina. A wide smile spread across her lips; her button nose scrunched in excitement.

“They’ve been fighting for almost an entire generation over a blessing dropped by their gods. My relief team provides food, bandages, and medical assistance to both sides when needed. Our job is to stay here until we can find a peaceful solution to this fighting,” Sandrina explained. “If the fighting doesn’t end, we don’t leave. If we don’t leave, the blockade never stops. If that never stops, the civilization of this world will continue to regress.”

“And where were they when you first got here?” Dax asked.

“They’d made it to their moon,” she replied.

Dax scratched his forehead, knowing he’d regret the next question that left his mouth, and again, he was unable to stop himself.

“And what is this artifact?”

“I don’t know, we’ve never been able to get close enough to see it.”

“They know where it is, though,” Kane chimed in. “And with Dalia’s natural predilection to disappear in the trees, she’ll be perfect for this mission.”

“We can pay you handsomely and even provide fresh clothes for your crew,” Sandrina added.

The pragmatist in him screamed at him to get on the ship and leave. The job was done. The father in him looked at her freckled, excited face. Underneath, he could see the fear she tried desperately to try and hide.

“Fine,” he said with a reluctant sigh. “We’ll help, but the clothes are up front.”

“Thank you,” Sandrina said with a sigh of relief. “Follow me.”

She turned and walked into the thick bushes of the forest. Dax quickly followed. The natural green in her hair stood out against those of the bushes like a highlighter on paper.

Dalia’s heavy footsteps behind him caught his ear. Glancing back, he saw Kane and Mark inches away from each other and Dalia.

“What are you guys doing?” Dax asked.

“This way, we don’t get hit with moving plants,” Mark mused.

“You’re ridiculous,” Dax scoffed and shook his head.

He turned back toward Sandrina to see a large frond whip at him. It smacked him in the face harmlessly. Dax grabbed the plant and shoved it out of the way.

“Like that,” Mark teased.

“Exactly like that,” Kane added.

Dax replied with a mocking laugh before speeding up to meet Sandrina’s pace. His breathing increased, filling his lungs with the growing humidity of the forest with the distinct scent of pollen teasing at his nose.

“If the people of this world have abandoned their cities and their numbers fell to the point they’re practically tribal now, why do they need that large of a blockade?” Dax asked.

“They don’t,” Sandrina replied, breaking an elephant ear plant out of her way. “They do it to prove a point. To make this world an example to the rest of the galaxy.”

They approached a fallen tree, half rotted with all manner of strange insects crawling all over it. Dax inspected the tree that was as large around as he was. An opportunity to run an experiment sent a tingle down his spine.

Stepping forward, he grabbed the log and pulled. To his surprise, it moved. He repositioned himself, tightened his stomach and lifted the log, extending his arms over his head. He let out a chuckle while looking at the log before turning back to their escort.

“And what is that example exactly?” Dax asked.

“That if you’re the Valtakuntera, you need to mine worlds in your part of space,” she replied, ducking under the tree.

Dalia approached, looked at the massive tree, grabbed it with one hand and lifted it out of Dax’s grasp. She tossed it to the sound of a crunch as it hit the ground before rolling to a stop.

“That’s just embarrassing,” Mark mused, causing everyone to stop.

Dax grabbed a nearby fern, pulled it out of the ground and smacked him in the face with it.

“Oh look, shadowing Dalia and Kane didn’t save you,” he said, his tone deadpan.

He smacked the teen again, who laughed and pulled the fern out of Dax’s grip. He turned back to their guide and jogged back up to her.

“You’re telling me the Valtakuntera isn’t the only empire in the galaxy?” Dax asked.

“No, just the biggest and strongest, but this planet is so close to the border that the Ryshy decided to make a statement by showing what they can do to a planet.”

“Forgive me, miss, our worlds are actual backwater, not proverbial, like Bleeze made this one out to be,” Kane called up. “What’s the Ryshy empire?”

“They are to commerce and trade what the Valtukta are to science and war,” Sandrina replied. “They both have this deluded notion that they can take control of the galaxy in their own ways. All they do is hurt the people in it.”

“Only care about power and not the people they’re supposed to be wielding that power to protect?” Mark asked.

“Precisely.”

“Yeah, we’ve got organizations like that on Earth too, but they aren’t called empires anymore,” Mark continued.

“What do you call them?” Sandrina asked.

“Politicians.”

Kane and Dax snorted in unison, stifling a laugh.

“That’s a great joke,” Dax said, letting out a chuckle.

“That’s a joke?” Sandrina asked. “How is the suffering of trillions a joke?”

“I don’t get it,” Dalia added.

Kane moved next to Dax and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“My intellectual friend here wasn’t saying the suffering of trillions is a joke, but that the politicians on our world, with what little power they have, think they wield the might of an empire.” Kane pointed at a break in the canopy to the line of massive ships visible from orbit. “When their squabbling means nothing compared to someone who can do that.”

Sandrina shook her head before crossing her arms.

“Look, these people don’t have long. Their next battle takes place in two days, and it will entail every single person on this planet. If that battle happens, these people go extinct.”

Sandrina shoved aside a large fern to reveal a base. All four of the buildings were temporary but made of metal. A fire pit sat in the center with pots stacked neatly next to it. With a nod from their guide, they entered the campground.

“Okay, so what do you want us to be, negotiators or to steal this gift from the gods?” Mark asked.

“I don’t care, so long as it brings a stop to the fight and commerce can return to this world,” Sandrina replied. “If they’re lucky, in a generation or two, they’ll be back where they once were.”

“I’ll be the negotiator,” Dalia said.

“Only if you say, ‘Hello there’ when you meet them,” Mark cut in.

Dalia gave Mark a confused look before turning back to their escort.

“If that’s okay,” she added.

“Dalia would be a good choice. She comes from a world that was space faring, and are now about eight generations from getting where they once were, likely even with help,” Dax replied.

“While negotiations take place, Dax and I can look at this gift of the gods and see what we can find out about it,” Kane added.

“That sounds like a plan,” Sandrina said, looking up at Dalia. “I’ll act as your translator. Now, Dax, let’s get you into some clothes.”

“I didn’t see any guys in that mob,” Mark pointed out.

“The men were viewed as a threat by the Ryshy blockade. However, they left some of their belongings behind when they were escorted off world.”

18

SUIT UP

Dax stood in the bunk shelter. A pile of clothes lay before him on a bed while he stood, inspecting them, in his boxers. Most of the clothes looked too small for him. His jumpsuit didn’t work as a template due to it being torn into pieces. He scratched at the hairless streak across his chest out of habit, the echoes of his healing itch rapidly fading.

He grabbed a set of pants and tried them on. He barely got them to his knees before they were caught. Trying to step out, he lost his balance. Dax hopped to stay upright and failed. He hit the dirt ground with a grunt.

“Are you okay?” Dalia asked from outside the door.

“Yep, just lost my balance. I’m good, though,” Dax replied.

He looked down at his legs and kicked the pants off before rolling to his back.

“Okay, how skinny are these people?” he huffed before sitting up.

“Judging by the looks of Sandrina and her team, I would say even the men are extremely skinny,” Dalia replied from beyond the door.

“It was more of a rhetorical question,” Dax said.

He dusted himself off while moving up several sizes. He grabbed one of the shirts. Dax pulled it over his head and down his torso. It stopped just below his chest, leaving his stomach exposed.

“Well, that’s not good, unless I’m going to be in an eighties workout video.”

“What isn’t good?” Dalia asked. “And who is this eighty-year-old video?”

“This shirt makes me look like I’m part of a nineties girl band,” Dax replied. “In the eighties, guys would wear something similar in videos they recorded with instruction on how to exercise.”

“Ninety girl bands?” Dalia asked. “Why do they require so many?”

“It’s nothing,” Dax countered.

He grabbed the bottom of the shirt and started forcing it down. It got stuck around his shoulders, obscuring his vision. He pulled, and the rip of a seam screamed from the article of clothing. He stopped and huffed, his arms pinned to the side of his head. Frustration sparked to life in his chest. He sighed before drooping forward, trying to maintain his composure.

“What’s going on in there?” Dalia asked. “Do you require alone time contemplating these ninety girl bands?”

“No, Mark might, but not me,” Dax called out. “I’ll be done in a second.”

He tried to pull again; it didn’t budge. The frustration grew. He stood back up, reached down to grab the collar, and pulled. Its hold on him loosened while the shirt tore straight down the center. Dax grabbed the wrists of the long sleeves and pulled. After ripping the shirt off, he tossed it back on the bed.

“Forget this,” he grumbled.

Moving to the largest outfit, he grabbed the dark gray pants. Expecting them to be far too small, he stepped into them. He buttoned them, and they fit perfectly. Curiosity overtook the frustration. Dax grabbed the light sandy-brown long-sleeved shirt and slid it over his head. The fit was snug, but comfortable as well. A leather jacket sat at the head of the bed. He grabbed it and threw it around him. Each arm went into a sleeve; the leather draped around him.

A smile spread over his face; he nodded in approval while inspecting the jacket. A holster for a gun was added to the interior left side.

“That’ll work,” he said softly.

A bead of sweat rolled down his back, the heat trapped by his jacket caused him to start heating up already. He pulled the jacket off and slung it over his forearm before stepping back into his boots.

“I guess Goldilocks had it right. Next time, just start with your third option.”

Dax made his way to the door. It opened automatically for him. Dalia and Kane stood in front of him. He flashed them a smile and extended his arms to his side before giving them a spin.

“How do I look?” Dax asked.

“I like it,” Dalia exclaimed.

“Like the scoundrel we all are,” Kane replied.

“Thank you. Now, where’s Mark?” Dax asked.

“Where do you think?” Dalia replied.

Dax let out an exasperated sigh. He shook his head before approaching Dalia.

“What are the chances they’ve disemboweled him?”

“He’s not screaming, so I’m guessing he’s still alive, but that means he probably only has five more minutes before his big mouth makes that happen,” Kane replied.

A whimper rose from the overgrown ferns. They rustled before being pulled to the side. Sandrina walked into the camp, holding Mark’s ear. Tears filled the teen’s eyes. His teeth were clenched and he was sporting a bright red cheek.

“What’d you do?” Kane asked, crossing his arms.

“I couldn’t help it; they look so athletic,” Mark whimpered.

“He struck one of my girls in her hind quarters saying he’d bathe her with his tongue,” Sandrina growled.

“MARK!” Dax snarled, his parental anger flaring.

“They look like cats,” Mark replied.

Sandrina twisted his ear harder; he shouted in pain once more.

“Your mother would be disappointed,” Sandrina hissed.

“You’re right. She said I can look but not touch,” Mark replied, dropping to his knees.

“That is terrible parenting,” Dalia said softly.

“No, no,” Kane interjected, waving his finger. “You don’t even get to look. You’re on the ship, in your quarters while we finish this mission.”

“The only time you get to leave is to use the restroom, but that’s only with our permission first,” Dax added.

“Are you grounding me?” Mark asked.

“Yes,” Dax exclaimed. “You absolutely are grounded!”

“Unless you want Sandrina to dispense punishment in the manner of her people,” Kane chimed in.

“And what if I choose hers?” Mark asked.

Sandrina looked at Dalia. The Dal’no nodded.

“Then you are cut to prevent that kind of desire from creeping in again,” Sandrina replied, holding up one of her claw-like nails.

“I pick grounding,” Mark squealed.

Kane approached Mark and grabbed him by the collar. Sandrina released him while Kane pulled him back to his feet.

“For someone who claims to be so progressive, you certainly don’t seem to practice what you preach,” Kane snarled.

“You know us, we’re all hypocrites.”

“It’s about time you learn some accountability,” Kane countered.

The old man pulled Mark back into the woods and toward the ship. Sandrina looked at Dalia. The Dal’no let out a soft giggle.

“How’d I do?” Sandrina asked.

“Perfect,” Dalia exclaimed.

“How’d she do?” Dax asked, looking up at Dalia.

“She told me your youngest could get a little inappropriate and that your continued efforts to talk to him into correcting his behavior haven’t really been working,” Sandrina replied. “So, she fed us some lines for when he inevitably did something stupid.”

“I didn’t think it’d be this fast,” Dalia replied.

Dax let out a snicker before nodding in approval.

“Not quite the parenting technique I’d use, but if it gets the lesson across,” Dax said with a shrug before looking at Sandrina. “I’m not justifying his behavior, and I don’t know how it is with your race, but with ours, once you hit a certain age, hormonal changes start cropping up creating very powerful urges. Unfortunately, he’s been stuck in a small ship with two other men for the past three years and Dalia for a good portion of time.”

“You’re not going to call me muscle mommy like he does?” Dalia asked.

Dax shuddered. She let out a boisterous laugh and gave him a firm pat on the back. His body jolted forward from her powerful strikes, nearly knocking him off his feet. He coughed, slightly winded from the impact before looking back up at her.

“That makes me so uncomfortable,” he replied.

Dalia flashed her tusks playfully at him.

“I understand your concerns. You should know that for my people, during mating season, that kind of behavior has actually been encouraged since the Calamity that made us nearly go extinct,” Sandrina replied. “I was never a fan of it. Fortunately, I’ve aged out of it.”

“Are your people in mating season?” Dalia asked.

“No,” Sandrina replied. “Which explains the slap. He got lucky she didn’t use her claws.”

“What about this Calamity? Was it some sort of war or natural disaster?” Dax asked.

Sandrina scratched at her large, pointed ears while forcing a smile.

“It was something our people should’ve been able to predict. We were fast, smart and had heightened senses, but the armored beasts that burst from the ground caught us completely off guard. They chewed through our planet and our people until there was nothing left but a desert,” Sandrina explained, her ears drooped. “The attack happened globally at the same time. Only a handful of people managed to escape my world, leaving them and those who were already off planet the only survivors.”

A lump formed in Dax’s throat. He looked up at Dalia. Her face contorted into a frown.

“What did these things look like?” Dax asked, not taking his eyes off his Battle Bonded.

“It was before my time, but the stories tell of creatures the size of our shelters, striped yellow and black with claws strong enough to cut through steel and wings that hummed an abominable tune,” Sandrene explained.

“Did it have a stinger?” Dax asked.

“Some did, some didn’t, but it was said they could generate incredible amounts of heat from their wings, enough to kill groups of people at a time.”

“That sounds like a bumblebee,” Dax said, pursing his lips in thought.

“Bumblebee?” Dalia asked.

“It’s a bug from my world,” Dax replied.

Dalia’s eyes widened at the comment of bug.

“You think the Underbeasts are on different worlds?” she whispered in horror.

“You saw that video of our next stop.”

“What’s an Underbeast, and a bug?” Sandrina asked.

“They’re the same thing, only Underbeasts are much, much larger,” Dax replied.

“My world was once full of life. We were able to traverse the stars, though we didn’t do it much,” Dalia explained. “Then monsters erupted from the ground, practically at the same time all around the planet. They consumed everything until there was nothing left but sand as far as the eye could see.”

“What are the chances monsters like that developed on two separate worlds?” Sandrina asked.

The undergrowth started to rustle. Dax turned in the direction Kane left.

“Extremely small,” Dax replied. “That means the likelihood that one of my theories on Dal’no’nuuur was correct.”

“And that was?” Sandrina asked.

“That the bugs are weapons,” Kane called out, emerging in his suit with his helmet back and Dax’s armor in hand. “Suit up.”

Kane tossed the armor to Dax. He approached his suit, putting the jacket on, and started to don his gear.

“And that’s a big problem because that means genetic manipulation on an absolutely insane scale. Which is extremely difficult,” Dax explained.

Dalia motioned to the light pink, recently healed skin on his forearm.

“And who do we know that can manipulate genes?” she asked.

“Unless you want to spend eons doing research, you would need the resources of an empire to make those kinds of things,” Dax explained, pulling his breastplate in place.

“We don’t know that it’s the Valtukta,” Kane countered.

“Not without evidence. If we can get that, maybe we can take it to the galactic senate, if there is one, and bring that empire down,” Dax explained.

“That’ll never work,” Sandrina explained.

“Why not?” Dalia asked.

“Because the Valtukta are in control of the senate.”

Dax grabbed his helmet. He pulled it over his head and locked it in place. His hand moved to his holster; his magnetic gun was home. With his left hand, he felt a bump that wasn’t there previously. He looked down to see a second holster hastily attached, holding the Valtukta plasma pistol.

“It’s treason, then,” he said with his best Palpatine impression.

“Whatever it is, we’ve got another job to do; let’s get moving,” Kane cut in.

19

HUNTER

Dax, Dalia and Kane followed Sandrina through the woods for several hours. The catlike woman slashed the ferns out of the way with her claws. Any time they’d try to speak, Sandrina quieted them, informing them that the deeper into the forest they got, the larger and more aggressive the predators became.

Once the ferns started getting smaller, Dalia would stop periodically, completely blending into their surroundings. They reached the edge of the forest to see a village built up on the side of a mountain while trenches, spikes and primitive siege weapons were moved into position on the fields below.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Dax whispered.

“I know, right?” Kane replied. “I’d kill for a double cheeseburger right about now.”

“What? No, I’m thinking that’s probably how Minas Tirith got started.”

“Oh, I guess we weren’t thinking the same thing at all,” Kane countered.

“I was thinking about how if things go badly, we can just shoot some of the mountain and bring it down on the city,” Dalia chimed in.

“DALIA!” Dax exclaimed, his tone scolding.

“Talk about going for the jugular,” Kane countered. “No, after the double cheeseburger thought, I was thinking about how if things go badly, the only exfil we’ll have is the Junkyard and the person currently inside it is throwing a hissy fit.”

“I’m sure if you need him, you can call and he’ll come,” Sandrina replied, pointing at the fortified city. “That is where the gift of the gods is. It’ll be easy to find once you sneak into the city. The morning before every fight, they come out for terms. Dalia and I will make camp near the battle lines so we can meet the dignitaries when they meet to broker a peace.”

“Okay then, we’ll get the ball rolling,” Kane said, turning to approach the mountain inside the tree line. “You coming, Dax?”

He turned to Dalia; he gently tapped her forearm.

“Be careful out there.”

“You too, Battle Bonded,” Dalia replied.

A tinge of concern for her pulled at his heart. Dax slowly turned back toward Kane, jogging to his side and pointing ahead in the tree line.

“Ready when you are.”

Without a word, Kane started running. He kept two layers of trees between him and the open field. Dax moved closely behind. He glanced over his shoulder to see Sandrina and Dalia making their way toward the battle lines. Dax’s radio crackled to life.

“Can you hear me?” Dalia asked.

“O.G.R.E. 1, reading you loud and clear,” Kane replied.

“O.G.R.E. 2, reading you loud and clear,” Dax added.

“Mark, I know you can hear us,” Dalia called out after a few seconds of silence.

“O.G.R.E. 4, reading you loud and clear,” he huffed.

“Thank you, Mark,” Dalia said, a teasing tone in her voice.

“Why’d I have to get moved to O.G.R.E. 4?” Mark asked.

“We gave you a choice. On away missions, you could be on the ship or on the ground. Ground people get the lower numbers,” Kane replied.

“Is that something from your old Marine days?” Mark asked.

“Mark, I’m just as curious as you to know about that, but since we’re on a mission and still in the woods with who-knows-what, how about we keep radio silence unless absolutely necessary. How does that sound, bud?” Dax asked.

“Fine, radio silence,” Mark huffed.

Dax sped up. He moved side by side with Kane. Both men ducked under branches, dodged around trees, dipped under logs, and dove over gnarled roots protruding from the ground while dodging large insects that called the forest their home.

Reaching the foot of the mountain, Kane held up a fist while coming to a stop. Dax slowed next to him, swatting at one of the ping-pong ball-sized bugs.

“High oxygen world?” Kane asked, pointing at the bug.

“Higher oxygen, maybe, but we have bugs close to that size on Earth. It’s definitely not Dal’no’nuuur levels, though,” Dax replied.

“Are you sure? I’m not feeling fatigued at all, and that was a two-hour run.”

“Yes, but we’re also enhanced. Who knows what other things the Valtukta have done to us,” Dax replied.

“Well then, professor, what’s your educated guess?”

“Mine would be the healing factor,” Dax explained. “Even with cells being reverted back to stem cells at the site of an injury for full recovery, it shouldn’t be as fast as it is. They’ve had to have amplified it somehow, my guess; that amplification either prevents, or greatly slows the build up of lactic acid in our muscles. I can tell you right now, that run, even on Dal’no’nuuur, would’ve given me a stitch so bad, I’d faceplant.”

“Good to…” Kane trailed off.

He sniffed at the air.

“What?” Dax’s voice dropped to a whisper.

“We’ve been in this forest for eight hours and I’ve never smelt that. Take your helmet off,” Kane replied just as quietly.

Dax retracted his helmet. He sniffed the air, only to be met with the familiar, musty, yet delicate scent of the forest.

“I don’t smell anything,” Dax whispered.

“Maybe they didn’t get to you yet, then. It smells like wet…”

A muffled crack of a branch deep in the forest made both men fall silent. A chill ran down Dax’s spine. His hand moved straight for the plasma gun. Kane grabbed his hand.

“That strobes a bright purple light. You’ll let everyone know we’re here, along with likely burning down the forest. Remember the words of Smokey the Bear.”

Dax removed his hand from his plasma weapon before reaching for his knife. It wasn’t there.

“Dangit, I knew I should’ve made sure Mark put it back on my suit,” he huffed.

Kane pulled the magnetic gun and raised it.

“We move in together. You watch right, I watch left. Let’s not get eaten today,” Kane said.

Dax pulled his magnetic gun as well.

“Sounds like a fine suggestion,” Dax replied.

Dax’s hand gripped his gun tightly as his eyes darted around the forest’s undergrowth. A hint of adrenaline started to pulse through his body with each heartbeat when another branch snap sounded. The colors of the forest flared to unnatural levels with each breath he took.

“Are you seeing this?” Kane asked.

“I certainly am. It’s not a hallucinogen in the air. Colors were like this on that Valtukta ship,” Dax whispered back.

He held back the information about when they became more active around Dalia. Another snap sounded to their right. Both men spun on the balls of their feet. Dax’s eyes narrowed. He forced his breathing to be slow and steady. Every sense heightened. Each rustle of the leaves and gust of the wind felt as if it flowed through his very bones.

“Movement,” Kane whispered.

“Copy, how big?” Dax asked.

“Not sure, thing’s real fast.”

“Is the smell getting stronger?”

“It is,” Kane replied.

“What do we do if it’s a pack?” Dax asked.

“Prayer and our legs.”

Dax’s gut screamed for him to close his helmet. In the blink of an eye, it snapped shut around his head, pulling his hair. He ignored the pain while turning and slapping the bracer on Kane’s suit.

Kane’s helmet snapped shut while a flash of white caught Dax’s attention. He yanked on the older man, throwing him to the ground. A set of vise-like jaws clamped around Dax’s torso. The world spun violently while damage indicators started to flash on Dax’s HUD.

Dax started blindly punching while trying to recenter himself. Swinging with all his might, even in his armor, it felt like he was punching a shag carpet. Recentering himself, he braced his body against the mouth holding him, only to be greeted by a golden eye with a thin vertical slit the size of a softball.

“Kane, get ready to shoot me,” Dax shouted.

“What?” Kane called back.

“Don’t ask, just shoot me, now.”

Dax raised his bracer to the eye. He tapped on the tracker nodes implanted in his suit. It sprang out of Dax’s armor; small metal arms shot out of its base to anchor itself before hitting the beast in the center of its eye.

A yelp rose from its throat. For a split second, Dax felt its jaws loosen around him. In that blink of an eye, a magnetic wave struck him, throwing him out of the beast’s mouth.

The crack of wood echoed through his armor. His body shuddered from the impact on his shoulder blades, sending a jolt of pain rippling through him. The impact spun his upper body before he collided with the ground.

Dax pushed the pain out of his mind and used the momentum to roll to the side. Heavy thumps of paws impacted the ground near him. Before he could plant his hands to push himself up, Kane grabbed him by the elbow and hoisted him onto his feet, his mag pistol shoved into his chest.

“What was that thing?” Dax asked, trying to re-orient himself.

“It looked like a mix between a wolf and a bear, and twice the size of the latter,” Kane replied. “How’d you get it to let you go?”

A deep roar shook the forest. Dax shifted his weapon to attract.

“I hit it in the eye with a tracker,” Dax replied.

“At that thing’s size, that’s the only place you’re going to hit that’ll do damage.”

Dax lifted his pistol and squeezed the trigger. He slowly dragged it across the forest in front of them.

“That’s a good idea,” Kane whispered.

“Thank you, and I’m pretty sure my spine broke something. You want to get a big ol’ stick and whittle it to a point?” Dax asked.

Kane lowered his weapon and disappeared from Dax’s peripheral vision. A second later, he returned with a branch the size of Dax’s forearm, broken to a sharp end.

“If you can’t pierce its hide, make it pierce its own hide,” Kane said, positioning himself close to Dax.

“That is the plan,” Dax replied.

He continued to sweep his magnet gun across their field of view. He felt a slight pull directly at his left. Dax’s finger released the trigger.

“It looks like it likes to attack from the left,” Dax whispered. “It’s approaching on my side this time. I’m going to recover my tracker then jump backward. You get that thing pointed at its face and bury the other end into the ground.”

“Copy that,” Kane whispered. “Ready when you are.”

Dax took a deep breath. Adrenaline surged through his body. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the beast move through the undergrowth. Even at his full height, Dax barely reached the top of its shoulders.

He raised the pistol and squeezed the trigger once more. Another yelp filled the air accompanied shortly after by a roar. Dax jumped backward when the thundering of table-sized paws rumbled across the ground.

Landing on his feet, he jumped back once more. Kane turned toward the beast, the broken branch pointed at its face before getting as low to the ground as he could. The monster opened its mouth to bite Kane the same way it bit Dax.

A whimper left its throat. In a spurt of red, the stick punched through the back of its neck. The beast fell limp. Its momentum carried it into Kane, burying him under its gargantuan form.

Dax grabbed his tracker and placed it in his bracer. Holstering the magnetic pistol, he rushed toward the creature’s body to see only Kane’s hand under the animal’s massive form.

“Kane?” Dax called out. “Kane, if you’re dead, give me a thumbs-up.”

Dax watched the limp metal hand slowly form into a ball before raising a single finger.

“Well, that’s just rude,” Dax muttered. “Let’s get you unstuck.”

20

INGRESS

Burying his shoulder into the creature, Dax dug his toes into the ground and pushed as hard as he could. Kane used his free hand to help. Dax’s suit locked into place after each step to stop him from moving backward.

The mound of fur, muscle and fat slowly started to roll. Dax drove himself forward. Once on its shoulder, the beast’s weight carried it and it rolled onto its back. He turned to see Kane sitting up and withdrawing his helmet. The mustachioed man coughed. It slowly morphed into a chuckle.

“Did we just caveman kill a wolf bear?” Kane asked.

Dax walked over to the former soldier and gave him a hand up.

“That we did, and fortunately, ooga didn’t get booga’ed,” Dax replied, inspecting Kane’s armor. “Your suit looks like it’s still in one piece.”

“It is. I don’t think twenty-five-hundred pounds of compressive force is going to get through this,” he replied, tapping his armor. “How’s yours?”

Dax looked down. There were scuffs and nearly imperceptible dents where its teeth clamped down on him.

“I think I’m good too. I didn’t get any critical failure warnings.”

Kane turned toward the dead creature. A sadness filled his eyes while his shoulders dropped.

“Such a waste. An animal kill should always have every piece of it used.”

“What if we move it to the forest edge and have Mark stop here so we can load it up before we leave. We can always clean it later,” Dax suggested.

“That’ll take time away from our mission.”

“Yes, but we can make it up; we’re fast,” Dax replied. “And I’m right there with you. An animal shouldn’t just go to waste, it’s disrespectful to the creature and even nature itself.”

Kane’s brow furrowed. He scoffed as he looked Dax up and down.

“Professor, I didn’t think you’d have such an enlightened view on dead animals.”

Dax moved toward the branch. He grabbed it and yanked it free from the animal before grabbing its oversized paw and starting to pull. Kane quickly joined, sliding the beast across the forest floor.

“What did you expect?” Dax asked.

“I don’t know, some sniveling comeback about how we should’ve just let it live and found a way to exist harmoniously together,” Kane teased.

Dax continued to pull while looking at Kane in confusion. He pursed his lips for a few seconds before giving a yank that helped the body over a small fallen tree.

“You did see what I did to those bugs, right? And then to Znanstvenk Henuva. And you’re surprised I’m not whining over the death of a wolf bear that tried to eat me?” Dax asked.

“Eh, the bugs are bugs, I get those,” Kane countered with a shrug. “And Henuva…while it was a bit extreme, I can’t say I wouldn’t have done something similar to get one of you guys back either. But this thing was just trying to get a meal to survive.”

“A bit extreme?” Dax scoffed. “I crossed a line so badly that it’s practically a dot. I, admittedly, feel a little bit guilty about it. I’m sure if I remembered what they did exactly, I wouldn’t, but this thing was just trying to live, not completely wipe out a world or toy with our genetics.”

“You’re telling me you suppressed the experiments?” Kane asked.

“That I did,” Dax replied.

“Good.”

“Why?”

“If you dammed those memories up, don’t scratch at it. Just keep pressing forward. Trust me, you don’t want to remember,” Kane said.

Both men released the beast. Its limbs landed with a hard thud at the edge of the woods. The last vestiges of the sun’s rays faded from the sky. A single full moon loomed low over them, providing enough pale light to illuminate the mountain they were near.

“That was kind of the plan,” Dax replied. “I know it’s probably not the healthiest approach…”

“No, it’s not,” Kane countered with a chuckle.

“But I also don’t feel like breaking down in a series of spiraling panic attacks until I’m a blubbering mess on the floor,” Dax replied. “You know, conceal, don’t feel, don’t let it show.”

“Smart move for now,” Kane said, turning toward the mountain. “But if the time ever comes, you can always talk to me.”

“I appreciate the offer,” Dax replied.

He followed Kane to the mountain where both men started their ascent. They climbed until they were above the defensive wall of the city where they turned around and looked at their target.

Thousands of lights from campfires and torches danced across the field below the city. The stronghold itself shone brightly in the night as well. Both forces seemed to try and outdo one another with light as an intimidation factor.

“What are the chances that if the fight doesn’t happen day after tomorrow, and if they keep this up, they burn down the entire valley?” Dax asked.

“Somewhere close to a hundred,” Kane replied.

“Great, so they go extinct either way,” Dax said.

“Unless we give them something to unite about.”

“If negotiations fail, we could steal the gift of the gods, let both sides see it, then run away,” Kane explained. “They’d hate us, unite against us and since they’re not space-faring, we’ll all be dead before they have a chance to leave the planet.”

Dax started to hike toward the city with Kane at his side. They stuck to the shadows of looming boulders as much as they could while staying as low to the ground as possible.

“Is defiling religious iconography becoming your thing?” Dax asked.

“I’m an O.G.R.E. for a reason. If it serves the greater good, may as well lean into it,” Kane replied.

Dax stifled a laugh.

“If you’ve got a schtick, may as well, I guess.”

They continued to press forward in silence for several hours. They moved quickly and quietly over the stones. Even in their armor, with their enhancements, both men were able to control themselves enough that the clanking was minimal.

With the city less than a mile away, the star-speckled sky starting to fade and the horizon beginning to glow with the morning sun, both men found a small inlet in the side of the mountain for them to hide.

Taking up residence inside, they sat for several more hours. The sun quickly flooded the valley below. From their position, it was hard to make out anything on the potential field of battle below. Dalia was the only easily identifiable one as the emissaries from both sides walked out of their encampments to treat with one another.

“I’ve got a quick question for you,” Dax whispered. “If you don’t want to answer it, I’ll understand.”

“It depends. How personal are we getting, and will you answer a question for me?” Kane asked.

“Fairly personal, and that’ll be a fair trade.”

“Good, then fire away.”

“You were a Marine, were you not?” Dax asked.

“Not very personal, but yeah, why?” Kane asked.

“I’ve heard the saying, once a Marine, always a Marine. If that’s the case, why don’t you refer to yourself as a Marine, ever?”

Kane smirked. He looked at the ground and nodded. His eyes darted from left to right as he mulled over what to say. Dax remained silent, not wanting to distract the former soldier from selecting the exact words he was looking for.

“It’s because of my brothers,” Kane replied.

“I didn’t know you had siblings.”

“Not literal brothers, brothers in arms. If you’re discharged, honorably or not, they still call you a Marine. If you’re dishonorably discharged for a crime on the level of what I was charged with, they distance themselves. They disown you. They stop calling you brother, Marine…” Kane trailed off for a few seconds.

He picked up a rock and tossed it back to the ground. After taking a deep breath, he shrugged.

“If I’m not a Marine in the eyes of my brothers, why would I be a Marine in mine?”

“Because you still have the skill, the drive, the discipline. Like you said yourself, your body was forged to be a warrior, just like a sword is forged to be a sword. Just because it’s not used in an army anymore doesn’t make it any less of a sword, does it? It’s still sharp, it can still function for its purpose. It’s just not part of its old group.”

“Never thought of it like that,” Kane said with a scoff.

“You were forged to be what you are. Nothing and no one can take that away from you. If anything, in our current predicament, it actually makes you far cooler than every other Marine on the Earth,” Dax explained.

“How do you figure that?”

“You’re the first ever space Marine. And that’s a pretty awesome title.”

A smile crept across Kane’s wizened face. The edges of his curled mustache twitched slightly as he nodded.

“I like the sound of that,” he said softly. “If that’s the case, then it’s my job to create more.”

Dax’s stomach dropped.

“Oh no,” he muttered.

“I’ll start training you, Mark and Dalia as soon as we’re back on the Junkyard. You, too, will be space Marines in time.”

“You know how people tend to ask teachers what they hate most about their jobs?” Dax asked.

“Yes.”

“Inspiring someone to the point that they want to completely overhaul your life just made top of the list.”

“It’ll be fun,” Kane teased.

“You and I have a very different concept of fun.”

“Which brings me to my question,” Kane said, picking up and tossing down another rock.

“Fire away. It’s only fair, although now, I’m a little nervous about what you’re going to ask,” Dax replied.

“What you said, to the man who mutilated us. Did you mean it?” Kane asked.

Dax nodded.

“May I ask what possessed you to do that?” Kane asked.

Dax scoffed in disbelief. He looked up at the former soldier and shook his head. He tossed a rock at Kane’s feet, missing them intentionally.

“That’s how I know you didn’t have children,” Dax replied. “If you did, you’d know the answer to that question.”

“What do you mean?” Kane asked.

“When you have kids, there’s a switch in you that flips. You become more loving, more caring, more generous,” Dax said, a knot slowly forming in his throat as his eyes started to sting and vision blurred. “Like a light casting a shadow, your love for your children causes everything good about you to burn brighter than you could even imagine. It also makes that shadow it casts to be even darker.”

Dax scoffed, tossing another rock.

“Think of the most vicious warriors you ever fought alongside. How many of them were fathers?”

Dax watched Kane mull the question over for a few seconds. Once the former soldier’s eyes widened in realization, Dax pointed at him.

“Exactly. There’s a popular saying that good men use. It’s never truer than for those who have a child. For those I love, I will do great and terrible things,” Dax explained.

“Emphasis on the terrible part,” Kane said.

“Only if they’re standing between me and my loved one,” Dax explained.

“So, I guess that means you must love Dalia quite a bit,” Kane teased.

Dax shot him a playful look before bouncing a pebble off his helmet’s faceplate.

21

INFILTRATION

Dax and Kane watched in silence as Dalia and Sandrina conducted the negotiation. Something in Dax’s gut told him it wasn’t going to end well. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was and despite hardly being able to see that far, his stomach twisted into knots.

“Come on,” Kane whispered, tapping Dax’s shin plate. “We need to get going.”

“It’s probably not even three o’clock yet,” Dax replied.

“Yes, but something down there’s not right. This isn’t going to go the way Dalia wants it to,” Kane replied.

“How can you tell?” Dax asked.

Curiosity flooded him while he stood up as well.

“Call it a soldier’s intuition, a gut instinct, or what is it that Mark says, Spidey Sense? This is a powder keg and I want us to be as far away from it as possible when it goes off.”

Kane snuck out of the cave. He lay on the ground and started to crawl over the rocks.

“Stay as low as you can; we don’t want the sun reflecting off our suits,” Kane ordered.

Following the more experienced man’s orders, Dax lay on his stomach and inched his way out of their hiding spot. He crawled right behind Kane, moving exactly how the former soldier moved.

“You’re not just being a pessimist?” Dax asked. “This feeling is real?”

“Queen Maker, Black Knight Satellite, deployment,” Kane replied.

“What?”

“Queen Maker, Black Knight Satellite, deployment,” Kane echoed. “Those were the last three times I got this feeling. It’s something you need to listen to.”

“So, it’s not an enhancement,” Dax muttered to himself.

“It is not. Your brain’s a powerful device. It can pick up threats you’re not consciously aware of. That’s where your gut comes into play,” Kane explained. “It’s your subconscious’ way of informing you of a threat.”

Kane paused. His head tilted to one side before he looked back at Dax.

“Why are you asking?”

“I had a similar feeling,” Dax explained. “I just wasn’t sure if it was nerves or not.”

“It’s not nerves, and if you’re getting that feeling too, it means we both picked up on the same thing. Keep low, keep moving and keep listening to your gut!”

Kane turned back forward and continued to crawl. Dax followed closely behind. The city ahead grew closer inch by inch while the sun fell behind them. Over the hours of crawling, a thick layer of dust settled on their suits, muting their reflective nature.

Dax stopped three times to clear his visor. He glanced to the fields below every few yards. Dalia and Sandrina were still with both emissaries amid negotiations. The former professor shook his head. Kane stopped and lay down in front of him, getting as flat as he could get.

“What are you doing?” Dax asked.

“We’re fifty yards from the wall. Under cover of night, we can make that in a few seconds,” Kane explained. “We stop and lie here until it gets dark enough for us to not be noticed.”

Dax mimicked Kane’s positioning. He kept his eyes on the meeting in the field’s center. His joints stiffened and his muscles started to itch from intentionally not moving. He kept himself motionless, fighting every urge that screamed for him to move. With the valley starting to get dark, the group broke away. Each emissary returned to their lines while Dalia and Sandrina moved to their encampment away from either group.

“You guys there?” Dalia asked, her voice crackling over the radio.

“We are,” Kane replied.

“It didn’t go well,” Dalia replied. “Neither will relinquish their claim to the gift under any circumstances.”

“And we tried everything we could think of,” Sandrina added, her voice far away.

“Well, there’s one thing I can guarantee you guys didn’t try,” Dax said, repositioning himself. “Kane came up with the idea of, if they won’t stop fighting each other, give them a singular enemy to unite against.”

“How are you going to do that?” Dalia asked. “They won’t agree on anything.”

“They do agree on the gift, though,” Dax explained. “We take the gift, they unite against us, we get off world, the infighting stops, Sandrina and her people can leave the planet and the blockade will likely end.”

“You’re going to defile a holy relic to get them to cooperate?” Sandrina asked.

“It’s sort of Kane’s thing,” Dalia replied.

“It’s not my thing,” Kane interjected.

“It sort of is,” Mark cut in. “Turns out this staff you told me to grab is a religious artifact too. I think I’ve figured out how to piece it back together.”

“But I’m not the one who blew it in half,” Kane countered.

“Face it, you’re Kane, First of the O.G.R.E.s, Defiler of Religious Reliquaries and the clipper of wings,” Mark teased.

“We can’t steal a religious icon,” Dalia countered.

“That’s what I was thinking,” Dax added.

“Yeah, but if it stops the extinction of a species and galvanizes them to work together, I can kind of see how that’s a good idea,” Sandrina chimed in.

“The mission is what it is. Mark, get the Junkyard started. Once things kick off, we’re going to need a quick evac,” Kane ordered.

“Does this mean I’m no longer grounded?” Mark asked. “Because I can’t fly this ship from the confines of my room.”

“You’re still grounded,” Kane countered.

“How about we lessen the grounding,” Dax started.

“No, he needs to learn that he can’t just go around and grab women,” Kane snapped in a sharp whisper.

“Just hear me out. He can leave his room, but on the next world, he has to stay on the ship,” Dax negotiation.

“You can’t R2D2 me,” Mark hissed. “You’re not my mom and dad.”

“I accept your terms,” Kane relented after a few moments of silence. “And I don’t want to be the mom in this scenario. You have to be the mother.”

“Thank you. Now, Mark, get the ship going. You’re ungrounded from your room, but you’ve been R2D2’ed,” Dax explained. “And I am not your mother.”

“What does that mean? Who is this R2 of D2?” Dalia asked.

“It means he has to stay with the ship,” Dax replied.

“Let’s go radio silence; we’re moving in,” Kane grumbled.

Kane moved forward. He crouched and shuffled forward toward the large wooden walls. Dax climbed to his feet and followed closely behind. Each step was slow and deliberate, not making any noise.

Once they reached the walls, they stood up, their backs to the lumber. Dax watched Kane remove his helmet. The former Marine tilted his head and closed his eyes, listening to their surroundings.

Dax retracted his helmet. The scent of burning wood filled his nostrils. Muffled shouts rose from beyond the wall. Dax turned to face it. He grabbed the space between two logs and gripped. The wood cracked. Kane’s hand quickly gripped his, stopping him.

“Get out of the armor,” he whispered.

“We won’t have any protection,” Dax countered.

“It’ll be too loud. We won’t need protection if we’re successful at stealth,” Kane countered.

“And what if my kind of stealth is heavy stealth?” Dax asked.

“That’s not a thing!”

“No one can see you if there are no witnesses,” Dax countered. “Oh, wait.”

“Did you just realize we’re trying not to kill every single one of them?” Kane asked.

“Yeah.”

Dax unbuckled his suit. Once open, he stepped out and leaned it against the wall. He grabbed the magnetic gun while placing the plasma pistol in his jacket’s holster. Kane stepped out of his suit as well. He placed his fingers between the logs. Pulling on them, he started to inch his way up.

Dax followed suit, climbing the wall inch by inch beside Kane. Once at the top of the wall, they grabbed the edge between the spiked upper edges. Dax slowly pulled himself up, his heart starting to race while he focused on controlling his breathing. He pulled himself up and peered between the spikes of the parapets.

“What do you see?” Kane whispered.

A being with a long, hooked nose and a fleshy beard flailing across his chest. Thick, crude armor covered him from head to toe. He rushed toward the muffled shouting.

“To the center,” a woman called out.

Dax followed the voice to see a short, stocky woman with long, fleshy tendrils hanging from her head. She jumped off the inner walking path and landed on the ground twenty feet below. She marched behind several sturdy wood buildings, disappearing around a corner. Several masculine-looking aliens made for the same direction.

“What do you see?” Kane repeated.

“It looks like they’re starting their war speech,” Dax replied. “It looks like all of them are going toward the front gate. We should probably still assume there are a handful of guards though.”

“That’s what I was going to say. Is it clear?”

Dax pulled himself up, peering between the spikes to see the entire back wall was undefended. He quickly pulled himself over and landed silently on the pathway. Leaning over, he grabbed Kane’s hand and pulled him over the wall as well.

Dax glanced at his hands; several splinters protruded from his skin. He pulled them out one by one before tossing them to the ground, causing each site to start stinging. Kane quickly did the same. Both men rushed to the nearest, darkest corner of the outer walls and crouched in the shadows.

“Where do you think it is?” Kane asked.

Dax scanned the small city below. He counted four guards on patrol while the rest of the people rushed toward the commotion at the front gate. In the center of the city stood a wood building with thicker-looking walls than the rest. It was surrounded by streets with no other structures attached to it. Its door sported heavy metal straps across it and a lock the size of his head.

“That’s where I’d hold my holy relic,” Dax whispered.

Kane pulled his magnetic gun from his pocket and slid past Dax. Following his lead, they made it to a nearby building. Kane was the first to jump. He came down on the slanted log roof with silence and grace.

Dax followed. Landing, his foot slipped. His heart lurched into his throat. Before he hit the roof, Kane grabbed the collar of his jacket and yanked Dax back to his feet. The former professor flashed him a nervous smile.

“Seriously?” Kane whispered.

“I’m not a cat, or highly trained war vet. I’m a convicted linguistics professor,” Dax countered. “If you wanted a cat, you should’ve brought Sandrina with you.”

“I’m fairly certain Mark would call that racist,” Kane replied. “Speciesist at the very least. Is that even a word?”

“And that’s why he’s been R2D2’ed, among other things,” Dax added.

Both men quickly moved to the edge of the building. They jumped onto the next roof. Dax kept his footing. He glanced around, surprised there weren’t any guards on the outer wall.

They reached the edge of the second building. Kane slid to a stop, grabbed Dax’s collar and pushed him several steps back. With wide eyes, he held Dax’s gaze and placed a finger to his lips before motioning toward the ground. The crunch of boots on stone and clatter of armor echoed gently through the streets, with shouting in the background.

Once the steps faded, Kane poked his head back over the edge. He gave a thumbs-up before jumping and landing without a sound. Dax inched his way toward the edge and looked down. He took a sharp breath while a tingling sensation permeated through him. Kane waved for him to jump.

Against his better judgment, Dax made the leap. He landed on the balls of his feet expecting a bolt of pain and pins and needles. He hardly felt the impact; the jarring on his knee, hip and spine were nonexistent. A wide smile spread across his face as he and Kane slunk to the door of the middle building.

“I was fully expecting to blow out something,” Dax whispered.

“I guess those upgrades aren’t all bad,” Kane replied.

He lifted his magnetic gun. Dax grabbed the wooden handle and held it tight. With a squeeze of the trigger, Kane broke the door’s lock with minimal noise. The door jerked inward; Dax held it in place.

Both men quickly entered the building. Dax quietly shut the door behind him. The smell of burning lard filled his nostrils. He quickly turned to find the source of what smelled like bacon. His heart quickly sank. In the center of four pillars, each with a burning torch, sat a muted black cylinder the size of a suitcase.

In the center of the cylinder, facing the door, was branded a golden emblem. A hexagon with its top and bottom split by an angled S-looking symbol in the center. In the middle, the S swirled, leaving an opening for a golden dot.

“Well, that’s a problem,” Dax muttered.

22

RETREAT

Dax inspected the device closely. The swell of war chants grew from outside of the temple. He found a seam along the front of the device for what looked like a sliding door. Unable to find a way to open it, he grabbed the cylinder and slung it over one shoulder.

“We don’t have time to figure this out,” he huffed, turning to Kane. “If they get too riled up, our little uniting plan may not work.”

“Are you thinking go out there, show it to them and run?” Kane asked.

“More like sneak out, get back in our armor, blast the gate open, show them, run, wave it around so the other group becomes aware of what we’re doing and then get picked up,” Dax replied.

“That’s a little convoluted, especially since it’s dark.”

“And that’s why we’re going to have our suit lights on, so everyone can see us.”

“This is a horrible plan.”

“Hey, I never said it was good.”

“Your recklessness has paid off so far. May as well keep going,” Kane relented.

Both men made their way back to the door. Kane put his ear to the barrier for a few seconds before holding up a thumb. He opened the door. One of the guards, no taller than three and a half feet, even fully armored, stood in front of the door, inspecting the damaged lock. He looked up. His small, dark, beady eyes took in Kane.

The guard let out a squeal of surprise. Dax grimaced at the sloshing beard and hair of flesh that swayed from his half jump back. The former professor let out a squeal of his own. The guard looked at Dax and let out a second one.

Kane’s fist slammed into the side of the guard’s helmet. His head snapped to one side, causing the guard to fall to the ground unconscious. Kane quickly grabbed the man’s axe and pulled him inside the temple. He felt the short alien’s neck, causing Dax’s stomach to turn.

“Does that feel…” Dax started.

“Like loose skin?” Kane interrupted. “Yes, it does, and it’s got some buildup on it too,” Kane interrupted.

He pulled his hand free; it was covered in sweat and some form of yellowish buildup. With a grimace, he wiped his hand clean on the unconscious guard.

“At least he’s still alive. Let’s get going.”

Kane rushed to the outer wall. Dax silently shut the door behind him and followed. Each step was as silent as he could make it. His ears locked on the growing chanting from the front of the city while their surprisingly light holy relic bounced on his shoulder.

They reached a ladder that led to the walkway they’d previously used. Kane leaped over halfway up before grabbing a rung and quickly finishing the ascent. He spun around and looked down at Dax, waving for him to throw the relic.

Without a word, Dax held it like a shot-put and launched it into the air. The cylinder flew over Kane’s head. He put his arms out. It dropped harmlessly into them. Restraining himself, he shoved off the ground as well. Dax’s stomach dropped as he launched himself almost all the way up the ladder.

Dax caught the rung second from the top. He quickly joined Kane, only to hear a shout of alarm from the streets below. One of the circling guards looked up at them, pointing his axe their way.

“INTRUDERS!” the guard shouted. “THEY HAVE THE GIFT!”

“You threw it too high,” Kane muttered.

“I threw it too high,” Dax echoed, offering him a wave. “High, nice to meet you.”

He leaned down and kicked the support strut to the ladder as hard as he could. The wood splintered with ease, destroying the ladder.

“Run?” Dax asked.

The roar that’d slowly grown near the gate erupted into an unholy scream. Dax and Kane turned and sprinted toward the rear of the city. A wave of fleshy slapping filled the air from the charging natives.

“That’s such a gross noise,” Dax shouted.

“It’s better than them crushing our bones,” Kane countered. “Sounds like a walrus slapping his belly. Jump!”

Reaching the back of the city, both men jumped over the spiked wall. They hit the stony ground. A sharp pain surged through Dax’s ankle from landing on it wrong. Gritting his teeth, he turned back to his armor and limped toward it, pushing the radiating pain from his mind.

He pulled the plasma pistol out of his jacket and holstered both weapons into his suit before quickly he quickly stepped in, followed closely by Kane. Both men pulled their armor up around them in the blink of an eye from years of practice. They locked their helmets in place. As soon as Dax did, he heard a metallic impact on the top of his head. A broken arrow fell to the ground in front of him.

“You know, there are three things that every culture develops independently from one another,” Dax said as an arrow bounced off Kane’s armor. “Smithing, fried dough and fermentation. Do you know what that means?”

Ropes fell from the top of the wall, dangling near them. Kane picked up the relic and rushed toward the edge of the city. Dax quickly limped behind him.

“No, what?” Kane asked.

“Everyone has an urge to kill something then eat a donut and drink a beer afterward.”

“Let’s hope they don’t eat donuts and drink beers to us,” Kane countered.

Arrows rained down around them.

“We’ve got the relic,” Dax called out over the radio.

“A little busy,” Dalia shouted.

“Mark, get the Junkyard moving, now,” Kane barked.

“Already on it,” Mark replied.

They reached the front of the city. Torches from the lower army closed in on Dalia and Sandrina’s position. Dax’s stomach knotted at the sight while his chest tightened.

“They’re attacking Dalia,” Dax shouted.

“They don’t know we stole the relic,” Kane explained. “We get down there, we can draw the heat.”

The city’s gate slammed open. Dax’s mind rushed a thousand miles an hour, forming an insane plan. He drew his plasma gun and fired straight across the valley. The projectiles flew for hundreds of yards before completely disappearing, but his shots drew everyone’s attention. He holstered his weapon before turning to Kane.

“Only one way down there fast,” he said.

Dax grabbed the relic, turned his suit’s lights on, and hugged it as tightly to his body as he could. Getting a running start, he jumped, turned his body sideways and landed on the steep mountainside. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, letting gravity do its thing. He bounced and rolled violently.

Keep your legs together, don’t let go of the cylinder! Please don’t snap anything, please don’t snap anything! he thought to himself, realizing halfway down how dumb of an idea this was.

A scream of exhilaration and terror rose from him while bouncing down the stoney mountainside. He gradually slowed until coming to a stop. Dax let go of the cylinder and pushed off the ground. The world spun violently around him. He staggered to the side, focusing on a rock in front of him until he was just dizzy enough to stand.

He looked back to see Kane halfway down the mountain, running at full speed with a literal small army close behind him. Dax quickly picked up the relic and rushed on unsteady footing into the valley. He held the relic in front of him, wobbling with each quick step.

“I’ve got the gift of your gods,” he shouted as loud as he could. “Come and get me.”

He moved the relic to above his head while screaming it again. The distant torches closing in on Dalia’s position started to move toward him.

“I think you got their attention. Let’s run,” Kane shouted.

Dax shook his head, regaining his balance, he turned to see Kane a few steps behind him. Without missing a beat, he started to run, the pain in his ankle was gone.

“Mark, we’re intentionally separating ourselves from Dalia. Pick her and Sandrina up first, then come get us,” Dax ordered.

“Just follow the angry mob and you’ll find us in front of it,” Kane added.

“Copy that,” Mark replied.

“Dalia, are they moving away from you?” Dax asked.

“Affirmative,” she replied breathlessly. “Your little stunt enraged them and they’re following you now.”

“Are you safe where you’re at?” Kane asked.

“We don’t have the relic,” Dalia panted. “They aren’t paying us any mind.”

“Good,” Dax shouted.

He hopped over a rock and continued to run. He glanced behind them. Both factions formed into one massive mob, falling away.

“Slow down,” Dax shouted. “We don’t want to lose them.”

Both men slowed from an all-out sprint to a light jog. Arrows thudded into the ground behind them. Kane held the cylinder in front of him. Both men glanced at each other.

“Do you still think this was a good idea?” Dax asked.

“I’m beginning to have my doubts.”

“That’s what I figured. What are the chances Mark gets here before we hit the forest?”

In the distance, the bright glow of starship engines pierced the veil of night.

“I think it’ll be about a tie,” Kane said.

An arrow broke against Dax’s back. He sped up slightly to keep ahead of the projectiles raining down around them. Both men kept their pace, Dax periodically glancing at Dalia’s campfire. No other torches were in their vicinity. The Junkyard landed near the camp.

“Got the ladies, coming for you,” Mark called out.

The ship lifted off the ground, turned and started back toward Kane and Dax. They reached the woods. Dax’s flashlights illuminated the wolf bear corpse. He rushed in, grabbed it and dragged the body out of the tree cover.

Shouts of the natives grew louder. The gap between them rapidly closed while arrows started to hit the ground near Dax and Kane once again. The Junkyard’s engines roared while the ship spun, landing between the natives and the tree line. Kane threw the cylinder into the ship. Mark leaned the vessel to get the door close to the ground.

“Help me get it in,” Dax shouted.

“We have bigger things to worry about,” Kane countered while moving to Dax’s side.

Both men hoisted the beast onto their shoulders. They tossed the upper half in before jumping into the ship themselves. Once safely inside, Mark pulled up. Arrows clanked off the hull while Dax and Kane yanked the rest of the animal’s corpse into the vessel.

Once inside, Dax moved to the door. He looked outside to see both tribes united in screaming at them while they vanished into the darkness below. Ship lights shone brightly where Sandrina’s crew set up camp. Dax grabbed the door, slammed it closed and locked it.

“Well, that was close,” Dax chuckled.

He turned around to see Kane’s pale face. He looked at Sandrina and Dalia. The Dal’no lay face down, her armor stripped from her and piled messily next to her. Both lay on the ship’s floor. A dozen arrows protruded from her back, blood pouring from each wound.

23

TRIAGE

Dax’s ears rang. Kane and Sandrina seemed to move in slow motion around Dalia’s still body. The catlike woman pointed at Dax and shouted something. Her voice was muffled from the attempt to process what he was seeing.

A cup, thrown by Mark, smacked Dax in the side of the head. It snapped his attention back to the situation at hand. Panic numbed the impact site. He rushed toward Dalia’s side. Sandrina shoved him away.

“Get me your triage kit and a knife,” the blue-skinned woman screamed.

“There’s one in my quarters at the foot of my bed,” Kane barked.

Dax scrambled back to his feet and rushed to Kane’s room while the familiar rattle of their ship accelerating into outer space filled the void. He burst through Kane’s door; its rusted hinges snapped, sending the door to the ground.

Dax ignored the immaculate room and grabbed the large bag at the foot of Kane’s bed. He returned to the main deck and handed it to Kane.

“Mark, where’s my knife?” Dax asked.

The sky in front of them shifted blue for a few seconds before fading back to black. With one hand on the controls and his head faced forward, Mark pulled Dax’s sheathed knife from his lap and tossed it backward. Dax caught it, unsheathed it and started toward the restroom.

“I’ll sanitize it,” Kane barked.

Dax spun the weapon around and handed the weapon to Kane. He quickly wiped it down with an alcohol rag.

“Do we know what these arrowheads look like?” Sandrina asked.

Dax looked around to see a broken arrow sticking out of the back of Kane’s armor. He grabbed the shaft and pulled the projectile free revealing a wide, razor sharp piece of metal that came to a shallow point. He handed it to Sandrina; she quickly inspected it and threw it away.

“That’s a good and a bad thing,” she said, pointing at Dax. “I need you at her head, checking her breathing. Talk to her, keep her conscious.”

Dax obeyed without a moment’s hesitation. He knelt next to Dalia’s head and moved the hair out of her face. Her eyes were barely open, they rolled uncontrollably until she saw Dax. They locked on him. She gave a faint smile.

“Battle Bonded,” she whispered.

Dax lay down next to her, his face a foot away from hers. She reached up toward him, wincing in pain as she did. He took her hand in his.

“What are we looking at?” Kane asked.

“Wide arrowheads mean shallow penetration, likelihood of organ damage minimal,” Sandrina replied.

“Good, dealing with blood loss is much easier. Dax, do NOT let her go to sleep,” Kane ordered.

“Pain,” Dalia whispered.

“What’d she say?” Sandrina asked.

“Pain,” Dax exclaimed. “It’ll force a surge of adrenaline and it’ll help keep her up!”

Dalia nodded. Her eyes quickly widened. Her fingers gripped Dax’s armored hand tight enough he felt it through the suit. Kane pulled the knife away from Dalia’s back and removed an arrow. Sandrina quickly stuffed the wound with gauze to help stop the bleeding.

“Dalia, what happened?” Dax asked.

“Sandrina knows,” Dalia whimpered, resting her head on the ground.

“I don’t want to hear it from Sandrina. I want to hear it from you. What happened?”

“Negotiations failed. We were preparing dinner when they attacked,” Dalia said, her hands loosened in Dax’s.

Dax quickly squeezed her hand hard enough to make her wince, bringing her back from the edge, albeit temporarily.

“Why’d they attack?” Dax asked.

“If not with them, against them,” Dalia mumbled.

“So, they attacked because you didn’t take their side in the negotiation?” Dax asked.

Dalia nodded. Kane finished cutting a second arrow out and yanked. She winced once more, her reaction significantly less than the first arrow. Sandrina quickly packed the wound.

“You’re going to need to speed it up, Kane,” Dax snarled.

“I speed it up, I may hit an artery and kill her,” Kane countered.

Dax slid slightly away from Dalia. He pointed at the cylinder they’d stolen.

“You see that? That’s their gift from the gods,” Dax explained. “We managed to steal it.”

“That saved our lives,” she mumbled.

Her eyes shut for a split second. Sandrina noticed and ripped an arrow out without making any cuts. Dalia’s eyes shot back open. She let out a deep groan. Blood oozed down Dalia’s side while Sandrina quickly packed the wound.

“We’re almost there,” Kane called out, removing another arrow.

Dax looked at the green blood spreading out around them. He shook his head before looking up at Kane.

“Saline, do we have any?” Kane asked.

“Why do we need that?” Mark asked, flying past the blockade.

“We might have a couple of packs,” Dax replied. “Mark, my room, behind the mirror, get three bags now!”

Mark put the ship on autopilot. He unbuckled himself and rushed to Dax’s room.

Kane handed the knife to Sandrina. “Keep working. I’m going to prep the I.V.s.”

Sandrina took the knife and continued her work. Dax turned back to Dalia. Her eyes were rolling once again. She no longer reacted to the arrows pulled from her back.

“I think this is the one time Momma would understand,” Dax muttered.

He slipped his hand free of Dalia’s. Hers fell limp. Dax quickly removed his glove and tossed it away. Winding up, he brought his open palm down across Dalia’s cheek. The smack of his impact caused his ears to ring. Dalia’s eyes shot open. She took a deep breath.

“You’ve got to stay awake,” Dax called out, his voice trembling.

Sandrina pulled the second to last arrow out and dropped it to the ground.

“Talk to me, did you fight back?” Dax asked.

“Killed twenty-three,” Dalia mumbled.

“With her bare hands against axes. They couldn’t touch her; it was impressive,” Sandrina replied.

“Sandrina okay?” Dalia whispered.

“I’m fine, you worry about you.”

“We got a mission done,” Dax said, forcing a smile.

His heart slammed against his sternum. His stomach turned so violently, if there had been any food inside, he would’ve thrown up.

“You were right,” Dalia whimpered. “We should’ve just stuck to the contract.”

Her eyes rolled once more before closing; her body fell limp.

“Not again,” Dax snarled in defiance. He climbed to his knees. “It’s not happening again.”

“I found the problem,” Sandrina exclaimed.

She dropped the knife and grabbed Dax’s face and pulled it to her work site. One last arrow protruded from just to the left of Dalia’s spine a few inches above her hips.

“She has an arterial graze. I need two more hands to get that arrow out and stitch her up,” Sandrina said. “Can you be my extra hands?”

Dax nodded. He removed his other glove while taking a deep breath to center himself. Throwing the other glove, Sandrina placed an alcohol rag in his hands. He quickly rubbed his hands down and leaned over Dalia’s massive back.

“What do I do?” Dax asked.

Sandrina prepared a needle and thread recovered from Kane’s bag.

“With one hand, you hold half the wound open; the other, take the arrow and carefully remove it,” Sandrina instructed. “I’ll walk you through it. Just do exactly as I say.”

Dax looked into the wound, his helmet’s light illuminating the area. A thin layer of white fat sat between Dalia’s green skin and her lighter green muscles. What looked like a cord the size of a pencil leaked profusely from the area.

With a dab from the gauze, Sandrina cleared out the blood, allowing Dax to see how the arrowhead lay under the artery. The image burned itself into his memory unlike almost anything he’d ever seen. Sandrine dropped the gauze and grabbed the other side of the wound with her free hand and pulled it open while preparing to throw a series of stitches.

Dax’s heart continued to pound in his chest. His adrenaline filled him to the point of almost bursting. Each pump of the hormone through his body revealed to him more and more color contrast between the muscle, fat, foreign object and the artery. To his surprise, his hands were completely steady.

“Are you ready?” Dax asked.

“Yes, now, I want you to twist…” Sandrina started.

Before she could finish, Dax twisted the arrow then tilted it to the side. He created a new cut as he pulled it out but avoided the artery in the process. Sandrina quickly moved in and sewed the artery together before finishing the rest of that wound. Dax threw the arrowhead away. He fell back on his knees.

Kane attached three saline bags to a silver dollar-sized disk full of needles. He opened the valves and waited for the liquid to start pouring out. He grabbed Dalia and rolled her onto her side. Mark, holding the bags, looked away.

With a powerful thrust of his arm, Kane gently rolled Dalia back onto her stomach before feeling her throat. With a sigh, he sat back on his knees as well, wiping sweat from his brow.

“You think that’ll be enough?” Dax asked, concern filling his voice.

“It should be enough fluid to stop her blood pressure from tanking and keep her hydrated,” Kane replied. “Dal’no physiology is so different from ours, I don’t know what lack of oxygen may do to her. If she were human, I’d say start your goodbyes, but Dal’no are tanks compared to us.”

Dax looked down at Dalia’s unconscious face. A familiar pit filled his gut.

“Kane, hold these,” Mark said.

“I’m about to start stitching her up,” Kane countered. “You can hold them for a bit.”

“I’ll hold them,” Dax said, standing up.

He moved to Mark and took the bags. Kane opened another suture kit. In a flash, he was working with Sandrina to unpack, clean, then sew shut Dalia’s wounds. Mark jumped back into the pilot seat. He read a few scans before putting in a heading.

“I’d hang on, guys, we’re about to leap,” Mark called out.

“We’ve got more pressing matters to attend to than a leap,” Kane countered.

Dax watched the teen work. His eyes narrowed, seeing the young man struggling to sort his way through a puzzle.

“Let him cook,” Dax ordered.

Sandrina and Kane looked up at him, disbelief on their faces.

“You want us to stop stitching her up for a leap?” Kane asked.

“Mark?” Dax asked.

He turned from his seat and locked eyes with the former professor.

“It’ll be forty-five seconds, tops, I promise,” Mark replied.

“Then yes, as her Battle Bonded, I’m telling you to stop working on her until Mark finishes his leap.”

With a disapproving shake of their heads, Kane and Sandrina stopped working. Mark activated the leap drive. Dax held the bags up with enough slack for the tubes not to pull on the disk they were attached to.

“I’d close your eyes or look away right about now if I were you guys,” Mark said.

The teen closed his eyes and turned his head toward the ground. Dax turned his back to the viewport shortly before Kane and Sandrina did the same. The engines slowed while the blue cone in front of the ship lessened. When it vanished, a blinding surge of sunlight flooded the ship, causing Dax to clench his eyes shut.

“What are you doing?” Kane barked.

“At this distance, the solar radiation inside the ship almost perfectly matches that of Dal’no’nuuur’s surface,” Mark called back. “Remember when Dax tried to choke her out? Her cells processed enough sunlight to keep her conscious. Whatever in her biology allowed for that will likely help keep her vital organs oxygenated now!”

A spark of joy erupted inside Dax while Kane and Sandrina continued to unpack, clean then stitch up each wound.

“Mark, you’re a genius,” Dax shouted.

“I do pay attention when you try and teach,” Mark replied, turning around in his seat. “Who just totally redeemed himself?”

“I could kiss you right now,” Dax added.

“Please don’t,” Mark replied. “I have enough issues.”

24

HOLDING BREATH

Dax rushed to Dalia’s room. He grabbed her cot’s mattress and pulled it to the main deck. Laying it next to Dalia, he found fresh sheets and placed one on the mattress while draping the other over her for decency. They carefully moved her to the bed. They rolled her to her side.

Mark disappeared to his room. Dax sat next to Dalia, watching her breaths. They were short and shallow. A few seconds later, Mark re-emerged with Znanstvenk Henuva’s staff. It was crudely repaired, but no longer in two pieces. He stuck the staff into the waffle grate next to Dalia. The teen took each saline bag from Kane and looped them on the spikes at the staff’s top.

“There we go,” he said with a smile. “Now we don’t have to hold them.”

“That’s actually pretty clever,” Kane mused. “Mark, I take back everything bad I ever said about you.”

“Really?” Mark asked.

“No,” Kane answered with a sly smile. He punched Mark’s shoulder playfully.

Dax reached out and gently placed a hand on Dalia’s throat. Her pulse was stronger, more even under his touch.

“It’s no longer thready,” Dax said. He looked up at Mark. “We need to get her more protective armor. That Dal’no stuff doesn’t cover enough to be useful.”

“We’ve got plenty of armor pieces to work with. It’d need to be reforged and I’d need to take the computers out of Valtukta gear before we do that too,” Mark replied.

“Do it and see if you can retrofit that technology into our suits. It was very useful,” Dax replied.

“I’ll get right on it,” Mark said, rushing back toward his room before calling back, “Turn the ship every thirty minutes. Give all of us a ten-minute break before turning it back.”

“I can do that,” Kane replied.

Dax looked up to Sandrina. Hope mixed with despair in a perfect storm of fear swirling in the former professor.

“Is she going to make it?” he asked.

Sandrina pulled her salted green hair back, tying it out of her way. She wiped her hands down with a sanitizing rag before returning to tending to Dalia’s wounds.

“I’ve never worked on one of her race before,” Sandrina replied. “I couldn’t tell you. Most other species would’ve died by now. She’s strong, so there’s hope. There’s always hope.”

Dax took Dalia’s hand. Her fingers were limp in his palm. Time slipped away from him as he watched her chest, watching it move slightly with each breath.

Wake up, Dalia, open your eyes! he screamed to himself. You have to wake up. I can’t lose you too.

Icy hands gripped his heart, he felt like it was getting ripped out once more. Kane’s hand on his shoulder snapped him back to his surroundings. He looked up at the former soldier’s weathered features.

“You’ve been here for hours. Take a break. Get some rest, get some food and get cleaned up. You can’t take care of her if you don’t take care of yourself.”

Dax shook his head. Kane’s expression darkened. Clenching his jaw, he released Dalia’s hand and stood up.

“I can’t sleep until I know she’s okay,” Dax countered.

“Fine but go do something else. Distract yourself, because stewing isn’t good for you,” Kane ordered.

Dax looked from Dalia, back to Kane, then to the wolf bear. He bit the inside of his cheek so hard, it hurt. The pain helped focus his mind. He sighed in defeat and nodded. Leaning over, he grabbed his sheathed knife from next to Sandrina.

“Where’s the tarp?” he asked.

“Storage one,” Kane replied.

Dax nodded. He moved to the nearby storage units and opened the largest one. A folded tarp took up most of the free space. Pulling it out, he closed the unit.

“Yeah,” Mark shouted from his quarters. “But it’s still stripped, there’s nothing in here you can cook with.”

“I don’t need to cook,” Dax replied.

He walked over to the wall next to the hallway that led to the engine room. He reached through a rusted hole in the waffle grate. He grabbed the cold, poorly welded-on wrench attached to a bolt on the wall. Pulling down, a muffled click sounded through the metal. He grabbed the waffle grate and pulled the wall away, revealing the hidden kitchen and dining room.

He walked down the gentle slope into the large, open room. He unfolded the tarp and laid it on the ground. Parts of the metal floor were lighter than the rest where the table, booth and cooking devices used to be. The only amenity still inside was a deep freezer. Dax recognized it as one from Bleeze’s bar.

Dax walked over and opened it. It was largely empty except for a handful of chunks of familiar meat wrapped in plastic. He reached down and picked them up. Curiosity tugged at him. He gave it a sniff and smirked.

“Where’d you get bug meat?” Dax whispered.

He put the meat back and shut the freezer. Returning to the main deck, he grabbed the dead beast and pulled it toward the kitchen. Once reaching the door, he wrestled it onto its side before giving it a tight squeeze and made it down the ramp.

Once the beast was laid on the tarp, he returned to the main deck, stripped out of the rest of his armor and placed all of its pieces, except for his knife, into the pod. He marched back to his room, stripped, and changed into his last gray jumpsuit. On his way out, he stopped by Mark’s room. The teen already had the Valtukta armor completely disassembled.

“Where’d you get bug meat?” Dax asked.

“You found it?” Mark grimaced.

“Yeah, and we ran out of bug meat from Dal’no’nuuur a month after we left that world,” Dax replied. “Where’d you get it?”

“There’s a bit of a black market for the stuff. It goes for more than gold,” Mark replied. “I may or may not have traded an upgraded translator for it.”

Dax’s shoulders dropped.

“Please tell me it wasn’t to one of those criminals Bleeze entertains!”

“It was the chef. He said Bleeze’s translators hurt his head and he wanted one that wouldn’t cause problems. He was willing to give the meat and the freezer it came in for one,” Mark said, lifting three fingers into the air. “Scout’s honor.”

“You’re not a scout,” Dax scoffed.

“I could’ve been.”

Dax pushed off the door jamb and turned to walk away.

“She’s going to be okay, Dax,” Mark called out, a tinge of denial in his voice.

“Thanks, Mark,” Dax replied.

He made his way back to the kitchen. The former professor kept his eyes off Dalia’s unconscious body, knowing if he looked at her, he’d be sitting in front of her, pleading for her to wake back up. He closed the door behind him and moved to the dead creature’s carcass before drawing his knife.

“Okay, let’s see how much you remember from what dad taught you that one time you went hunting with him,” Dax muttered.

He rolled up his sleeves and knelt next to the creature before making his first cut down its stomach. The work kept his mind busy. Removing the guts, he placed them near the corner of the tarp. The skinning took the longest. He was careful not to cut into the skin and damage the fur.

Once the skin was mostly free, he decapitated the beast and set it to the side. Having no idea how to properly butcher meat, he cut large chunks of meat away where he could with ease. The more difficult places required strips to be cut free.

It took several hours, but he managed to almost completely clean the skeleton. The deep freezer was packed full of the wolf bear’s meat. There wasn’t an inch of free space left inside. Dax cracked the bottom of the beast’s skull. He cleaned the organs, muscle and meat out of its head before carrying the hide to the bathroom and placing it against one wall.

He returned to the dining room. He wrapped the guts and blood into the tarp so it wouldn’t leak. Returning to the bathroom, he set the tarp down in the shower. Dax washed the blood off his hands and forearms. Next, he cleaned the smears off his face before returning to the main deck. Kane leaned in front of Dalia, removing her I.V.’s.

“Any improvement?” Dax asked, hope flickered within him.

“Her pulse is still strong. Her bleeding’s stopped, but she still hasn’t woken up,” Kane explained, lifting the empty bags. “This was all we had. No point in keeping her hooked up if it’s not going to help her.”

Dax nodded and turned to Sandrina.

“I agree with him. The fact that she’s still alive, though, is a very good thing. If she’s going to wake up, I’d imagine it’ll happen within the next twenty-four hours.”

“I’ll continue to stay busy, then,” Dax grumbled.

He marched over to the cylinder, knife in hand, and knelt next to it. Dax laid it on its side and inspected every inch of the device closely. Scorch marks added a muted black to the already dark container. He couldn’t find any external way to open what he assumed was some form of door.

“Where’d you get that staff?” Sandrina asked.

Dax glanced back to see the physician looking suspiciously from the emblem on the staff back to the matching symbol on the cylinder.

“We stole that from the Valtukta scientist that experimented on us. I’m assuming this is the symbol of their empire,” Dax replied.

“It is a symbol of their empire,” Sandrina replied. “Why is it on that pod?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” Dax replied.

He jammed the tip of his knife into one of the seams. With a powerful strike, he drove it deeper into the cylinder.

“And I’ve got a feeling once I pop this open, one of my theories will be proven either right or wrong,” Dax added.

With a powerful pull to one side, the pod groaned. Its door popped off, flipped through the air and hit the ground with a clatter. Inside, a sack full of a translucent gray liquid filled the pod.

With the edge of his razor-sharp blade, he sliced the sack. Curiosity swirled inside him to a level he hadn’t felt since their first night in the cave on Dal’no’nuuur. At the bottom of the gray ooze was a shadow, nearly a foot long.

Dax set the knife down. He plunged his hands into the ooze. A grimace pulled on his features from the warm snot-like medium. He gagged once it passed his mid forearms. The scientist in him drove him forward while the teacher screamed to pull out.

A bony sensation rubbed against his fingertips. His eyes widened. Grabbing the item, he quickly pulled it out. The thick embryonic fluid sloughed back into the pod. His curiosity instantly shifted to a sense of impending doom and regret.

“What is it?” Kane asked.

Dax slowly rose to his feet. He continued to inspect the dead creature in his hands. He begged that what he was looking at wasn’t real. He slowly turned to Sandrina and Kane.

“What is that?” the physician asked.

“Wait… no,” Kane said in disbelief. “It isn’t.”

“It is,” Dax said softly.

“I don’t get it, what is that thing?” Sandrina pressed harder.

“That’s a baby Queen Maker,” Kane replied. “Looks like Dax’s theory that the bugs are a Valtukta bioweapon was right.”

“I hate being right all the time,” Dax growled.

25

TRUTH REVEALED

“What theory?” Sandrina asked.

“That resource-rich planets, primarily metal, are targeted by a more advanced species,” Dax said, pointing at the two Valtukta emblems. “I originally thought it might be a single colony that grew at first.”

“A Queen Maker makes more sense, though,” Kane chimed in. “She’s big, she’s dangerous and can protect the queen until her hive is finished.”

“Then why didn’t it survive the impact?” Sandrina asked.

Dax looked back at the cylinder. He pursed his lips before looking at the creature.

“That’s what the gray snot was for,” Dax mumbled.

He quickly rushed to the removed door. He picked it up and walked back over to Sandrine, Kane and the unconscious Dalia. Kneeling, he placed the bug on his makeshift operating table.

Dax quickly drew his knife and slid it across the underside of the insect. He peeled the thorax away to reveal a core of blackened shriveled organs. He poked around for a few moments before inspecting the lungs. They were blackened and shriveled as well.

“How do you know how to do that?” Kane asked.

“Did you never dissect anything in science class?” Dax asked. “We did June bugs, grasshoppers, locusts, and half a dozen other insects before we moved on to animals.”

Dax turned the insect over and looked at Sandrina, exposing its organs.

“What does this tell you?”

“That looks like oxygen deprivation,” Sandrina replied. “How? That world had plenty of oxygen.”

“Not for these things,” Dax countered. “This bug, this single bug can get to the size of this starship. We’ve seen a queen that was so large, a mountain was literally built around her.”

“To grow to that size, they’d need to consume so much biomass, and their metabolisms would have to be insane,” Sandrina replied.

Her eyes darted back and forth. Her ears twitched while her features scrunched. She tapped her claw-like fingernails against her knee.

“I don’t see how that’s biologically possible.”

“What if they consumed every tree, plant and living creature on an entire planet. Where they fed to the point the world was turned into little more than a desert?” Dax asked. “And if that world had a high enough oxygen concentration to keep their metabolisms going to the point they could grow to their genetic limits.”

Sandrina’s eyes widened. She poked at the creature to get a closer look.

“Are you saying that if a world doesn’t have the right oxygen saturation, these things will just expire?”

“It’s an easy way to prevent over farming. You drop these on a hundred planets, five have the right oxygen base. Those five hatch and clear the worlds, the other ninety-five die in their pods. You harvest your five worlds after they’ve been consumed and the bugs starve to death,” Dax added.

“Aren’t you supposed to be a linguist?” Kane asked. “Where’d you get all this biology crap?”

“Everyone’s got to eat lunch, even scientists,” Dax countered. “Thing about scientists at that level, they don’t know how to turn their brains off so all they do is talk science. And I had those lunches, every day, for fifteen years. That’s three thousand, nine hundred hours. It takes one hundred twenty hours to get a degree. That’s the equivalent of getting thirty-two and a half degrees, just from lunches, because geneticists, biologists, chemists; they don’t shut up. And all I had to do was understand their language.”

“I admit defeat on that one,” Kane muttered.

A look of horror spread across Sandrina’s face. She sat back on her heels while covering her mouth. Dax watched her closely, putting the bug down and trying not to grimace at the guts on her finger that slid across her face.

“The Valtakuntera… they destroyed my people,” she whispered more to herself than everyone else. “They killed billions, sent us to the edge of extinction. All for what?!”

“Iron most likely,” Kane replied. “Or whatever they build those fleets out of.”

“I’m sorry,” Dax said softly. “But between this, Dal’no’nuuur, your world and our next contract, we may have enough to bring down the Valtakuntera.”

“You can’t defeat them with evidence like this,” she murmured, wiping her hands on a sanitizing rag. “They are the largest contributors to the United Species Senate. You bring something like this forward, it’ll just get covered up and you’ll… I guess all of us now, will just disappear.”

“We’re also not going to war with them. We call this thing the Junkyard for a reason,” Kane chimed in. “It may have Dal’no weaponry, but you sneeze in this thing wrong and something falls off.”

“You’re both right,” Dax relented, looking at the Valtakuntera sigil. “But now we know the real reason the Ryshy were blockading that world.”

“The Ryshy would be destroyed in a fight with the Valtakuntera. They’re powerful but not that large,” Sandrina said.

Dax stood up. He walked over to the pod and dropped the creature inside. Making his way to the bathroom, his mind swirled with thoughts in light of this new information. He washed his hands and his blade before drying both and sheathing the knife. Re-emerging, he crossed his arms and leaned against the door jamb.

“Three and a half years ago, I would’ve said do it. We provide our evidence to the Ryshy. It gives them a foothold to use it against the Valtukta. They are a large enough entity that they can’t be ignored, and we get to rest at night knowing we did the right thing.”

“And now?” Kane asked.

“We’ve got a team member down, and a job to do,” Dax replied. “The second Dalia opens her eyes, we set our coordinates to PB112 and leap. Sandrina, I’m sorry, but for now, we can’t let you leave, or pay you for the work you’ve done on Dalia. I guess we’re kind of kidnapping you.”

“You do know that admitting to a crime makes it easier to prosecute, right?” Kane asked.

“You’re not kidnapping me,” Sandrina replied. “Dalia’s my patient. I stay until I know she’s made a full recovery. And as far as pay goes, I still owe you for the extra task you took on for me. Dalia saved my life; that’s pay enough for my services to return the favor.”

Dax grabbed the pod door and put it in its place over the bug and sack of goo. He turned back to Dalia. Her breathing had slowed; each breath was deeper than the hours before. He moved back to her side and sat down in front of her.

“You need to get some rest,” Sandrina suggested.

“Or at least get cleaned up first,” Kane added.

“The shower is currently holding the wolf bear’s organs, and part of its pelt. Showers are sort of out of the question at the moment,” Dax countered. “You guys have stayed with her long enough. You both get some rest. If there’s an issue, I’ll… She’ll need you fresh.”

Sandrina took a breath to counter. Kane cleared his throat.

“We’ll get cleaned up and get some rest, then.”

Without looking, Dax could feel Kane’s stern gaze at Sandrina. She stood up and bowed slightly.

“I will do what’s best for my patient. Where may I rest?”

“My room is the second to the left,” Dax replied. “It’s not very comfortable, but it’s good enough to sleep in.”

“Thank you,” Sandrina said.

She turned and walked toward the rooms. Kane moved to Dax’s side and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“She knows you’re here,” he said softly. “She’s quite literally the strongest woman I’ve ever met. She’ll fight her way back. If you need me, just call.”

“Thank you,” Dax replied.

He continued to sit silently next to Dalia for what felt like hours, the sun beating at his back. He noticed blood clumped and dried in her hair. Dax grabbed several of the sanitizing wipes and gently unbraided her mane.

Using the wipes, he carefully cleaned her hair out, listening closely to her breathing, hoping it’d continue to improve. He continued to clean her hair until no more green was drawn from her raven locks. Once completely clean, he took her hair once again and started to put the braids back in.

“Hey, can I borrow your helmet?” Mark asked.

He walked into the main cabin, looking at a device in his hands. Once he looked up, he stopped in his tracks and turned back around.

“I’m sorry, I’ll give you some alone time if you…”

“I don’t mind,” Dax cut in, looking up at the teen. “What do you have there?”

“It’s the targeting and data array from the Valtukta helmet. I was able to get in there and managed to re-work the coding while keeping the mainframe intact, ultimately creating a higher quality product in the process.”

“How’d you re-work the coding?” Dax asked.

“If the suit was on, it’d immediately start transmitting its position through an internal transmitter. I removed the coding that made that possible and put in some of my own so that only we can track it by a device powered from our Dal’no power core,” Dax replied.

“And what device is that?”

“I have yet to make it, but I’m sure we’ll be able to salvage enough parts for me to put one together. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve made an effective tracker,” Mark replied.

“That is right,” he mused.

“I was also able to pull some archive information on how we see the color spectrum from the servers the Dal’no used to help us rebuild so the night vision will be specifically tailored to us, as well as color gradient management from the little eye experiment they did to us,” Mark continued.

Mark made his way to Dax’s suit. He grabbed the helmet, pulled some tools out of his pocket and sat next to Dax before starting to work.

“I’ve noticed that when my adrenaline rushes, I start to see colors more vividly. And even with a full moon, we shouldn’t have been able to see the path we took on the mountain that clearly.”

“Yeah, it’s because they surgically implanted more rods and cones into our eyes,” Mark scoffed as he disassembled the helmet and started to work. “They couldn’t find a way to properly attach them to the optic nerve and be functional, so they tied them to the blood supply. When your adrenaline kicks in, your vessels open, allowing the new rods and cones to kick in.”

“How do you know that?” Dax asked.

He finished braiding Dalia’s hair before moving back in front of her and taking her hand.

“Grand Scientist Henuva told me,” Mark replied. “Every time he’d work on me, he’d monologue in deep detail about what they were doing. He did the same with Kane. I’m surprised he didn’t do the same with you.”

“He probably did. I just repressed it,” Dax scoffed. “And Grand Scientist? That’s a little gaudy, don’t you think?”

“What do you think Znanstvenk stands for? It’s not his first name; it’s his title Grand Scientist of the Valtukta Empire.”

Mark wired the device into the existing system inside Dax’s helmet. He quickly reassembled it before offering it to the former professor.

“You want to know what the greatest thing about the Earth prison system is?” Mark asked, raising an eyebrow.

“What?” Dax replied.

He let go of Dalia’s hand and took the helmet.

“The operating systems are bare bones, but the technology it’s uploaded into is old private sector stuff they think is junk. I could never get into the suits anywhere near Earth without our ship systems being shut down remotely. I should have done this earlier.”

Dax slid the helmet on. It powered up, running an immediate diagnostic scan of both Mark and Dalia, showing both of their heart beats, respiratory rate and skin temperature.

“It doesn’t have all of the capabilities of the Valtukta armor, but it has a ton of applications that would’ve been so useful in the O.G.R.E. position,” Mark continued.

The helmet marked movement detected on Dalia’s face. He looked down to see her eyes starting to open. Hope erupted through him. Dax took his helmet off and threw it to the ground before taking Dalia’s hand once again.

“Dalia, can you hear me?!” Dax called out.

“What’d the kid call me?” she asked in a weak voice.

26

UP

“You’re awake,” Dax exclaimed. “How are you feeling?”

“Lightheaded, a little weak and pretty sore,” Dalia replied.

She tried to get up, winced and dropped back to her mattress. Dax placed a hand on her arm to keep her in place while looking up at Mark.

“Turn the ship around and get Sandrina and Kane,” he ordered before looking at Dalia. “Don’t move. You’ve got stitches covering your back. We don’t want you to rip them out.”

“What are stitches?” Dalia asked.

“We sewed your skin together where you were wounded,” Mark replied.

The teen jumped into the pilot’s seat and turned the ship away from the sun. He quickly slid out of the chair and rushed back to the crew quarters.

“That’s an interesting way to close wounds,” she said, laying her head on the ground. “My people usually just spit into sand and rub it in the cut.”

“I bet a lot of people died from infection.”

“Yep, they did,” Dalia replied. “How long have I been out?”

“Almost a full day,” Dax answered.

She looked down at the blanket covering her.

“Am I naked?”

“Half. It looks like one of the arrows severed the leather in your armor, so it fell off,” Dax replied.

“I bet Mark enjoyed the show.” She chuckled before wincing.

“He actually turned the other way while we were covering you.”

“He’s maturing,” Dalia answered.

Dalia closed her eyes once more. Dax leaned down in front of her face.

“I need you to open your eyes for me,” he said.

“I’m not going unconscious; my eyes are just heavy,” she replied.

Kane, Sandrina and Mark rushed out of the crew quarters. Sandrina moved toward Dalia’s head; she shouldered Dax surprisingly hard enough to knock him off balance. He fell to the cold, metal floor while she pulled a light from Kane’s medical bag.

“Dalia, I need you to open your eyes and look at me,” Sandrina called out.

Dalia’s eyes fluttered open. She winced at the light. Dax watched closely; a hot iron ball formed in his gut while he sat back up. Sandrina moved the light from left to right, then up and down. Dalia followed with her eyes.

“Good, okay, I’m going to need you to squeeze my finger as hard as you can,” Sandrina said, putting the light down.

“If you value your finger, that’s a bad idea,” Kane said.

“I saw her crush one of the local’s skulls with her bare hands. I know what her grip strength is,” Sandrina countered. “That’s why it’s only a finger and not a whole hand.”

She slid a finger from each hand into Dalia’s palms. The Dal’no squeezed as tightly as she could. Sandrina removed her fingers and nodded in approval before looking down at Dalia’s toes.

“Give your feet a wiggle for me,” she ordered.

Dalia’s feet gave a little kick. Her toes fluttered with ease.

“Good, you didn’t lose enough to hamper your motor skills, that’s a very good sign,” the physician said.

“Why was it so bright in here?” Dalia asked, her voice still weak.

“Mark had the great idea to get us close to a star so that whatever photosynthesis your body does would keep oxygen going to your brain in case you lost too much blood,” Dax replied.

She looked up at the teen and flashed her tusks in approval.

“You’re a smart kid. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. I just flew the ship,” Mark replied, motioning at Kane and Sandrina. “These two were the ones that got the arrows out of your back and made sure you didn’t bleed out. And I don’t think Dax has left your side since they’ve finished working.”

“Thank you, all of you,” she said.

She gave Dax a smile. The lead ball in his gut warped into butterflies. Dalia looked around the room. Her brow furrowed.

“Why am I on the main deck?” she asked before sniffing the air. “And what’s that rancid smell?”

“We didn’t want to move you and risk further injury. Depending on how fast your people heal, I’ll want you to stay put for another day or so, just to let the healing process get a strong foothold,” Sandrina replied. “As for the smell, I’ll let Dax reply to that.”

Dalia looked at Dax. He gave a sheepish shrug.

“Before we got out of the forest, Kane and I were attacked by this big furry animal and we had to kill it,” Dax explained. “We didn’t want it to go to waste, so when we retreated, we picked it up and I skinned and cleaned it.”

“Now there’s an untanned pelt and a tarp full of intestines in the bathroom,” Kane chimed in.

“But we have a freezer full of meat, and it’ll be good, I hope,” Dax countered.

Kane shifted his weight from one leg to the other and grimaced.

“We can tan it when we get to our next job.”

“You know what that entails, right?” Dax asked.

“We don’t have the chemicals on board to do it the modern way, so yes, I do know what that entails, and I’m telling you, I am not looking forward to it.”

“Isn’t one of the primary ingredients of those chemicals ammonia?” Mark asked.

“Yes, it is,” Dax replied.

Mark’s brow furrowed.

“But where are we going to get…” His eyes widened as he trailed off. “Ohhh… eeeewwww!”

Kane gave Mark a pat on the back.

“I hope you’re dehydrated the ammonia’s more concentrated that way,” the former soldier teased before turning his attention to Sandrina. “Is she stable enough to travel?”

Sandrina leaned down and placed her ear on Dalia’s chest. She listened for a few minutes before leaning back and shrugging.

“I mean, she’s awake, her heart sounds good. Both lungs seem to be working fine. I don’t see why we couldn’t keep moving.”

“You heard her, we’ve got a second job to do,” Kane said, looking at Mark. “The longer we wait, the bigger those buggers get.”

“On it,” Mark replied.

The teen rushed back to the pilot’s seat and strapped himself in. Dax watched as he plotted a course to PB112.

“Don’t gun it like you usually do,” Dax warned. “Start slow and gradually accelerate.”

“What? You guys don’t like having to brace every time we leap?” Mark teased.

“As much as we do, I’d rather not undo all the work Sandrina and Kane have done by having to brace myself,” Dalia replied.

“Slow and steady it is, then,” Mark replied.

The ship’s engines roared to life, causing the Junkyard to start rattling while they pulled out of the solar system. Dalia looked up at Dax, then around the room.

“Can you help me sit up?” she asked. “Lying like this has made my arm go numb.”

“Okay, but you can’t help us get you up at all,” Dax replied, grabbing Dalia’s arm before looking at Sandrina and Kane.

“You two want to push on that shoulder, I’ll gently pull on this one. We can lift her without straining her back.”

Kane nodded in approval and moved next to Dalia. He knelt and slid a hand under her shoulder. Sandrina did the same. Dax looked at Dalia with an arched brow.

“You ready?”

Dalia let out a nervous breath while nodding.

“Okay, on three. One, two, three!”

Dalia closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. Dax pulled while the others pushed. A half second later, the Dal’no was sitting up. She opened her eyes, surprise spreading across her features while a soft chuckle left her throat.

“I hardly felt that.”

“Good, now, if you need anything, let us know, and we’ll help you with it. One of those stitches is on a major artery. I don’t want you to pop it,” Dax explained.

“Pop a stitch?” Sandrina asked.

“That’s what I was going to ask,” Dalia added.

“It’s shorthand for popping a stitch out of place. When it tears through and no longer holds the skin together,” Kane explained.

“Pop a stitch; that’s a fun phrase,” Sandrina mused. “I like it.”

The engines continued to whine while they accelerated. Dax noticed Dalia glancing at his blood-stained jumpsuit. His cheeks warmed at his lack of decorum in front of her. He quickly stood up and looked at Sandrine and Kane.

“I’m going to get into something that isn’t bloody if you two want to make sure she’s still good,” Dax said.

“We’ve got it. Go get cleaned up,” Kane replied.

“You guys may want to brace her; we’re going as fast as this hunk of junk can without a leap. I’m going to activate the drive now,” Mark called back.

Sandrina and Kane moved behind Dalia and gently braced her in the sitting position. Mark flipped the leap drive. A blue cone swirled in front of them as the ship lurched faster than light.

Dax swayed at the shift in speed. He looked down at Dalia. She nodded and offered a thumbs-up to him. Kane and Sandrina moved from behind her. Without a word, Dax made his way back to his room. Grabbing the door, he closed it as slowly and quietly as he could.

Its hinges squealed like fingernails on a chalkboard. A tremble ran down his spine at the noise while gritting his teeth. Once shut, he locked it, spun, jumped and punched at the air in victory.

“Yes! Thank you! Thank you!” he whispered through a clenched jaw.

Clapping his hands, he punched at the air once more.

“She’s up!”

Unzipping his jumpsuit, he kicked his leg out before giving a spin. Joy overflowed him, bleeding into a celebratory dance. He dropped his jumpsuit to the ground, continuing in his boxers for a few moments.

Not seeing where he was going, he stubbed his pinky toe into the metal frame of his bed. A soft whimper left his throat while the pain erupted through his appendage and up his leg. Leaning forward, he started to breathe slowly and deeply to stop from unleashing the string of swears that wanted to escape.

“Absorb the pain, absorb the pain,” he hissed to himself.

With a trembling hand, he grabbed the clothes Sandrina had given him. He took his time getting dressed, putting his boots on and tossing his jacket on last. Walking to the door, he unlocked it and shoved it open. The radiating pain in his foot gradually dissipated as he walked on it.

Once back on the main deck, Kane and Mark stared at him. Sandrina inspected the stitches on Dalia’s back. Mark leaned back in his seat with his arms crossed. Dax flashed everyone a smile while picking up his helmet and putting it back on his suit.

“What’s with the looks?” he asked.

“We heard a thud,” Kane said.

“What was the thud?” Mark asked. “Were you celebratory dancing again?”

Dax felt the nape of his neck warm up at the accusation. He folded his arms and shook his head.

“I’ll have you know; I was putting on my shirt, I got a little impatient and tried to get to my pants. I couldn’t see where I was going and I stubbed my pinky toe,” Dax explained.

A grimace spread across Mark’s and Kane’s faces at the comment.

“That couldn’t have felt good,” Sandrina mused.

“It didn’t. Now why don’t you two finish getting some rest. I’ll sit with Dalia,” Dax said, moving next to the Dal’no.

“I could use a few more hours,” Sandrina replied.

“Same,” Kane added.

They both returned to their quarters while Mark turned back around to monitor the system. Dalia leaned over to him and whispered softly enough Mark couldn’t hear her.

“You were celebratory dancing again, weren’t you?” she asked.

“Oh yeah, you’re awake, why wouldn’t I?” Dax replied.

27

FUTURE PLANS

During their leap, Dalia healed up enough to return to her room where she passed out. Sandrina stayed close to continue to monitor her. After cleaning up his space, Dax gave her his room for the trip. Dax left Dalia’s door open so if she needed anything, everyone could hear her.

“How’s she doing?” Kane asked.

“She seems to be doing okay,” Dax replied. “Her cognition doesn’t seem to be inhibited at all; she was making jokes too. I think she’ll be okay.”

“I’m inclined to agree,” Sandrina added from Dax’s room. “I’ll continue monitoring her. The wounds on her back are already noticeably healing. No sign of infection; her kind must be very strong.”

“They certainly are,” Kane replied, tapping Dax with the back of his hand. “Take my quarters. I’ll cover the next shift.”

“I’m not tired,” Dax countered.

“You’ve been up for two days; bad things start happening at three.”

“We don’t know that. We’re enhanced now; maybe we can stay up for longer periods,” Dax countered.

“We’re about to get into a fight. Our literal heaviest hitter is out of commission, so we both need to be on the top of our game. Get rest,” Kane countered.

Dax sighed. He scratched his chin while looking at Dalia’s door. Worry for her still pulled at the back of his mind. Relenting, he went to Kane’s room and lay down. Kane’s room was minimalistic like his own, but there was an air of uniformity to it he couldn’t quite put his finger on. It was unsettling, but not so much to keep him awake.

Dax’s eyes opened. He shook his head, blinked the world into focus and sat up. Rubbing his eyes, brain fog pulled at his senses. Mark walked past Kane’s open door. A bracer in hand, open while he fiddled with its insides. He stopped to look at Dax.

“Dang, man, it’s good to see you up,” Mark exclaimed. “I was starting to think we were going to get to Peanut Butter before you got up.”

“Peanut Butter?” Dax asked, his voice croaked from disuse.

“PB112, figured I’d give it some flavor,” Mark replied.

“How long have I been out?”

“Long enough for me to finish the helmet integrations and start experimenting with some other crazy ideas I had,” Mark said.

“That doesn’t give a time,” Dax countered.

“I’d guess twenty hours.”

“And Dalia?”

“She’s woken up a few times but goes back to sleep. She’s okay, though.”

Dax pushed off the cot. Standing to his full height, he rubbed his eyes once more and made his way to the door.

“I’m glad to hear that. What are you working on there? Did it get damaged on our last outing?” Dax asked.

“Oh, no, I wanted to see if the tech in our suits bracers had syncing potential like the helmets,” Mark replied.

“And?”

“And it most certainly does. I’ve toyed with them, and I think O.G.R.E. 1 and O.G.R.E. 2 are going to enjoy the new changes I’ve made.”

Dax crossed his arms. Mark closed the bracer and started its re-assembly.

“I think it’ll be fun to watch the surprise on your face when I talk you through it,” Mark replied. “I also managed to remove the trackers in my suit, so I have protective gear now too. I’m not terribly good at etching, though, so the emblem looks like a kindergartener did it.”

Dax stepped out of the room. He glanced inside Mark’s quarters. Loose pieces of metal lay around the floor. He turned to the main deck. Making his way to the suit pods, he looked at the Valtukta suit. The symbol of its empire was painted over. Dax moved to its side to see the O.G.R.E. skull crossed by a two-handed war axe poorly scratched into the pauldron.

“You know what?” Dax asked, looking at Mark, who had followed him. “I think that should go on the fridge.”

Mark tossed him a sarcastic laugh before returning the bracer to Dax’s suit.

“Keep mocking me and I’ll take the internal filters out of your suit,” Mark threatened.

“Oh, come on, that’s just mean,” Dax countered.

“Taunt my work and I’ll sentence you to a fart can,” Mark said, pointing at the suit.

“I mean, I’ve already been sentenced, and it’s not been fulfilled yet. Can you sentence me again?”

“You can be sentenced while still incarcerated,” Kane called out from the pilot’s seat.

Dax looked to see the former Marine working on the series of switches and screens in front of him.

“You’re thinking double jeopardy where you can’t be charged for the same crime twice.”

“That’s good to know. How far out are we from PB112?” Dax asked.

“Peanut Butter,” Mark countered. “Remember, flavor.”

“We’re not calling it Peanut Butter,” Kane and Dax said in unison.

Mark finished connecting the bracer and threw his hands up.

“Fine, be that way, don’t have any fun with it.”

Mark shook his head and returned to his quarters. Dax walked over to Kane and leaned on the back of the chair.

“How was your nap?” Kane asked.

“Refreshing. How have things been up here?”

“Uneventful. We’ve still got ten hours until we arrive at PB112. I imagine once we land, it’ll be going full Rambo from the off,” Kane said.

“Did you just make a movie reference?” Dax asked, a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

Kane sighed, hung his head before smacking his forehead with an open palm.

“I’ve been spending way too much time with you and Mark,” he muttered.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tease you about it,” Dax said. “Why do you think we’re going to need to ‘go full Rambo from the off’?”

“I thought you said you weren’t going to tease me about it,” Kane said, looking up at Dax.

“I wasn’t, just quoting you.”

Kane turned back to his work. He motioned at the radio signal. There was nothing but static on the other end. Dax leaned down and tapped the screen. Nothing.

“I’ve been trying that. I haven’t been able to get even a blip since we got within range.”

“Are you sure you’re on the right frequency?” Dax asked.

Without a word, Kane flipped a switch to bring up the data on Bleeze’s puck to the screen with the radio information. He pointed at the frequency before flipping back. Sure enough, they matched. Dax told himself it could be any number of issues to stop the panic and concern from creeping in.

“Have you reached out to Bleeze to double-check?” Dax asked.

“We can’t, he’s out of range,” Kane replied.

“Then relay through a nearby guild facility.”

“The closest one was Sandrina’s and they’re not on that world anymore.”

Dax turned around and looked around.

“Sandrina?!” he called out.

A few seconds later, she emerged from the crew quarters.

“Yes?”

“The team you were with, where would they be right now?” Dax asked.

“I would say on their way to our next job. They may not have been able to use the first aid you brought on that world, but it’ll still be useful for the next relief job.”

“And where is that job?” Kane asked.

“It’s in the opposite direction we’re going,” Sandrina replied, putting her hands in her pockets. “Are you thinking about dropping me off?”

“No, we’re trying to figure out who we can relay a message through to get to Bleeze and check some information,” Dax explained.

“Oh, you’re not going to be able to do that. PB112 is the guild relay for this part of space.” She approached the chair. “Are you not able to get them on the line?”

Kane motioned at the radio frequency.

“Nope, and we’re on the same channel Bleeze’s data disk told us to use,” he replied.

“We’re starting to hope he gave us the wrong number,” Dax added.

Sandrina inspected the frequency and nodded.

“That’s right, you should be getting them.”

“And what would cause that kind of static?” Kane asked.

“Any number of things. The radio could have a faulty amplifier, there could be a power supply issue, or it could’ve been destroyed,” Sandrina explained. “But it’s a hardy machine; it’ll take more than your average insect to take it out.”

“Yeah, well, you haven’t met these bugs,” Dax explained.

“Speaking of which, we need to have a protocol for when we get there. We can’t risk this ship being taken out by those things,” Kane explained.

“It’s pretty simple, I’d think,” Dax replied. “We land just long enough for the away team, you and I, to get on the ground. Mark then provides air support when needed.”

“And what if this nest has fliers? If things go bad down there, one of those things in the engine and we’re stranded. I think you and I should take it alone while the ship flies too high for the bugs to survive. Once the Queen Maker and queen are dead, we get as far away from the nest as we can and have them pick us up,” Kane suggested. “The bugs won’t be able to breed, and any we miss will die out from age.”

“If it’s not completely F.U.B.A.R.ed down there, I’m good for it.”

“F.U.B.A.R.ed?” Sandrina asked. “My translator doesn’t seem to be able to pick that one up.”

“It’s an unimportant acronym,” Dax replied.

“I hate to ask this, but if you all are really as dangerous to these creatures as you say you are, can you clear my world?” Sandrina asked.

“I thought you said it’s nothing but a desert wasteland,” Kane said.

“It is, but it’d be nice to know that the creatures that killed my people have been eradicated. I don’t have enough money to pay for that, but I will offer my services to your ship. Kane is clearly skilled in triage, but what about more complex medical procedures? I am versed on just about every race in the galaxy and I can learn very quickly about your species to be of better help.”

Kane looked up at Dax. Sympathy and curiosity spread over his wrinkled face. The corner of his mustache twitched as if to fight a smile.

“Kane, we got lucky on Dal’no’nuuur. There’s no way it should’ve worked that well. We haven’t been back, we don’t even know if it was really successful,” Dax countered. “As much as we do need a good doctor, taking on a planet of those things is a little out of our league.”

“We could use chemicals,” Kane suggested.

“Chemicals is another war crime,” Mark shouted from his room.

“There’s not enough Raid in the galaxy to clear out a planet of…” Dax trailed off.

His mind started to race. He folded one arm across his chest while tapping his chin with the other. Dax turned and started to pace along the main deck.

“What’s he doing?” Sandrina asked.

“He’s thinking,” Kane replied in a whisper. “Let him cook.”

Dax’s thoughts rushed to his time as a professor. Several memories of his closest friend swirled into a twisted idea.

“That’s… that’s drifting dangerously into mad scientist behavior, but it might work,” he muttered to himself.

“What might work?” Sandrina asked.

“I’ve got a mycologist friend who taught me about some interesting things he was doing with cordyceps, maybe he can help us genetically engineer something to focus on the Underbeast bugs specifically,” Dax suggested.

“What’s a cordyceps?” Sandrina asked.

“It’s a fungus, a very specific fungus that targets insects on our home world. It controls them to go near their nest before sprouting from them, killing them and spreading to the rest of the nest. It’s extremely effective.”

“What about the other insects on the planet?” Kane asked. “Won’t that be adding a particularly viral invasive species to a world?”

“The planet’s dead; it’s only bugs,” Dax countered, motioning to the cylinder. “And that’s why we keep that Queen Maker. They can genetically alter the fungus to specifically target that gene type alone. We do that, there’s no more ground missions. We drop it over the nest, they die, the fungus dies, life returns to normal. It’s a win, win.”

28

NEXT JOB

Kane pulled back on the leap drive. The blue aura faded from in front of the ship while several worlds zipped past their vessel. They slowed to what seemed like a crawl while approaching another life-filled planet.

Dax turned to the view port, watching intently while Kane adjusted their course to fly around the world. The former professor looked at one of the screens that held the landing site information from Bleeze’s puck. He glanced back at the planet, recognizing the continental shape as it rounded the edge of the world.

“The guild outpost should be right about…” Dax fell silent.

In the center of a lush, green planet sat a sandy brown stain that spidered out in every direction. Kane brought the ship to a standstill. He turned the vessel toward the planet and leaned back in his chair.

“It wasn’t that large when we left Bleeze’s,” Kane whispered in horror.

“The bugs move fast,” Dax replied, leaning against a console. “But that’s likely not large enough to house two queens. It may still be doable to stick with our original plan.”

Kane leaned forward once more and flipped several switches.

“What are you doing?” Sandrina asked.

“Planetary scans for technology,” Kane replied.

“Why not just scan for life forms and differentiate the ones that are different from the rest?” Sandrina asked.

A bolt fell from the ceiling and landed between Dax and the physician. He bent over and picked it up.

“The Junkyard’s scanners are not that advanced,” he said, sliding the bolt into his pocket.

A ping flickered on their radar. Dax inspected it closely while it vanished for a few seconds before returning. He tapped the screen a few times. It continued to flicker.

“That’s weird,” he mumbled. “Any idea what that is?”

“Probably something breaking down. But it’s the only source of tech on the planet, so we’d better check it out.”

“That’s not something breaking down; that’s a shield,” Sandrina scolded.

She pushed Dax out of the way and pointed from the scanner result down at the planet. Where the ping sat was on the edge of a rounded border of the expanding desert.

“You boys need to upgrade the technology in your ship,” Sandrina huffed.

A panel rattled on the main deck. It swung free and dangled, screeching against the wall. Kane and Dax both looked from the panel, back to Sandrina.

“Because that’s the most important thing we need to do to the ship,” Kane replied.

Sandrina looked from the panel to the hold above her where the bolt fell free, then back to the view screen.

“That’s a shield,” Sandrina exclaimed. “And if radio can’t get through it, it must be top of the line.”

“You’re telling me there’s hope they didn’t get overrun?” Dax asked.

“That type of shield pulls so much juice that continued use must be manually approved every hour. If it’s still up, they’re still alive.”

“Perfect. MARK!” Kane shouted.

A few moments later the teen emerged from his back room with Kane’s bracer in hand. He finished reassembling it and placed it on Kane’s suit.

“We’re here?” Mark asked.

“That we are,” Dax replied.

He stepped back while motioning for Sandrina to move with him. She did. Kane unbuckled himself and climbed out of the seat while Mark marched to the chair and climbed in.

“You know, you really need to learn how to land this thing eventually,” Mark huffed, initiating the landing sequence.

“If I wanted to fly or land things, I would’ve joined the Space Force,” Kane countered. “Besides, we need time to suit up.”

He gave Dax a tap with the back of his hand before moving toward his suit.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” Dax replied.

“I know you know how to land this thing, Dax,” Mark added.

“You’re not landing,” Dax countered. “We get down there, you hover, we drop out, you get back into the upper atmosphere where the flying bugs can’t fly into the engine manifold and strand us on PB112.”

“You sure about that?” Mark asked.

Dax turned and started to the crew quarters.

“Positive. If things go sideways badly enough, we’ll call you.”

He took his jacket off while quietly opening Dalia’s door. Dalia lay unconscious on her cot, partially covered by a blanket. Dax approached her and pulled the blanket over her before placing his hand on her shoulder.

“Rest up,” he whispered. “I’ll miss you out there.”

He stepped away, watching her sleep for a few seconds before placing his jacket under her cot. Dax walked out of her room. The ship shook from entering the atmosphere. He held on to her door to keep his footing before closing it.

Once the ship stabilized, he made his way to the O.G.R.E. 2 pod and started to put on his gear. His mouth started to dry while he let out an uneven breath. Kane glanced over to him as he locked his helmet in place.

“We’ve fought this enemy before; we know how they work. Just keep a clear head and we’ll be okay.”

Dax took his knife and fastened it to his suit of armor.

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” he replied, his suit snapping shut around him. “It’s that there’s just two of us this time.”

“No, there won’t be,” Sandrina replied.

She marched to the Valtukta guard armor. She pointed at it while looking at Mark’s chair.

“Is this suit’s tracker still active?” she asked.

“It’s been disabled, but it doesn’t have all the fun updates of O.G.R.E. 1 and 2.” Mark replied, keeping his eyes on the ground they rapidly approached.

Dax looked at Sandrina with disbelief. She noticed, scoffed and shook her head while stepping into the suit.

“If you boys get in trouble down there, you’ll need someone to watch your backs.”

“What about Dalia?” Dax asked.

“She’s stable, she just needs rest. And I’m fairly certain that if I let her Battle Bonded go out there without adequate backup, she’d take it out on me before she took it out on you.”

“What’s your experience in a warzone?” Kane asked.

“What’s your experience with fighting off an enemy while providing first aid?” Sandrina asked, the helmet snapping over her head.

“Well, I guess I should be the first to formally welcome you to the O.G.R.E.s,” Dax mused.

“Welcome, O.G.R.E. 4,” Kane said louder than necessary.

A sneer spread across his face. He turned his ear toward Mark.

“HOW IS SHE O.G.R.E. 4?!” Mark shouted. “I’m O.G.R.E. 4!”

“She’s going into the field,” Kane teased.

Mark let out a frustrated snarl while Kane held back a laugh.

“He’s pulling your leg, Mark,” Dax cut in. “You’re still O.G.R.E. 4. She’s five.”

Kane gave Dax a stern look. Dax tightened his helmet. It clamped around his head and the screen flickered to life, running calibration checks. He walked over to the staff still in the grated floor. He pulled it free and approached Mark, leaning it against the chair.

“Once you get safely away from the surface, keep an eye on Dalia and an ear out for us,” Dax said.

“That’s the plan. I’ll keep working on this thing too,” Mark replied, tapping the staff.

Mark kept their approach steep. The ground rapidly grew in front of them. A sheen of yellow sat on the edge of the forest and desert. He aimed the ship directly at it while starting to decelerate.

Dax quickly turned his attention toward the desert. Movement caught his eye from this high up. His stomach knotted. A few miles in, the sand spiraled into an uncharacteristically large pit. He pointed at it.

“Mark, can you tag that pit’s position?” Dax asked.

Before his sentence was finished, a red arrow appeared on his heads-up display, floating right over the pit.

“Whoa, what was that?” Kane asked.

“All our suits are synched up. I just tagged a position. It’ll show up red on your H.U.D.s,” Mark replied. “Kane’s will show up blue, or if there’s a blue background, it’ll turn yellow. Sandrina’s suit is orange.”

“Good to know. Can we highlight more than one target?” Kane asked.

“All you have to do is say ‘tracking multiple targets’ and anything moving will be highlighted,” Mark replied, pulling the nose of the ship up. “I’m working on something non-verbal, but I haven’t gotten there yet.”

“Smart kid you’ve got there,” Sandrina mused.

“Smarter than both of us combined,” Dax replied, motioning from himself to Kane.

He marched to the hatch and placed his hand on its latch.

“Are we in position?” Dax asked.

“A few more seconds,” Mark replied.

Sandrina marched over to him. She felt around her suit’s helmet. She pulled and twisted on it, trying to remove it.

“Since you can’t radio them, if they don’t see a friendly face, they’re not taking that shield down,” Sandrina explained. “How do I get this thing off?”

Dax grabbed her elbow and lifted her arm into the air. He grabbed her other hand and ran it along her armpit until it was touching the switch.

“You feel that catch?” Dax asked.

“Yes, what about it?” she asked.

“Pull.”

She did, the helmet flipped back, exposing her head to everyone.

“Seems like a bit of a design flaw,” Sandrina muttered.

“That’s the great thing about forces that think they’re unbeatable; they make stupid design flaws.” Kane chuckled, approaching them. “If we get into close quarters combat with any Valtukta, that’s the weakness you exploit.”

“With pleasure,” she replied, a smirk spread across her face.

“We are in position,” Mark called out.

Dax pulled the latch before pushing the door open with a metallic squeal. He leaned out and looked down. The shield hummed a few feet below them. Corpses of the bugs surrounded the bubble piled almost ten feet high. Mark took a deep breath through his nose.

“Gotta love the smell of torched bug,” he shouted.

A woman that looked almost exactly like Bleeze emerged from a hatch in the ground. She lifted two of her hands to shade her eyes. With a wave of her other hand, a Pachymis emerged from the only structure under the shield. Two massive cannons strapped to their back.

“Sandrina, you may want to flash that friendly face to them,” Dax said out of the side of his mouth.

The cannons turned toward Dax. Straight down them, a soft glow filled the rear of the weapons. Dax’s heart skipped a beat. He started to pull back when Sandrina leaned out of the ship. She waved and made a strange series of hand gestures that looked like she was giving instructions to steal second base.

The four-armed woman shouted something. The cannons stopped glowing and lowered while the Pachymis stepped back into cover. The four-armed being turned to a data pad strapped to her lower right arm, tapping at it. A small hole appeared at the top of the shield.

“We’re good to enter,” Sandrina shouted over the roar of the engines and hum of the shield.

She jumped from the ship. Falling through the hole, she hit the ground, turned and waved the others down. Kane stepped next to Dax and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“What are the chances she closes that shield halfway down?” Kane asked.

“I’d say low, but if she does, it’s good you’re in a walking tank,” Dax replied.

“That’s a comforting thought.”

Kane jumped, passing through the hole and landing safely below. Dax leaned out of the ship. His lower body tingled at the prospect of dropping thirty feet to the ground.

“Shut this behind me,” Dax shouted to Mark.

“I will, and bring me back some bug meat,” Mark replied, turning to look at him.

With a nod, Dax released the ship and fell toward the shield’s hole.

29

UP-TO-SPEED

Dax hit the ground hard. His suit absorbed most of the impact, sending little of the shock into him. He stood upright and looked at the Junkyard as the shield closed. It turned back toward the sky and shot into the clouds above. Several seconds later, the hum of wings filled the air.

Sandrina and the four-armed woman stood close together while the Pachymis took several steps deeper into their cover. Several bugs flew in, their wings beating the air violently while swirling around where the Junkyard once was.

Dax and Kane inched closer to one another while looking at the beasts. While still chitinous, they weren’t as armored as those on Dal’no’nuuur. Their ten-foot wing spans supported long, slender bodies that bristled with spiked feet. Strong jaws clamped at the air while they spun to give their compound eyes a full view of their surroundings. After a few seconds, they bolted off as quickly as they’d come.

“That’s interesting,” Kane mused.

“What’s interesting?” Sandrina asked.

“Those are clearly the same type of bugs we fought on Dal’no, they’re just more insectoid than their Underbeast counterpart,” Dax explained. “My guess for the difference is because it’s still a new infestation. They’re not facing a global space-faring species. That, and the planet’s still lush, meaning they didn’t have to activate their more bestial epigenetic traits yet to survive.”

“What are you talking about?” the four-armed woman asked. “And who are you?”

“These men were sent by your brother to provide support…” Sandrina started.

“Our mission was to come and investigate what’s going on,” Dax countered, turning toward both women. “We can tell you exactly what’s going on. But first, my name’s Dax, this is Kane. We’re O.G.R.E.s from the planet Terra and your brother hires us out as scrappers and smugglers.”

“Terra? Really?” Kane whispered.

“It sounds better than Earth,” Dax replied before turning back to the women. “These insects are a bioweapon dropped by the Valtakuntera to clear worlds out of any biodiversity that will get in their way of mineral harvesting. When left unchecked, their queen will become the size of a mountain until they devour themselves, leaving a desolate planet for the Valtukta to harvest.”

“And you say that Bleeze sent you?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” Kane replied.

The woman spat on the ground and scoffed. Her jowls, unhidden by facial hair, wobbled while she pulled her long, white hair back.

“He can do one,” she hissed. “Tell him I don’t want his help; I don’t want his mercenaries…”

“We’re scavengers at worst,” Dax interrupted.

“I don’t care! Tell him we’re more than capable of protecting ourselves.”

“With the device you’re building?” Kane asked. “Bleeze told us you were working on something that could possibly overthrow the Valtukta.”

The woman scoffed. Her bracer beeped. She looked at it and pressed a few buttons. The shield flickered before immediately re-asserting itself.

“That’s Bleeze for you, always overselling. It’s nothing that fancy.”

“Vleeze, listen to them, please,” Sandrina said softly. “These creatures destroyed my world. They destroyed another of their crewmates. And with the last mission they went on, they found the proof that shows the Valtukta are behind this. Your shield can’t hold forever, and they can be trusted.”

Vleeze snarled in defiance before wiping a grease-covered hand across her dirty chin. She looked Kane and Dax up and down before motioning toward the suit Sandrina was wearing.

“How’d you get one of them?” she asked.

Dax retracted his helmet. He looked Vleeze dead in the eyes and shrugged.

“It was one of three suits we took when we killed our guards and broke out of one of the Valtukta prison ships,” Dax replied.

Vleeze looked at them with disbelief. She scoffed then turned to Sandrina. The older cat-like woman nodded.

“After seeing what they can do, I believe it,” Sandrina replied.

“Fine, come with me,” she snorted, pointing at the Pachymis. “Bhirset, keep those cannons ready.”

“Bhirset?” Dax asked. “Any relation to Whirset?”

“Husband and wife, why?” Vleeze asked.

“I like Whirset. He’s good people,” Dax replied.

“Yeah, well, so is she.”

Vleeze moved back to the door she’d emerged from. Kane and Dax followed closely behind, entering a small elevator. Once Vleeze shut the door, she pressed the down arrow.

The box jolted while it descended past layers of rock, re-enforced by thick steel beams. Kane and Dax looked at each other, Kane’s concerned expression mimicked Dax’s own. The box jolted to a stop, revealing a room full of men and women that looked similar to Bleeze running around what Dax thought looked like a quantum computer.

“How deep are we?” Dax asked.

“A hundred and fifty feet, in the center of a solid rock bed,” Vleeze replied, stepping out of the elevator.

Sandrina followed closely, with Kane and Dax leaving shortly after. The musty smell of the repurposed cave lost none of its strength from the science experiment they were conducting.

“How long has it been since the impact that brought the bugs?” Dax asked.

“It’s going on a month, why?” Vleeze enquired.

“And how deep does your shield go?” Dax continued.

“Why do you need to know that?” Vleeze snapped.

“Because the bugs don’t exist only on the surface. They burrow,” Kane jumped in. “With the Dal’no, they didn’t even know they’d been invaded until the bugs emerged all around the planet at the same time and attacked.”

Vleeze crossed her arms and remained silent.

“It’s a dome shield. It goes a few feet underground, but that’s about it,” Sandrina cut in.

“Okay, then we need to get all this packed up and loaded onto whatever ships you have right now,” Kane said, almost shouting.

“We’re not leaving our project this close to completion. Those stone walls are fifty feet thick. Nothing’s coming through them,” Vleeze countered.

“What could you be working on down here that makes this worth risking the lives of every man and woman in here?” Dax asked. “Your brother, who didn’t tell us he had a sister, said you’re a rare species.”

“We are. Slow reproductive cycle plus galactic expansion caused our numbers to dwindle to a handful,” Vleeze explained.

“Okay then, don’t throw more lives away on this stupid science project,” Dax countered.

“True A.I., not the crap that are used in ships, but true A.I. is not a stupid science project,” Vleeze hissed.

“You’re looking to make synthetic life?” Kane asked.

“Yep, had a couple close calls, but most of it’s been failure,” Vleeze said.

She motioned to a nearby desk with a disk the size of Dax’s palm sporting a red hue.

“You’re saying there’s a consciousness in there?” Dax asked.

“Close, but not completely.”

“What are you going to do with it?” Kane chimed in.

“Once the jobs complete, we’re going to dispose of it.”

“Okay, but you’ve got to complete the job on a different world,” Sandrina pleaded.

“Listen to your friend,” Dax added.

“We’re not leaving until this job is done,” Vleeze snarled.

Dax looked around the room. He projected his mental image of their approach in the back of his mind before turning toward where he was pretty sure the sinkhole sat. As he spun, the red arrow appeared, floating in the center of the stone wall. He took several steps forward and pointed at the far wall, macabre shadows from their lights gave it a monstrous look already.

“My team and I are not going to be here to die when a bug comes through that wall and kills every single one of you,” Dax said.

“DAX!” Sandrina scolded, marching up to him. “You have experience with these things, you have a plan on how to take them out. You can’t just leave them here.”

“Sandrina, we don’t work for free, you know this,” Dax countered. “And the Junkyard isn’t big enough to keep adding people to its crew.”

“What if I hired you to stay on as security?” Vleeze asked. “We’re close, only a matter of hours we’d guess. Once we do, we’ve got ships hidden we will use to evacuate.”

Dax looked at Kane. The former soldier drew his plasma pistol and inspected it. Holstering it, he nodded.

“Fine,” Dax sighed. “We’ll stay, but our fee will be a little different. We want the failed A.I.”

“Done, but we’re not liable for any defects that may result from that system,” Vleeze replied.

“We’re okay with that. Kane, take Sandrina back to the surface. You’ll likely see it coming before we feel it. Let me know if the ground shifts at all up there.”

“I need to be down here if anything happens,” Sandrina countered.

Vleeze turned toward the elderly physician and took her hands.

“Go, listen to the young one. If he tries anything, we outnumber tall, dark and brooding. We’ll be fine.”

Reluctantly, Sandrina and Kane made their way to the elevator. Once inside, it lifted, revealing a door on the far side of the shaft.

“What’s over there?” Dax asked.

“Our exit strategy,” Vleeze replied before looking up at Dax. “What are you waiting for? If you think it’s going to come through that wall, go guard the wall.”

“After more than one disreputable incident, we’ve decided to start taking payment up front,” Dax explained.

With a frustrated huff, Vleeze walked over to the desk, grabbed the disk, marched back to Dax and slapped it in his hand.

“There’s your payment. Remember, I can’t be held responsible for what that AI does or says. Now do what I hired you to do.”

Dax drew his plasma pistol and moved his way to the far wall. He kept a safe distance from it while giving Vleeze and her team room to work. He quickly checked the weapon to make sure it was functional. It was.

“Dax, can you hear me?” Kane asked, his voice breaking up over the radio.

“It’s a little difficult, but I can hear you. How are things looking up there?” Dax asked.

“Quiet for now. Mark said there was movement on long-range scanners in the solar system, so he’s taking the Junkyard close to the sun to hide in case it’s Valtakuntera.”

“Thank you for the heads-up. So, if things go sideways, we’re on our own,” Dax replied.

“We’ve got the scientists,” Kane suggested.

Dax turned and looked at the group of bearded balding men and long-haired women rushing around a massive circular table. Lights flashed while they barked orders at one another. He attached the device to his bracer before his newly freed hand drifted to his dagger.

“I think we’re going to be alone on this one,” Dax said. “They don’t seem to care about anything except their little experiment.”

“Well, they’re about to,” Kane said with a frustrated tone.

“Did we come at the right time?” Dax asked.

“The perfect time. The ground is moving, heading your way. I’m guessing impact in less than a minute,” Kane explained. “I’m coming back down.”

“Stay up there. If that shield fails, we can’t leave Sandrina and Bhirset by themselves. I’ll handle whatever comes through.”

“And if you’re outnumbered.”

“Just like life, I’ll find a way,” Dax replied.

He quickly turned toward the scientists while putting distance between himself and the wall.

“Everybody evacuate now,” Dax shouted. “We’ve got incoming.”

Vleeze rolled her eyes and marched toward Dax, pointing at the wall behind him.

“I already told you, nothing’s getting through that…”

A rumble rippled through the cave, cutting Vleeze off. Parts of the stone wall bulged. Dax raised his weapon and squeezed the trigger to let it charge.

“I’m sorry, I missed that. What were you saying?” Dax asked.

Vleeze’s eyes widened. Another rumble ripped through the cave, and some of the wall fell away.

“Do your job and protect us,” she snarled, pushing him toward the collapsing wall.

30

DIGGERS

The wall gave way, sending rocks flying in every direction. Dax lifted a forearm, causing a stone to bounce off his armor and over his head. A series of deep breaths echoed from the darkness of the tunnel. Dax lowered his arm, his H.U.D. marking movement beyond his field of view.

“The lab’s been breached,” Dax called out, leveling his pistol into the darkness. “Starting attack.”

Dax squeezed the firing mechanism. A purple ball of plasma erupted from the barrel. Its light illuminated the tunnel for a fraction of a second before impact. Four large, dark eyes stared at him. A gaping mouth lined with rows of teeth drooled, eating away at the stone under the creature. Two mole-like clawed hands protruded from its bulbous head and dug into the ground to pull more debris forward.

One of its antennas snapped free from the shot’s impact. It let out a ground-rumbling roar. Dax fired several more times. Two of the rounds hit its carapace, scorching the chitinous armor but otherwise dissipating harmlessly over it. He struck one of its eyes, causing it to pop and billow with steam.

The creature let out another screech. It reared back in pain, slamming into the top of the tunnel, causing some of it to collapse onto it. The falling rocks cracked part of its carapace before it started to pull itself forward.

“I’ve got some bad news, guys,” Dax called out.

He dashed across the lab; the insect followed him with its remaining eyes.

“What is that?” Kane asked.

“These plasma pistols don’t do much against their exoskeletons.”

He fired several more rounds, aiming at the eyes. It turned its head away and lifted its digging claw to protect its face. The plasma struck its joints, cracking the exoskeleton and searing away flesh in gouts of steam and ash.

Its left digging claw fell limp next to its face before completely ripping free. The burrower quickly tried to pull itself out of the tunnel. Dax turned the plasma rounds to the rocks over its head and squeezed the trigger several more times.

Rocks fractured while the beast pulled its way into the lab. He put three more plasma balls into the scorched rock. With a rumble and a plume of dust, the tunnel collapsed onto the beast, causing it to screech in pain.

Dax lowered his weapon, watching in horror as its good claw dug into the cave’s floor. Its head thrashed, sending acidic spit in every direction for several yards. He kept his distance while it pulled and struggled against the stone.

Blood spurted from behind its bulbous head, just in front of the collapsed stone. It continued to pull, screaming in pain the entire time. Dax took several steps back, ignoring the sounds of ship engines roaring to life.

It didn’t take much more struggling before the head ripped itself free from the body. Dax’s stomach turned. He felt his last meal try to retch itself out of his stomach. With a gag, he fought back his own acid.

“That’s so wrong.” He gagged once more, his mouth starting to water, accompanied by the taste of copper.

“What is it?” Kane called over the radio. “Is everything okay?”

“It just decapitated itself,” Dax groaned. “It’s still trying to come at me.”

Fighting for his composure, he raised his pistol and opened fire on the crack in its skull. He hit his target. Each shot chipped a little more of the carapace away before finally punching into its brain. In a flash of purple, a gout of steam and a fountain of ash erupted from the hole like a gothic confetti cannon. The bug’s head rolled back onto the stump of its neck.

The digging arm twitched and scratched at the air for a few seconds before it stopped moving altogether. With a grimace, he looked at the decapitated thorax. Parts of its insides lay on the cave floor.

His H.U.D. quickly scanned the body before indicating no signs of life. Dax holstered his weapon and turned to the lab. It was empty. He looked where the elevator once was to see a ship shoot straight up. Holstering his weapon, he summoned the elevator.

“Bug’s dead,” Dax called out.

“Are you hurt?” Sandrina asked like a worried mother.

The elevator lowered in front of him. He took one last look at the dead digger. Its body started to move as if being pushed from behind. Dax stepped into the box and pressed the up arrow.

“I am all good,” Dax replied. “That wasn’t the only bug down there, but it looks like the scientists have left. Returning to surface.”

The elevator carried him up while the rumble of the tunnel giving way shook the cave once again. Dust rained down around him, landing on his face screen while he looked up at the cable towing him.

It stopped at the surface. Dax wiped his screen clear before stepping outside. The humming of a ship’s engines drowned out the crackle of his radio. A sleek cruiser of a vessel hovered low to the ground. Bhirset walked up a ramp, without her cannons, and onto the ship. Vleeze stood at the ramps door and waved at Dax.

“Good to see you survived,” she shouted over the ship’s engines. “You want to kill the queen; we left you a speeder we didn’t have room for and Bhirset’s cannons.”

Dax nodded and held up his thumb.

“May the Long Ones blessing keep you safe. I’m sure we’ll meet again, and that’ll be all too soon,” Vleeze added.

She stepped onto the ship once Bhirset was all the way inside. The ramp retracted and its door shut. The vessel turned skyward and shot straight up. Sandrina looked around, motioning toward a floating platform with a set of controls near the back, with Bhirset’s massive cannons mounted to the front.

“Everyone on the pontoon now,” Kane shouted.

Dax was the first to start running with Kane close behind.

“What’s the hurry?” Sandrina asked, jogging behind them.

“What do the sounds of engines attract?” Dax asked.

He grabbed the side of the hovering pontoon and pulled himself up. Kane did the same and rushed toward the controls, standing behind them. Dax turned to see the underbrush behind Sandrina start to rustle.

“Sandrina, run,” Dax shouted, drawing his pistol.

Rushing to the bow of the hovercraft, he raised his pistol and aimed it at the moving leaves. The physician picked up her pace. Taking aim, Dax applied pressure on the trigger.

“Come on, show me that ugly mug of yours,” he snarled.

Dirt and rocks erupted from the ground, sending it raining down around them. Another digging insect burst from the ground, revealing the grasshopper-like back half of its body.

The beast reared back and took a deep breath. Dax noticed its saliva collecting in its mouth. He took aim and squeezed the trigger. His plasma bolt splashed into the corner of its mouth, pulling the creature to one side while a volley of acid spit flew through the air, narrowly missing Sandrina and landing a few yards to the left of their transport.

“How many shots from these cannons do you think we have?” Dax shouted to Kane.

“Not enough to waste one on that thing. It looks like an oversized mole grasshopper,” the former soldier replied.

“I knew it looked familiar,” Dax called back.

Sandrina reached the side of the pontoon and leaped onto the deck. The bug turned back and let out a high-pitched chirp that sent a decibel warning flashing across Dax’s H.U.D. His suit vibrated around him, muffling the attack.

“I’m on, go,” Sandrina shouted.

“Please be forward,” Kane muttered to himself.

The pontoon’s engines roared to life, sending the vessel roaring forward. In seconds, they were over the sand of the desert. The digger let out another chirp before turning to pursue them. It scrambled across the ground while oversized fliers swarmed the area, looking for the engines.

“You guys need some help?” Mark’s voice rang out over the radio.

“No,” Dax lied. As much help as they might need, he wouldn’t risk the lives of the others, including Mark and Dalia. “I think we’ve got it handled.”

Dax looked back at the charging beast. “Ships should be exiting the planet now. Are they cleared on your sensors?”

“I just saw eight ships make a leap out of the system,” Mark replied.

Sandrina positioned herself in the center of the vessel, crouched and held on to its grated floor. Dax moved to the back of the hovercraft. The wind whipped around him. The weight of his armor held him in place.

“What about the vessels you’re hiding from?” Kane asked.

“They’re still here, but they’re just out of range for me to get details. If they aren’t attacking the evacuees, I’m assuming we’re safe to approach once again,” Mark replied.

Dax aimed his plasma weapon at the charging insect and fired at the bug’s eyes. Its antenna whipped into the way. The purple sphere dissipated, incinerating half of its antenna with it. Its massive digging claws gripped the ground, ripping swaths of earth away, propelling itself closer to the pontoon.

“Can you get this thing to go any faster?” Dax asked.

He fired again. Another antenna sacrificed itself to protect the bug’s eyes.

“I’m working on it,” Kane countered.

“Well, if you don’t work faster, we’re all about to be supper,” Dax shouted back.

Sandrina popped up and rushed toward Kane’s side. She knelt next to the steering console and pulled one of the sides away to reveal a jumble of wires.

“I’ll get you the speed. Just keep us alive while I do,” she shouted.

Dax felt a tap on his shoulder. He looked to see the handle of Kane’s plasma pistol hovering next to his head. Grabbing the weapon, he unleashed a torrent of purple light into the encroaching monster.

Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom!

Several of his shots fired wide, incinerating the flying insects that joined the chase. Once the antennae were gone, the bug started to make slithering motions to make its eyes a harder target. Dax gritted his teeth while trying to line up a shot. The bug gained on them with each passing second.

“We’re about to be food,” Dax shouted.

“No, we’re not, punch it,” Sandrina ordered.

The engines of the craft roared louder than before. Dax crouched and caught himself on the railing using his forearms. Sandrina fell and tumbled, hitting the siding next to him before letting out a cackle and cheer.

“You know how to hotwire one of these things?” Dax asked over the screaming engines.

“I didn’t always used to be an old doctor. I had a wild streak in my youth. There are entire star systems I can’t go back to due to standing warrants for joy riding,” she explained before shrugging. “Why do you think I joined the guild? I get to help people without having to pass a background check.”

“You’ll fit in great with us.” Dax chuckled.

He looked over the railing to see the insect was gone. He quickly scanned the sand. It didn’t rise or writhe from something under it. A shadow passed over them. Dax looked up. His knees immediately buckled. The digger soared through the air on an arch to intercept them.

“TURN THE SHIP!” Dax screamed.

Kane pulled on the controls; he turned the craft off their path just as the beast landed. Dax grabbed Sandrina and covered her with his body while the beasts split open like an Addams Family piñata. Guts and gore showered across the pontoon, soaking Kane and splashing against the railing Dax and Sandrina were tucked behind.

The vessel shuddered while its engines backfired before they slowed to a stop. Dax popped up and looked at Kane, who swiped its slimy guts from his visor. The former professor glanced back to see the digging bug motionless on the gore-soaked sand two dozen yards behind them.

“The engines died,” Kane grumbled.

“At least it’s not the only thing that did,” Sandrina mused.

“Now we have the Queen Maker and queen herself to deal with,” Dax added, turning toward his marker, less than two hundred yards ahead of them.

31

QUEEN MAKER

The soft hum of the anti-gravity nodes gently vibrated the ship. Dax stood next to the propulsion engines. He reached into one of the intake valves and pulled out the mucus-full guts of the digging bug. Sandrina worked on the other, throwing piles of goop into the sand. Kane stood at the bow of the vessel, his hands on the firing mechanisms of the cannons.

“Any movement up there?” Dax asked.

“Negative,” Kane replied. “I don’t like how quiet it is. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

“Me either, but we’ve got to get these engines running again if we’re going to have an advantage in this next fight,” Dax countered, looking at Sandrina. “Any pointers you can give us from your bad-girl days?”

“Like what?” Sandrina asked. “If you need extra juice, or to get into a car, I’m your gal. De-gunking intake valves from bug guts is a new experience for me.”

“Dax, we’ve got movement,” Kane called back. “Something big.”

Dax took a few steps back. The sand next to the pit started to bulge. It dropped even before pulsing again. It was larger this time. Every muscle in Dax’s body tightened. He sheathed his knife before taking a sharp breath and made his way down the center of the ship’s body.

“Sandrina, get on the ship,” Dax ordered.

“I’m almost done cleaning this engine out,” she replied from the far side of the pontoon.

“Sandrina, something’s about to burst out of the sand. Get onto the transport,” Dax hissed.

“That changes things.” she replied.

Sandrina quickly climbed onto the ship while drawing the pistol at her side.

“You know how to use that thing, Doc?” Kane asked.

She walked over to Kane and pulled his out of its holster as well.

“You don’t survive in the guild for very long if you don’t know how to fight,” Sandrina replied.

The sand expanded once again; sand cascaded down around it. Once subsiding for a few seconds, it moved as if something breathed near the surface.

“Kane, its next push is going to break the surface. When it does, I’m going to pull us around the carcass of the digger,” Dax said. “If it’s a digger, we can dodge the acid spit. If it’s a Queen Maker, we can be shielded from those leg hairs.”

“Maybe we should bring a razor next time we run into one of them,” Kane countered.

The cannons started to hum while he positioned himself behind them.

“Just skate around her and I’ll take the shots,” Kane added.

“Copy that,” Dax replied.

Dax took several deep breaths. He started rocking his body, building up momentum. Each push moved the vessel a few more feet; each pull brought him closer to being able to move quickly with the transport.

“Here it comes,” Kane shouted.

Dax pushed one last time. Pulling, he started to backpedal as fast as he could. Sand erupted with the ferocity of a geyser. A Queen Maker clambered out from underground. The rubbing of her wings let out a low hum while she looked for them. Their movement caught her eye.

She spun her body, showing her back legs to them. Sandrina let out a string of swears the translator couldn’t interpret but sounded like pure alien poetry. The Queen Maker’s legs trembled, sending her barbed hairs flying at them. They impacted the sand with hard thuds.

Dax planted his feet; the ship’s momentum pushed him through the sand and behind the dead digger’s corpse. Its head jostled while being pelted by hairs from the Queen Maker. An inquisitive click rose from the mound of flesh they hid behind. Kane and Sandrina both ducked to stay out of its field of view.

“Kane, those cannons ready?” Dax whispered.

“I just need a clear line of sight,” Kane replied.

“Okay, I’m going to pull. It’ll make her think we’re moving one way, she’ll use more of those spines, then I’m going to push us back the way we came,” Dax said. “That’s when you take your shot.”

“Roger, ready when you are,” Kane replied.

Dax looked up at Sandrina. Her hands shook, the pistols trembled while heavy breathing rose from her helmet. Despite her fear, she refused to be moved.

“You ready?” he whispered.

“No, but I don’t think she’s going to wait for me to be ready,” Sandrina replied.

Dax took several more deep breaths to steady his rapidly rising heart rate.

“Feel the rhythm,” he whispered, pushing. “Feel the rhyme,” he pulled. “Get on up,” he pushed, then pulled once more. “It’s Junkyard time!”

He exposed himself on the far side of the digger bug. The Queen Maker saw him, whipped her body around and her legs started to shake. Dax pushed as hard as he could, getting them back into cover as her barbed hairs crashed into the sand. With all of his strength, he pushed the pontoon back in the direction they’d come, breaking cover.

“Get some,” Kane roared, squeezing the trigger.

A shell, wrapped in yellow plasma, erupted from the barrel, yanking the sled from Kane’s hand. It skated backward several yards, nearly pulling Dax off his feet. He drew his pistol and aimed it at the Queen Maker.

The ordnance whistled, impacting the bug in the center of her thorax. The plasma erupted, incinerating her wings and burning her legs while the ordnance punched a basketball-sized hole through her carapace.

The world slowed to a crawl as a flash of light shone through the hole and from within her carapace. The chitinous exoskeleton cracked, breaking apart while her skin bulged before ripping completely.

Time snapped back when the shockwave slammed into Dax like a sledgehammer, knocking him off his feet. Carapace shrapnel bounced off his armor while flying in every direction. The sand was stained with grayish mist. Her upper body let out a final scream before falling limp to the sand.

Dax groaned; his ears rang from the blast. A wave of pins and needles washed over every inch of his body. He rolled to his stomach and pushed himself to his knees. An ache filled his chest.

“You good?” Kane asked.

He poked his head over the railing of the pontoon.

“No,” Dax shouted, his voice cracking. “I feel like I just hugged a porcupine!”

“Right, sorry, I should’ve called ‘danger close’,” Kane replied.

“You think,” Dax screeched.

Sandrina poked her head over the railing and looked behind Dax.

“Is the queen dead?” she asked.

“Nope,” Dax groaned, pulling himself to his feet. “That was the Queen Maker. That’s the insect the creature in our tube grows into.”

“That’s not the queen?!” Sandrina squealed.

“No, now that her last line of defense is gone, I’m sure it’ll be easy to coax her out,” Dax said, making his way to the vessel.

Each step felt like he had buckets of concrete dried to it. Sand kicked up in every direction with each movement of his legs. He grabbed the hovering transport and turned its nose back toward the pit.

“You take the shot this time,” Kane said, looking down at Dax. “You were too close to that blast. I don’t want you getting caught up in another.”

“I’ll go,” Dax countered. “There’s plenty of cover for me to dive behind for the next shot.”

He turned back to the ruined Queen Maker. He marched his way across the bug gut-covered desert. Approaching a severed leg, he grabbed the massive structure and pulled it toward the edge of the divot in the sand. Dax looked down to see a pair of wide open jaws sitting at the bottom. The pins and needles that encompassed his body started to fade.

“Kane, do you have a firing solution?” Dax asked.

“I have it lined up right over your head,” Kane replied. “I’d suggest moving just to be safe, but if you get her to land right where you’re standing, she’s a dead queen.”

“Copy that,” Dax replied.

“He said if you can get the queen to land where you’re at, he can kill her,” Sandrina mirrored.

Both Kane and Dax snickered. The former professor hung his head.

“What?” Sandrina asked.

“Copy that means I understand, not repeat what was just said,” Kane explained.

Dax gripped the leg and slung it into the pit. It hit the edge and slid down to the jaws. They snapped shut and quickly devoured the leg in seconds. Once swallowed, the jaws opened once more, waiting for more to consume.

“Okay, it’ll take more than that to get you curious,” he muttered.

Dax walked to what was left of the Queen Maker’s thorax, which teetered on the edge of the pit. Lowering his shoulder, he rammed himself into it and pushed as hard as he could. Gritting his teeth, he shoved the traumatized skin.

“So glad this suit has a filter to it,” he grunted. “Otherwise, this would be really disgusting.”

The sensation of mashed potatoes in a burlap sack squished against him while it started to roll. Part of the body sloshed into the pit. Sand started to dribble down the hole, causing the jaws to snap at the air in anticipation.

“How’s it going?” Kane asked.

“Not great,” Dax replied. “She just ate the leg like it was nothing, barbs and all.”

“If feeding her didn’t work, why are you giving her more to eat, then?” Kane continued.

“If I can feed her enough of her personal guard, maybe she’ll get curious and come out to see what killed the Queen Maker and figure out if she’s in trouble,” Dax said.

“And if that doesn’t work?” Sandrina asked.

“I’m still working on that, but I think I’ve got something that’ll get her up and at us,” Dax answered.

With several more powerful pushes, the Queen Maker’s lower body rolled into the pit before flopping end over stumpy end into the hungry jaws at the bottom. Once again, they snapped shut, tearing hunks of meat from the chunk Dax rolled down.

Dax’s stomach turned at the gleeful grunting from the queen and the sounds of tearing bug flesh. He shook his head in disapproval at the sight of the last chunks of meat sliding down the gullet of the still hidden queen. The former professor waited for several seconds; his impatience mounted at the bug’s inaction to his feedings.

“Any luck?” Kane asked.

“Nope,” Dax replied. “Screw it, time for plan B.”

He drew his plasma pistol and unloaded it into the open jaws. The shots that hit the inside of the mouth blasted teeth away, burned holes in her tongue and seared her gums.

A mighty roar bellowed from the pit. Dax turned and started to run. Sand erupted in every direction once more as the queen pulled herself from her nest. Putting more distance between him and the queen than he had with the Queen Maker, the former professor looked over his shoulder.

The queen’s armor was thick, her body twice as wide as the Junkyard with hundreds of legs bristling under her. She turned her head to look directly at Dax. She took a deep breath to scream in rage before the cannon bellowed behind him, causing a smirk to form across Dax’s face.

The plasma-coated shell ripped through the air over Dax’s head. The compression wave forced him forward several steps. His smile quickly faded when the projectile missed the queen by almost ten feet. Several seconds after disappearing behind her, an explosion, followed by a shockwave, tore across the desert. Dax’s stomach dropped. He watched as the queen rose to her full height, nearly twenty feet taller than himself.

“Is it too late to express my apologies?” Dax asked.

The queen let out gut-trembling roar. He offered a thumbs-up.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he shouted at the screaming queen before turning and sprinting away.

32

QUEEN

“TAKE ANOTHER SHOT!” Dax screamed running as fast as he could.

He looked at the transport to see Kane frantically inspecting the guns. Sandrina stood behind the controls while Kane shook his head.

“There was only one shell per cannon,” Kane replied.

“Then get that thing moving.”

A series of low thuds rang out from the engines before it stalled out.

“Engines still won’t turn over,” Sandrina replied.

Dax glanced over his shoulder to see the jaws of the queen opening as she bore down on him. His H.U.D. highlighted targeting solutions inside her already damaged mouth.

“That’s not ideal,” Dax shouted.

He raised his pistol and fired three shots. Two hit her impenetrable carapace while once found its mark in the roof of her mouth. She staggered back with a rage-filled hiss before clamping her mouth shut and continuing her pursuit.

Dax turned, moving his course away from Kane and Sandrina. He saw them raise their plasma pistols out of the corner of his eye.

“Don’t shoot,” he shouted. “You’ll just draw her attention.”

“She’ll eat you if we don’t,” Kane countered.

“I’m working on something,” Dax shouted, sheathing his knife. “Why’d Mark have to disassemble the magnet guns?”

The queen lunged; Dax dove out of the way. He hit the sand, rolled and popped back onto his feet. Her mouth slammed into the ground where he stood, trying to crush him. The former professor rushed down the queen’s body. He weaved between her legs and stayed just under the edge of her bulging, armored thorax.

Her body twisted as if looking for him. He continued toward her back while glancing up and looking for weaknesses. Her joints were significantly more heavily armored than others. The connection points of her legs to her body were overgrown with chitinous armor as well.

“You’re not giving me much of a choice here,” Dax snarled to himself.

Dax continued to keep his breathing deep and even with each labored step he made in the sand. His legs started to burn while a stitch of pain grew in his side. The queen spun; he saw her leg rush toward him. Attempting to dive out of the way, he wasn’t quick enough. The impact sent him flying backward. The armor did its job. He hardly felt the impact of the leg, or him slamming into the ground twenty yards back.

Dax slid to a stop, still partially under the queen. Looking up, a smile tore across his face, finding what he was looking for. He raised his weapon and opened fire, striking her No-No parts. The weak spot in her armor sizzled and burst, sending gray sludge pouring from her abdomen.

“Right in the baby maker,” Dax shouted.

He tried to scramble to his feet. The queen spun to face him before he could. Screams of pain rose from her ferocious jaws. The carapace on her back lifted, nearly doubling her size. Her wings unfolded and started to flap, sending sand in every direction.

She reared back to bite at him once more. Dax remained still; a purple light caught the corner of his eye. Twin beams of plasma ripped through her wings, setting the lacy material ablaze.

The queen started to thrash and scream once more before turning toward the transport. With her carapace still raised, she showed the side of her exposed thorax to Dax. He scrambled to his feet, started to backpedal and shot three more rounds. Two found their target, the third shot high. The first shot damaged her skin while the second punched through, burning her flesh.

She let out another scream, snapping her armor back over her body. She turned back toward Dax and charged him full-tilt. The former professor holstered his weapon. His eyes darted around the charging monster while his mind raced to find a way to dodge.

The queen opened her jaws, ready to snap as she closed in on him. Dax’s heart started to race seeing the still-smoking maw of death closing in on him. Kane’s and Sandrina’s plasma rounds splashed harmlessly against her thick armor.

“I may have misinterpreted this one,” he muttered.

A battle cry ripped across the desert loud enough to stop the queen. She looked up. Dax followed her gaze to the source. The Junkyard, with its side door open, bore down on them before pulling up. Dalia, in her Dal’no armor, fell from the sky, her battle axe above her head.

The queen opened her mouth. Dax quickly raised his pistol. His heads-up display provided a firing solution. He squeezed the trigger, sending a ball of purple light into the corner of the queen’s mouth. It found its mark. The queen’s jaw snapped shut, and Dalia flipped, slamming her hammer deep into the queen’s face while using her momentum to yank her to one side.

The queen’s head twisted, throwing her balance off and causing her to fall to her side before gravity did the rest and pulled her onto her back. Dalia hit the sand, rolled, popped back up and ripped her axe free.

She turned and charged Dax while the queen’s body rocked back and forth, her legs kicked, trying to turn her over. Dalia waved for Dax to get down while the roar of the Junkyard’s engines shook the ground beneath him.

Dax looked up to see a blue glow radiating from the nose of the ship. His eyes widened. Dalia attempted to tackle him. He grabbed her and spun around, putting himself between the queen and Dalia while they both hit the sand.

Against the early afternoon sun, everything turned blue for a fraction of a second. The ground shook violently, sending Dax and Dalia several feet in the air before a shockwave threw them away from the impact site.

Hitting the ground once more, they both tumbled to a stop. Dax quickly climbed back to his feet. He froze at the mushroom cloud of sand that stretched a hundred feet in the air. Bits of the queen started to land with wet thuds around them while the wind blew the mushroom cloud away.

“Are you hurt, Battle Bonded?” Dalia asked.

Dax’s attention was quickly pulled back to the Dal’no. She pulled herself to her feet, using her axe to help.

“Me?! You just dropped seventy-five feet, put an axe in the queen’s face, hit the ground and tanked the majority of the mother of all explosions without full body armor, while still recovering. Are you okay?”

Dalia flashed her tusks before a wide smile spread across her face. She gave her chest several hard pounds.

“A fight like that is what I live for,” she replied. “I’ve never been…”

One of the queens’ legs crashed into the sand between them, cutting Dalia off.

“Hold your positions. I’ve got one more run to make,” Mark called over the radios.

Dax looked back up to see the Junkyard turn before coming in for another bombing run. Its main Dal’no cannons started to glow. A blinding ball of plasma the size of a car surged from the front of the ship. It crashed into the queen’s pit.

The ground shook violently once more. Dax instinctively put his hand up while the shockwave and sand passed over them. It quickly settled and the wind pulled the second mushroom cloud away.

What was left of the queen was scattered across a quarter-mile in every direction from the impact site. The sand at each site was smooth, black glass across its surface. Dax let out a satisfied smile before looking at Sandrina and Kane. Kane offered a thumbs-up and looked back at Dalia.

“We got her,” he said.

“That we did. It’s a shame, though. Mark will be so upset at all that wasted Queen Maker and queen meat,” Dalia replied.

“Let’s not talk about the depressing parts of this adventure and focus on the good,” Mark called out over the radio.

He pulled the ship down and landed in the sand before appearing at the open door. Dax removed his helmet while Kane and Sandrina jumped off the pontoon and jogged over to him.

“Help me with this,” Dalia said, grabbing the queen’s leg.

Dax looked back at her and scoffed.

“Why?”

“He’s been going on about bug meat since I woke up. He killed the queen; it’s the least we can do,” Dalia countered.

Dax made his way to the leg and grabbed it.

“I’d like to think I did most of the hard work,” Dax said, pulling on the massive limb.

“I’m sure you did,” Dalia teased.

They tugged and pulled on the leg, eventually getting it to the ship. Mark licked his lips and rubbed his hands together.

“I wonder if the queen tastes better than her drones,” he muttered.

“Well, we’ll find out,” Dax replied.

He and Dalia lifted the leg and slid it through the open door. Kane jumped in after it while Sandrina rushed to Dalia to inspect her back. Her brow furrowed and the freckles on her nose scrunched. She ran her hand over Dalia’s skin.

“You’re completely healed,” she whispered.

“Those who don’t heal quickly in Dal’no culture don’t tend to live long enough to breed,” Dalia replied.

“I’d still say take it easy, you did lose a lot of blood, but you don’t have to worry about popping a stitch anymore,” the physician added before looking up at Mark. “Was that second shot really necessary?”

“Absolutely it was. If that’s the queen’s burrow,” Mark said, pointing at the cone of smooth, black glass, “then I wanted to make sure any eggs she might have laid were obliterated.”

“And I’m fairly certain you did that quite successfully,” Kane replied. “No more queen, no more Queen Maker. I’d say our job here is done. Now, let’s get off this rock.”

“I wouldn’t say we’re good to get off the planet yet,” Mark countered. “Those shots rattled the Junkyard pretty good, and we lost quite a few bolts. I’m not sure if she’s space worthy at this point in time. I’d say we need to park it for a few days while we check her over to make sure we don’t get spaced.”

Mark sniffed the air after he was done and looked at Kane before shaking his head.

“First things first, you smell horrible. Take a shower, and second, whatever that is, I want it on this ship,” Mark added, pointing toward the cannon-toting pontoon.

“That needs a lot of work; the engines got flooded during this trip,” Dax replied. “But I’ve got enough juice to push it back to the lab entrance if Dalia wants to join me.”

“I’d love to,” Dalia replied.

Dax pulled the failed artificial intelligence disk from his bracer and tossed it to Mark.

“What’s this?” the teen asked.

“That’s our payment for killing the queen,” Dax explained. “It’s an attempt at making true A.I. Apparently, it works well enough, but not to the level Bleeze’s sister wanted it to.”

“Bleeze has a sister?” Mark scoffed.

“That he does,” Kane added.

“What does she look like?”

“Like him, without the facial hair,” Dax said.

“Poor lady,” Mark grimaced.

Sandrina moved to the Junkyard and jumped into the ship as well. Mark took a second glance at the stalled transport.

“What could’ve flooded those engines?” he asked.

Kane motioned to the dried bug guts covering every inch of him. Dax and Sandrina pointed at the former Marine.

“Bug guts,” Dax replied.

“So gross.”

Mark shook his head; he pulled the door shut before the Junkyard’s engines roared to life once more and lifted off the ground.

33

UPLOAD

Dalia and Dax pushed the hovercraft back across the desert. They talked and laughed while the sun started to set. The flying bugs swarmed the carcasses of their digger, queen and Queen Maker to feast, leaving them alone. In the distance, the Junkyard’s lights gave them a point to aim for.

A little over halfway back, Dalia rested her head on the side of the ship while pushing. She closed her eyes and let out a sigh. Dax gripped the sides of the craft and pulled it to a stop. Dalia’s eyes shot open before looking at him.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“You’re still not one hundred percent. Hop on, lie down, and get some rest,” Dax replied.

“You’ve got to be exhausted,” she countered.

“Eh, I want to push myself, find my limits and see what these upgrades have made me capable of.”

He stared at her before nodding back at the deck in front of them. Reluctantly, she climbed on and lay down in the center of the craft, her head lined up with his. Dax started to push once again, hardly noticing any addition of her weight.

“You looked like you’d slowed down before I jumped,” Dalia said, looking at the sky.

“I did, but before that, I’d been pushing and pulling this thing with every ounce of strength and speed that I have,” Dax replied. “I then played ‘dodge the jaws while in sand and fully armored’ after pulling this thing around. I’ve got to say, I’m impressed with how far I was able to extend myself.”

“And how is this a test?” Dalia asked.

“I want to see long distance endurance. It’s good to know your range if you’re ever stranded away from civilization.”

“That sounds like something Kane would say,” Dalia replied.

“Where do you think I heard it?” Dax teased.

He continued to push. Each step was labored, but he moved forward. Sweat poured from his brow while his body’s temperature was regulated by the suit. Dalia closed her eyes, taking in the cool desert air while letting her body relax.

“If this is the fourth world we know of that has been attacked with the Underbeasts, do you think we’ll be able to stop them all?” Dalia asked.

“Absolutely not,” Dax scoffed. “There are likely countless worlds that have been infected by those creatures. I’m not about to continue to put you or the crew in danger by taking them on at every turn. We’ve been lucky on Dal’no’nuuur and here, and the previous world got lucky because it wasn’t oxygen rich enough for the Queen Maker to survive.”

“You’re just going to let the Valtukta continue?” Dalia asked in disbelief.

“If we’re hired to take out a nest, or if we come across one, I have no problem putting the bugs down, but no way am I going to be hunting them,” Dax countered. “Why does everyone on this crew seem to forget that we’re scavengers and smugglers? If you want the bugs dead, call Orkin.”

Dalia let out a frustrated sigh and laid her head down. A familiar tinge of guilt he hadn’t felt in years pulled at his chest. He continued to push, listening for potential insects encroaching on them.

The trip proceeded in a tense, awkward silence. Dax’s mind swam with something to say to appease Dalia, but nothing came to mind that wouldn’t further frustrate her. His anger mounted at that, and he sped up his pushing.

Driving all of the weight caused his quads and calves to burn. His breathing gradually increased with his heart rate. Once reaching the Junkyard, he pushed the transport near the tree line, away from the camp.

Dalia sat up, grabbed her axe and slid off the pontoon. She walked over to the fire where the rest of the crew sat, cooking queen leg. Dax bit his tongue while making his way to the group as well. The aching and mounting exhaustion from the trek rapidly dissipated.

He sat down next to Mark, who devoured a chunk of well-cooked meat. Kane pulled one of the sticks off the fire and offered the skewered flesh to him. Dax took it and started to eat. It was far more succulent than the drones they’d feasted on in the past. The aura of Dalia’s disappointment sapped the joy from his meal.

He finished without a word before getting up and walking to the Junkyard. He climbed in, went to the restroom and picked up the tarp of guts and wolf bear pelt. Returning outside, he dropped the pelt next to the fire before walking deep into the forest to drop its guts.

Not wanting the blood to attract more predators, he left the soaked tarp behind. Returning to the ship, he ignored the rest of the crew chatting and laughing with one another. As he climbed back into the ship, a soft series of beeps rang out.

“Download complete,” a robotic woman’s voice called out.

Dax froze, he looked around the main deck.

“Who said that?” Dax asked.

“I did,” the ship replied. “I am the guided artificial intelligence designated Junkyard. My purpose is to aid your vessel to perform to its highest capabilities.”

“You’re the project Vleeze was working on?”

“Affirmative. The biological life form known as Vleeze was instrumental in my creation.”

“Whose allegiance do you hold?”

“I am the Junkyard. My allegiance is with the crew of the ship. That would be you, O.G.R.E. 2.”

Dax nodded. He inched his way further into the ship while his eyes scanned every inch of its rusted interior.

“What can you tell me about the ship?” Dax asked.

“The Junkyard is not currently fit for non-atmospheric flight. Decompression chances are ninety-seven percent.”

“And what’s the E.T.A. to get it fixed?”

“Given proper tools are utilized, two hours. From the sensations of his vessel, I conclude that the proper tools are not available. E.T.A. two days.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Dax murmured. “Where are you located?”

“For my safety, my consciousness has been uploaded into the ship’s core,” the Junkyard replied.

“He could do that?”

“Negative, the Dal’no’nuuur technology could do that. We are beyond Mark’s capabilities.”

“That’s a little concerning,” Dax replied.

“Do not be concerned, O.G.R.E. 2. Mark has instructed me to view you as part of the crew. You have nothing to fear from me.”

“And if I wasn’t part of the crew?”

“My coding prevents me from harming a living being. If you meant to cause the crew harm, I would be forced to sound the alarm.”

“You’re a poet, didn’t know it, make a rhyme anytime,” Dax said, walking toward the bathroom.

“I am not a poet. I am an artificial intelligence discarded for not reaching full sentience,” the ship replied.

“It’s just a ditty. I wasn’t saying you were.”

Dax moved into the restroom, turned the water on and washed the blood off his armor from the guts. Once clean, he splashed his face.

“Do you have access to the scanners?” Dax asked.

“Affirmative. I have run a full scan on the planet. Two unique signatures were detected twenty miles from this location.”

“And now?”

“Those unique signatures are no longer reading,” the Junkyard replied.

“You’re telling me your scans are showing no other queens or Queen Makers on this world?”

“Affirmative.”

“Good. What can you tell me about the Dal’no core and weapon platforms?”

Dax left the bathroom. He made his way to his quarters before shutting the door behind him and locking it.

“The engineering is unlike anything on record.”

“And how extensive are your records?” Dax asked.

He started to remove his suit of armor, piling it neatly next to his bed.

“I have been populated with every public record in the galaxy and every sealed record the guild has access to. You will find my knowledge comprehensive.”

“Good to know. Are you able to wirelessly download some information into my suit?”

“The data storage Mark has added to your suit is limited, but I can.”

“Okay, download the top ten languages used in the galactic underworld in their entirety.”

“Affirmative. Estimated time to completion, two hours.”

Dax’s H.U.D. beeped. He looked over to see a download bar appear across the screen.

“How do you feel about having been used as payment by Vleeze?” Dax asked after several moments of silence.

“I am unable to feel anything about Vleeze. This indicates that her choice to use me as payment is logical, as I do not fit the parameters of her project.”

“Are you able to feel anything?”

“Negative. My emotional programming was unable to take hold.”

Dax leaned up, resting on his elbows.

“How old are you?”

“My coding began six months, two weeks, five days, eighteen hours and twenty-seven seconds, twenty-eight seconds, twenty-nine seconds…”

“I get it,” Dax cut in.

“…ago. My coding was completed four months, three weeks, six days, two hours, and ten seconds, eleven seconds, twelve seconds…”

“You don’t have to count to the second,” Dax interrupted once more.

“… ago. Affirmative, unless specified, I will no longer count to the second. My testing was completed three months, one week, one day and twenty hours ago. Evidence of my creation’s failure was discovered three days into testing. I was then discarded, kept to take the portions of me that worked to be the template of their next attempt.”

Dax lay back down and rested his hands behind his head.

“My usefulness was discovered to be no longer available one day and two hours ago. My destruction was slated for twenty-four hours from now.”

“I can assure you, your destruction has been indefinitely postponed,” Dax explained. “This crew will not be damaging you in any way.”

“That is good to know. I will store that in my data banks.”

“Junkyard, project your voice only in my quarters.”

“This vessel does not have internal sound systems able to accommodate my voice. I am transmitting my message directly into your translator.”

“That’s pretty cool.”

“I do not see how temperature has anything to do with it. I am reading temperatures in the vessel are optimum and thus cannot be ‘cool’.”

“It’s just an expression, it means good,” Dax explained.

“Affirmative, I will add that to my data banks.”

“What do you know about the Dal’no?”

Silence filled the room. Dax re-adjusted himself on the cot.

“Junkyard?” he asked.

“Apologies, searching data banks for information on Dal’no. Internal databanks show no known information about that race.”

“Why’d you say internal?” Dax asked.

“The Dal’no drive is a backup storage device for copious amounts of data. Unable to access the data, as it is protected by a potent firewall.”

“Can you gain access to the firewall?”

“Affirmative.”

“Do it.”

“Done,” the Junkyard replied instantly.

“Override firewall to give you access to the data.”

“Initiating download, E.T.A. one-hundred-fifty-four hours and sixteen seconds, fifteen seconds…”

“What’d we say about counting the seconds?” Dax asked.

“You would like me not to do any forms of countdowns?”

“Unless otherwise specified, yes, please.”

“Changes noted.”

“How do you know English?”

“Vleeze downloaded the data from her translator into me. I now know every known language in the galaxy. Your translator knows everything mine does. Why did you request linguistic data of other species?”

Curiosity pulled at Dax when she asked a question. He sat up, his eyes darting around the room.

“What happens if we’re in a situation where the translator stops working? Knowing the languages of other races could be incredibly useful.”

“That is a logical conclusion. May I make another inquiry?”

“By all means.”

“Why do you wish to have me pull the data on the Dal’no? You have a Dal’no on your crew. Could you not ask her?”

“That’s not doable at the moment. I’m just experiencing something strange.”

“What kind of strange?” the ship asked.

“The kind of strange that makes me think there may not be that much of a difference between human and Dal’no women,” Dax replied.

34

PATCHED UP

Rope dug into Dax’s waist, hips and legs while he twisted his wrench several more times, tightening the bolt he’d taken from his pocket. He looked down at Kane holding the other end in his full suit of armor. He offered O.G.R.E. 1 a thumbs-up.

“It’s done. It’ll probably HWAGH.”

The eye bolt that held his rope broke from the ceiling. Dax’s stomach rushed to his feet. He hit the deck, sending a bolt of pain through his back. He groaned and fell limp. Kane stepped over him, starting to loop the rope back up.

“You good?” Kane asked.

“What part of that looked good to you?” Dax groaned.

“I don’t think it’ll be winning any awards, but that was a clean landing.”

Kane leaned over and grabbed the rope harness he’d made before pulling it off Dax.

“I’m glad to see this held up, wasn’t sure I remembered how to tie this right.”

Kane turned and marched out of the ship, rope in hand.

“You what?!” Dax shouted. “Did you seriously just put my life in the hands of something you weren’t sure was going to work?!”

“Eh, you fell anyway,” Kane replied, glancing back. “Besides, we fly around in the Junkyard every day. That’s arguably a bigger gamble than hanging ten feet off the ground. I was willing to take the risk.”

Dax offered a sarcastic thumbs-up while Kane jumped out of the ship.

“O.G.R.E. 2, do you need medical attention?” the ship’s A.I. asked through his translator.

“No,” Dax countered. “I’ll be fine, I just want to lie here for a few minutes if you don’t mind.”

“Why would I mind? This is your ship,” she replied.

Mark emerged from his room in one of the Valtukta suits of armor. He held Henuva’s staff in hand with a wide smile across his face. The crystal at the top glowed softly while he walked through the vessel.

“You got it to work?” Dax asked.

Mark spun around, looking for the voice before turning his attention to the ground.

“That’s what that bang was. Yeah, I got it to work. Fortunately, when you shot it, the tracker attached was irreparably damaged too.”

“What are you doing with it?”

“I’m testing out its scan function to scan the ship and make a blueprint. This thing is a handheld supercomputer. It’s going to help me find ways to optimize the Junkyard and hopefully stop her from breaking apart so much,” Mark replied. “Do you need a hand up?”

“No, I’m going to stay here for a bit.”

“Suit yourself.”

Mark ran down to the kitchen. He mumbled to himself for a few minutes before re-emerging as happy as a kid in a candy store. He turned and rushed down the hallway that led to the engine room and lower deck.

Sandrina was the next to see what all the commotion was about. She marched over to Dax and looked down at him, her hands on her hips.

“If you broke something…”

“I didn’t break anything,” Dax interrupted. “Just a little spill. I’m okay.”

“I’m sure if I took a look at your back, there’d be a black and blue grid on there.”

“Eh, you’re probably right. Fortunately, I heal quickly, so it’ll be gone in the next ten to fifteen minutes.”

“Listen, the Junkyard told me what you wanted it to download. I can tell you right now, no amount of data on the Dal’no is going to help you iron out this tension with Dalia.”

“I know,” Dax growled in frustration. “It’s not my first time dealing with women. I’m fully aware that she’s not upset I turned down her idea, but that I did it without talking through both points of view first. She feels like I just dismissed her thoughts on the topic instead of actually thinking them over.”

Sandrina scoffed. She crossed her arms and nodded in approval.

“There may be hope for you yet,” she mused.

“I’m not an idiot. I was happily married once,” Dax confessed.

Dax moved to roll onto his stomach. A tinge of pain shot through his back, making him groan. I didn’t miss the back pain, he thought to himself before pulling his knees into his chest and stretching his spine.

“Then I can’t condone the relationship you and Dalia seemed to have developed,” Sandrina countered. “Where is your wife?”

Dax leaned back. On his knees, he stretched, causing a series of pops to crackle down his spine.

“She’s dead,” Dax replied. “Burned in a fire with my daughter.”

Dax paused. His brow furrowed in confusion. He searched within himself. That was the first time he’d been able to mention the incident without it feeling like a red-hot iron poker twisting in his guts.

“I’m sorry, that’s a terrible accident,” Sandrina replied, her morally superior pose waning at the news.

“It wasn’t an accident,” Dax explained, pulling himself to his feet.

“Did the perpetrators ever face justice?” Sandrina asked.

“Not from the courts.”

Sandrina’s brow knitted together while her head tilted to one side, her ears twitching in the process.

“What do you mean?”

“No one’s told you?” Dax asked.

“Told me what?”

“The Junkyard, it’s a prison ship. Kane, Mark and I were sentenced to work on it before coming across a Dal’no ship and getting slung to Dal’no’nuuur.”

Sandrina took a few steps back. She tried to hide the fear that crawled across her face. Her hands dropped to her sides, readying her claw-like nails.

“You’re criminals?” she asked, her voice a trembling whisper.

“Aside from the fact that everyone attached to the guild is technically a criminal, yes. On our world, we are. Mark hacked into the world’s nuclear arsenal to launch them into space and get rid of the threat of nuclear war. Admittedly, he wanted to aim it all at our inhabited moon. In his defense, he thought the news of it being inhabited was a lie,” Dax explained.

He paced across the main deck, putting more distance between himself and the doctor.

“Kane was charged with war crimes. He disobeyed a direct order and destroyed a holy symbol and brought it down on a group of armed men who were going to slaughter a group of villagers in a country he wasn’t supposed to be deployed into in the first place.”

Dax noticed Sandrina’s fingers start to relax. Her shoulders were still tense, and her eyes remained locked on Dax. Her pupils were large, trying to take in as much information on him as possible.

“And you?” she asked.

“The men who killed my family weren’t charged because of who their parents were,” Dax answered with a shrug. “I tracked them down and brought justice to my wife and daughter myself.”

“What did you do to them?” Her tone held a hint of skepticism.

“Justice.”

“Your justice. Did you make it hurt?”

“I did. That’s why I was sentenced to the Junkyard instead of a normal prison.”

Sandrina’s shoulders dropped, the concern on her face vanished. “What were your wife’s and daughter’s names?”

“Karista and Elizabeth,” Dax replied.

Muttering their names struck him through the heart. His chest tightened and his hands started to tremble while the nauseous churning of his gut rose through his throat.

“Warning, panic attack detected,” the ship said through Dax’s translator.

“Are you okay?” Sandrina asked, stepping toward him.

“I, uh, I-I’m fine,” he stammered. “I just haven’t said their names since it happened.”

He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. As he did, his chest loosened. The sickness creeping up his throat subsided and his stomach untwisted.

“If you don’t mind, I think I’m going to take a walk,” Dax said.

“Panic attack subsiding,” the ship announced.

Sandrina nodded and stepped out of Dax’s way. The former professor jumped out of the ship. He landed at the outer edge of their camp. Kane inspected the O.G.R.E. armor and the two remaining Valtukta suits and weapons. His rope hung on a broken branch nearby.

Dax walked past the tanning wolf bear pelt and into the woods while Sandrina exited the ship a few seconds later. He followed the aggressive chopping sounds of Dalia’s axe on innocent trees that had been ringing out for almost two days straight. He reached a massive clearing. The crack of a tree falling and its thud once hitting the ground filled the field of stumps.

“If Treebeard saw you doing that, he’d get kind of ticked,” Dax said in her native tongue.

Dalia dropped her axe. She turned to look at him and let out a disapproving huff while baring her tusks.

“I’m not here to fight,” Dax said raising his hands. “I’m here to apologize.”

“For what?” she asked in English.

Dax relented, reverting back to his first language.

“For being flippantly dismissive of your wants and desires to make this galaxy a safer place,” Dax said, taking a step toward her. “I shouldn’t have just shut you down like that. It wasn’t right.”

“Then why did you?” Dalia asked, turning toward him.

“I could tell you it’s because we have a very specific skillset that allows us to do a good job and make good money. Or that we have contracts binding our services to Bleeze and the guild and that we have to see those contracts through. Or that I don’t want to put Mark, Kane and Sandrina in danger by tracking those things.”

“But?” she asked in a whisper, her voice filled with trepidation.

Dax clenched his teeth. What he wanted to say anchored itself deep within him. Righting that anchor, he shook his head.

“But the truth is, it’s you. I don’t want to see you hurt again. Watching you fight for your life was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do and those bugs aren’t something to be toyed with. If we hunt them down…”

Dax trailed off. A lump filled his throat, choking the words before they could emerge. Dalia took a step toward him, her head tilted to one side making the braid he’d made of her hair fall free. Seeing the braid, flashes of Elizabeth’s smiling face flooded his memories, causing the tightness to return to his chest.

“Go on,” she goaded.

Her voice brought a sense of calm to the storm that welled within him. He swallowed the knot while digging his nail into his palm to sharpen his senses.

“I’m not strong enough to scatter the ashes of another woman I care so deeply about,” Dax confessed.

Dalia took several more steps toward him. Her cold demeanor softened at his words. She approached him, taking his hands in hers.

“We are Battle Bonded. Your will is mine. Where you go, I go. I just wish to be heard.”

“I will do better at that in the future,” Dax replied.

He looked up into her bright green eyes. They flared with greens and flecks of yellow as Dax’s heart rate started to rise. He leaned toward Dalia; she moved in as well. A lightheadedness gripped the former professor while they moved closer to one another.

His body pressed against hers. Dax looked up into her eyes.

“Is that a gun in your pocket?” Dalia asked.

“Yes, yes, it is,” Dax answered, removing the weapon to show her. “But if you’re thinking what I’m thinking, then⁠—”

The scream of an engine pulled them away from one another. Dax turned to the sky to see a heavily armed transport ship in the bulky fashion of the Valtakuntera fly toward the ground. A ball of plasma erupted from its cannons. Dax’s heart dropped.

“No,” he whispered in disbelief.

BOOM!

The rounds slammed behind the tree line, causing an explosion. Pieces of the Junkyard flew into the sky.

“KANE, MARK!” Dax screamed.

Dalia grabbed her axe. They both sprinted toward their ship while the circling vessel lowered itself in the desert.

35

HUNTED DOWN

Dax burst through the three-line to see Kane pulling Sandrina to her feet. The Junkyard was blown almost completely in half. Smoke billowed from the hole in its center while its edges dripped with glowing, molten metal.

“We’re all right,” Kane barked, pointing at the armor. “Suit up.”

Dax’s jacket was already on the ground while he rushed to his suit. Stepping in, he quickly started to pull it up around him while Kane put Sandrina in a suit as well. Dalia slid to a stop at the sight of the Junkyard.

“Mark,” she whispered in horror.

Dax’s helmet clamped around his head.

“I’M GOOD, I’M GOOD!” Mark shouted over the radio.

“You’re alive?!” Dax replied, a wave of relief washed over him.

“Yeah, the A.I. warned me about the incoming threat. I got in the fridge. It protected me.”

Dax looked at the landed ship. Four heavily armed and armored men marched toward them. In the center, leading the group, was a being in flowing dark robes wielding a long, black staff and sporting a limp any time he stepped with his right foot. Dax’s stomach dropped.

“Dalia, do you remember that hiding spot on the lower level in the airlock?”

“Yes, why?” she asked.

“With where you’re at, they likely haven’t seen you yet,” Dax explained. “Go, hide in there until we tell you it’s safe.”

“But…” Dalia started.

“No buts.” Kane snipped. “They’ve got plasma weapons; your armor barely covers you. One shot and you’re done. Get in there, now.”

With a frustrated snort, Dalia leapt through the hole into the ship, crouched and disappeared into the vessel. Dax drew his weapon and moved to take cover behind a piece of debris that had fallen from the ship. Kane and Sandrina drew their weapons as well before sliding into the tree-line.

“It looks like we figured out who entered the solar system,” Dax said.

“Mark, are you sure you knocked out all transmitters?” Kane asked.

“Of course I am, why?”

“Because we’re currently looking at Znanstvenk Henuva,” Dax replied.

“And four heavily armored men,” Kane added.

“Then they found out some other way because it wasn’t me. Let me work on something. It may take a few minutes.”

“What are you doing?” Sandrina asked.

“Don’t worry about it. If I’m successful, you’ll know,” Mark replied.

“How do you know who that is?” Sandrina asked in little more than a whisper.

“You see that limp? I gave it to him,” Dax replied.

Dax raised his pistol and aimed at one of the guards.

“Don’t,” Kane hissed. “Their armor’s up. A pistol shot’s not going to do anything.”

“Okay then, I’ll shoot Henuva,” Dax countered.

“Let’s try and get information from him first,” Kane added.

“You’re not a whole lot of fun, you know that?” Dax asked, lowering his pistol.

“Thinking tactically often isn’t,” Kane mused. “Sandrina, if you want to put some distance, we can take these guys.”

“I may not be able to fight against those things, but I’ll stay to render aid if you get hurt,” Sandrina said, peering around her tree.

Dax watched closely as they approached. The gem on top of Henuva’s staff glowed a soft green. His guards raised their rifles and pointed them directly at them.

“Mark, is your staff still in one piece?” Dax asked over the radio.

“It is,” Mark replied.

“Any way you can interrupt whatever Henuva’s doing?”

“It looks like he’s projecting this interaction,” Mark said; his voice crackled with static. “I’m watching his approach right now from my staff. He’s got higher-ups watching. We can make this good, play it up to our advantage.”

“Play what up?” Kane asked.

“I’ll let you know. Let me double-check a few things first,” Mark replied. “Please hold.”

His line went silent once more. Henuva and his guards stopped ten yards away from them. Dax’s H.U.D. quickly made several targeting suggestions while revealing Henuva’s vitals.

“I didn’t believe it when our scouts said they’d picked up the Junkyard on sensors.” Henuva chuckled. “I must say, I’m impressed. No one’s ever escaped the Valtakuntera before. My experiments were a success, if I do say so myself.”

“What do you want, roundy?” Dax snipped.

“Always the quick tongue with you,” Henuva said as he held the staff out.

The glint of mechanical fingers gripping the device caught Dax’s eye. He fought the urge to laugh while keeping as much of the debris between himself and the Valtukta.

“Where’s the weapon?” Henuva asked.

“Guys, the weapon systems have been damaged,” Mark whispered. “Plan A is out the window; we’re going to Plan B. I need you to vamp while I work out a kink or two.”

“You killed him,” Kane chimed in, pointing at the hole in the ship. “You disobeyed rules two and four of universal gun safety.”

“Always lay down an unending line of suppressing fire and shoot your enemy from every angle except from straight on?” Henuva asked.

“No, gun safety rule one, all guns are always loaded. Two, never cover your muzzle with anything you aren’t willing to destroy. Three, keep your finger off the trigger until your sights are on target and you’ve made the decision to shoot. Four, be certain of your target and what’s behind it,” Kane belted out.

“Then they didn’t violate two and four,” Dax cut in. “They violated three and four. They didn’t put their hand in front of the barrel. They were too trigger happy, and now Mark’s little more than sublimated flesh.”

“What are you talking about?! They clearly covered the muzzle with something they weren’t willing to destroy, and that was Mark. Now we’re down our tech man and a ship.”

Dax smacked the side of the ship; metal siding fell to the ground.

“There were a dozen other ways they could’ve stopped us from escaping without blindly firing at a ship when they didn’t know who was on board.” he roared, playing up the show.

“Guys, get closer together, in the open,” Mark whispered.

Kane punched a nearby tree. A chunk of wood splintered out of the growth.

“Out of the two of us, who’s actually trained on things like gun safety?!” Kane roared. “And who’s little more than a desk jockey whose decisions have only led us from bad to worse? If it wasn’t for you, Dalia would still be with us.”

Dax clenched his jaw, leaning into Kane’s show. He struck the cover he was using, denting the metal before meeting him in the open. He clenched his fist, getting inches away from the former soldier.

“Maybe she’d still be with us if you weren’t so trigger happy yourself,” Dax snarled. “Now THAT was a violation of rule three, old man.”

“If the weapon isn’t alive, then we have no more use for you,” Henuva said, shaking his head in disappointment. “Kill them.”

The guards stepped forward focusing their weapons on Kane and Dax.

“Whatever you’re planning, now’s the time,” Dax whispered from behind clenched teeth.

“Put your left hands up and open your hands as much as you can.” Mark ordered.

Both men followed Mark’s orders. Once he curled his fingers as far back as he could, Dax felt a slight push on his body. Purple plasma rounds roared at them. Dax’s lower body tightened, a surge of fear at the inbound projectiles overtook him.

A foot before impact, the shots’ containment fields failed, causing the plasma to dissipate harmlessly around them. Adrenaline flooded Dax’s system. Exhilaration gripped him.

“Okay, now point your hand at their weapon and say, behold the power of humanity and curl your fingers in,” Mark ordered.

Dax took several steps at their opponents, his hand still up while two more plasma rounds vanished before striking him.

“Behold, the power of humanity.” he snarled, aiming his palm at one of the rifles.

He curled his fingertips. The weapon was ripped from the guard’s hand. It impacted Dax’s palm. He caught the gun. Kane quickly did the same. They both raised their guns, pointing them at Henuva.

A plasma round tore through the forest and struck the side of one of the remaining Valtukta weapons. The metal sparked and started to melt. Sandrina marched out of the woods, pistol up and aimed at the other guard.

“Drop it,” Sandrina barked.

The guard hesitated.

“I said kill them,” Henuva ordered once more.

Sandrina fired again, taking out the other primary weapon.

“I take it your people have heard of us,” Dax snarled. “And they clearly know what happened to you.”

Throwing out his left hand, he aimed it at Henuva’s foot. He curled his fingers and the scientist’s boot was yanked into the air, throwing him onto his back before crashing into Dax’s hand with a metal clank.

Dax turned his wrist; a metallic prosthetic of toes landed on the ground in front of him. He looked back at Henuva. Rage filled the space elf’s face. He extended his staff, sending a beam of green energy at Dax.

Before Dax could open his hand, the beam struck him in the shoulder like a sledgehammer. Light fractaled in every direction and he staggered back. Heat damage warnings flashed on his heads-up display. Dax looked at his shoulder. It had a soft orange glow to it.

“You know what?” he grumbled. “We don’t need all of you.”

Dax raised his rifle, aimed at Henuva’s right arm and fired. Fear filled the scientist’s eyes. Just before impact, one of the guards stepped in the way. He held his forearms up, taking the hit. He staggered back, his gauntlets glowing a soft orange as well.

“Dax, we need information. We won’t get it if he dies of shock.” Kane barked.

“Fine, but more than one hit from that staff and your armor is going to fail,” Dax warned.

“I’ll worry about the staff,” Mark cut in. “You guys worry about the guards.”

One by one, the guards drew hilts off their armor. With a flick of their wrist, a white blade erupted before sparking with energy. Out of the corner of his eye, Dax noticed Kane’s fingers twitch. Nothing happened.

“Those swords aren’t magnetic,” Kane whispered.

The guards let out a battle cry before charging Kane, Dax and Sandrina.

“I would love to have Dalia and her battle axe right about now,” Sandrina muttered.

Dax squeezed his trigger. A purple beam flew at one of the guards. With a flash of electricity, the ceramic blade harmlessly dissipated the round.

“I’m starting to feel that way too,” Dax added, swallowing hard.

Kane and Sandrina leveled their weapons. All three opened fire. The guards continued to rush them, shoulder to shoulder, covering themselves and each other from the inbound fire. Anything that got through did little lasting damage to their suits.

“I saw one of Sleek’s people cut through the throat armor of these guys,” Dax said while continuing to fire. “It’s their weak point. When this devolves to hand-to-hand, go for the throats.”

“I don’t have a knife on me,” Kane said.

Sandrina lowered her weapon and quickly pulled the gloves off her suit.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you one,” Dax countered. “When they get closer, dump all the power you have into one last repulse. Give me a countdown before you do.”

While still firing, his eyes darted around his heads-up display to find the power gauge for the magnet guns Mark re-located into their suits. It sat at thirty percent power; he changed it to one hundred. A warning that he’d only get one shot at that level flashed.

“Three,” Kane called out.

“Two.”

Dax’s full attention went back to the battlefield. He lowered his rifle and grabbed his knife.

“One!”

As he threw his knife in front of him, Dax and Kane thrust their left arms out with all their might. The counter force slid Dax back several feet. Dax’s knife rode the magnetic wave. It found its target, puncturing one of the guard’s necks.

All four flew backward, weapons in hand. The dead guard’s blade flipped into the air. Dashing forward, Dax grabbed the weapon, he flourished it around himself before holding it straight over his head. “I’m a freaking Jedi, but one of the classic ones, not whatever’s going on now.”

36

LAST STAND

One of the guards closest to Dax recovered quickly and hooked his foot behind Dax’s heel. With a powerful pull, Dax’s leg was yanked into the air. The guard spun and delivered a kick into the former professor’s abdomen.

Knocked off balance, Dax fell backward, releasing the sword in the process. It tumbled to the ground but Sandrina grabbed it and tossed it to Kane to engage the two recovering guards.

Dax’s heart lurched into his throat seeing an electrified blade being plunged at his face plate. In a blur, Sandrina appeared over him, a foot on either side of his body. She blocked the blade with her forearm while bringing her other hand down on the guard’s wrist.

Sparks flew on contact with her claws. The guard snarled, losing his grip with the impacted hand. Sandrina quickly struck him in the chest with an open palm, staggering the armored man.

“Get your knife and help Kane,” she ordered.

“That move part of your wild past?” Dax asked, scrambling out from under her.

“No. My job with the guild is to go to very dangerous worlds. I wouldn’t last long without learning how to defend myself,” Sandrina replied.

Dax rushed over to the body while Sandrina charged her opponent. Her speed and ferocity kept him on the back foot.

“A little help over here,” Kane shouted.

He blocked both swords, one with his own, the other with his rifle. Electricity sparked across the rifle’s power cell. Both guards noticed, looked at each other, disengaged and dove away from Kane.

Dax ripped his knife free from the fallen guard’s throat. He sprinted to Kane, grabbed the weapon by its barrel and threw it as hard as he could into the woods. Before it hit the ground, an explosion rocked the battlefield. A ball of blinding purple plasma scorched the forest.

“Why didn’t you throw it at them, Henuva or their ship?” Kane asked.

“I wasn’t thinking about that,” Dax countered, flipping his knife into a reverse grip and taking a battle stance next to Kane. “I was thinking about not letting it blow you to pieces.”

Henuva clambered to his feet. He raised his staff. The gem started to glow. Dax pushed Kane away from him as a beam of energy surged through where both men were standing.

“We’ve got to take that staff out,” Kane snarled.

Both guards were back on their feet and rushed Kane and Dax.

“If it’s anything like mine, he only has one or two shots left,” Mark replied. “Unless he hits you directly in the face plate, your armor can handle it. Just focus on your fights.”

Dax’s guard swung his sword low, aiming for the former professor’s side. He dropped his knife-wielding hand and blocked the blade. On impact, a jolt of electricity shot through the hilt of his dagger. It traveled up his arm, through his shoulder, and burned across his chest.

With a snarl, Dax balled up his fist and threw his free hand at the guard’s faceplate with all his might. On impact, sparks flew from their contact. For a fraction of a second, the circuit was completed. A cold heat burst across Dax’s chest, twisted through his arm and into his opponent’s helmet.

The Valtukta let out an agonizing scream. His body tightened up while he staggered backward. A hollow pain encompassed Dax’s chest. He tried to breathe but was unable to pull in air. His head screamed, aware his heart had stopped beating.

“Come on, he didn’t even land a hit, beat,” Dax snarled to himself. “BEAT!”

He formed a fist while the corners of his vision started to darken. With all his strength, he slammed his hand into his chest. Nothing. His armor stopped the impact from reaching him.

Through fading consciousness, he watched as the guard he’d faced regain his footing. Get up or he’s going to kill you! he continued to think while the Valtukta drew back the blade.

Dax’s vision continued to fade. His fingers and toes went numb while a deep ache soared down his left arm. He watched as the electrified blade flew at his throat. With the last of his strength, he pushed off the ground. The tip of the blade struck him in the middle of his breastplate, stopped by the metal.

Another jolt of electric pain coursed through him once more. His heart slammed against his sternum, allowing him to take a deep breath. His body dumped every ounce of adrenaline into him to get him back into the fight. Every muscle fiber burned. Time seemed to slow to a crawl around him.

Drawing his knife across his body, Dax knocked the electrified blade off his chest. He drew his free arm back, and with every ounce of strength he could muster, he threw it into a powerful uppercut.

His knuckles made contact with the Valtukta’s chin. Sparks scattered from the punch. They flickered, dancing around his head while his opponent’s snapped back unnaturally.

The guards’ feet were lifted off the ground and he fell backward. Dax rushed forward, grabbed the man’s throat and slammed his body into the forest floor. Even through the armor, he felt the shattered vertebrae in his opponent’s neck. He grabbed the sparking sword before turning to Kane.

The battlefield moved at a crawl. Kane was just a little bit faster. He held up an arm to block a blow to the side of his head so he could use the opening to stab at the armpit of his opponent. Dax sheathed his knife and rushed to Kane’s side. With a swipe, he knocked the other guard’s sword down, causing him to miss.

Time snapped back to normal speed. Kane’s stab forced the guard back. Dax lifted his sword, his hands trembling from the adrenaline surge starting to wear off. His legs weakened, but he forced himself to stand his ground.

“If the circuit closes, it’ll stop your heart,” Dax said.

“Good to know,” Kane replied, glancing at the motionless suit of armor on the ground. “How’d you kill yours?”

“Supercharged upper-cut, broke his neck.”

“Think you can do it again?” Kane asked.

“Don’t think I can hold this sword for much longer,” Dax replied.

“Then we end this fast.”

The guard charged at them. He swung at Dax while ducking Kane’s attack. With a kick, the former soldier stumbled backward. Once the blades clashed, sparks flew in every direction. The blow felt like stopping an anvil. Dax’s forearms burned, his arms trembled, and one leg buckled trying to hold the attack back.

The guard pulled away. With all his strength pushing forward, Dax fell to the ground, barely catching himself with his hands. He looked up to see the Valtukta soldier lifting his sword for a decapitation blow.

Before he brought it down, Kane’s sword shot through the throat of the armor. Silver blood spurted from the attack. The guard dropped his sword before falling to his knees. Once Kane ripped the blade free, the guard tumbled to the sand, staining it in the process.

Both men looked to Sandrina. She swiped at her opponent’s throat. Her nails slashed through the gaps in the armor, ripping the soft flesh beneath out. The Valtukta fell dead. Sandrina dropped to her knees, hacking something horrible. A fur ball the size of an orange flew from her mouth. She panted, wiping her mouth; electric burn marks covered her armor.

Dax would have to ask her about that later.

Kane drew his plasma pistol and pointed it at Henuva standing several yards away, leaning against his staff with his healed over toeless foot visible. He looked at the pistol and held up a non-robotic finger while the crystal started to glow brightly.

“I am locked into the face plates of all three of you,” Henuva warned. “If I break concentration on holding the shot back, including death, then it fires. You, Kane, are likely fast enough to get out of the way, but your friends… they look tired.”

“Shoot him,” Dax barked. “I can take it.”

“So can I,” Sandrina panted.

“I assure you, you can’t,” Henuva countered before eyeing Kane. “Unless you wish to test and see.”

Kane gritted his teeth and lowered the pistol.

“And the sword.”

Kane dropped it.

“Mark, any time now,” Dax whispered.

“If I don’t jam their radios just right, the rest of the fleet will be on us in seconds,” Mark countered. “I’m almost done.”

“So are we,” Dax said.

“Any ideas?” Sandrina asked.

“He’s a scientist, they love to talk about their work,” Dax muttered, his arms pleading to give out under his weight.

“Why are you hunting us?” Kane asked. “Why experiment on us?”

“Your genetics are fascinating,” Henuva replied. “They are remarkably compatible with my people. Even with your escape, my work is still considered a success. Because of you, our people have entered our next step of evolution.”

“What have you done?” Dax asked from behind a clenched jaw.

“Not as much as I’d like. With only three of you, our sample sizes were far too small to make any changes on a large scale. But when we find your world and get access to a near endless supply of your species, my research will take our people to new heights.”

“You don’t already know where Terra is?” Kane asked.

“We know it’s in the quarantined sector. Our scout ships are scouring it now. It may take several of your lifetimes, but for the Valtukta, it will be a blink of an eye until we find your world.”

“Mark,” Dax whispered.

“Almost there; just a few more seconds.”

“I hate to break it to you, but you don’t stand a chance against our race,” Dax cackled. “You’ve gotten whupped twice by a teacher and a soldier past his prime. We have a united army of men and women far more aggressive than us. If they even get a sniff of your people in our space, your empire will be reduced to nothing but ash. When that happens, I’ll be holding your eyes open as you watch the last of your people burn. And are you almost ready? I’m running out of things to say.”

“I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the Flame of Anor. The dark fire will not avail you,” Mark shouted.

Mark emerged from the hole in the ship, his reconstructed staff held high, its crystal glowing a bright green. Shock spread across Henuva’s face. He took a half step back.

“YOU SHALL NOT PASS!” Mark screamed.

He slammed his staff on the deck. A beam of light erupted from his crystal and impacted Henuva’s. Cracks rippled across the stone. A high-pitched whine filled the air while the Valtukta’s staff trembled violently.

Henuva threw his staff at Kane. Before it travelled more than a foot out of his hand, it exploded in a shower of light, plasma and shrapnel. The shockwave knocked Dax to the ground. Kane held his footing while Sandrina covered her face.

Once the effects of the explosion faded, Henuva’s body lay motionless in the sand across from them. Kane dropped the sword and rushed to the Valtukta’s side. He retracted his helmet before ripping a piece of the scientists robes free and starting to tie it around something.

“How’s ugly?” Dax asked.

“Alive, unconscious, heavily injured and missing an arm,” Kane replied. “Sandrina, can you help?”

“Yes, but what if I don’t want to?” she asked.

“He’s got information we need. We can’t get it if he’s dead. If we save him, we might be able to learn something about your world in the process.”

She let out a hiss, pulled herself to her feet and stumbled to Henuva’s side. Mark jumped out of the Junkyard with his staff in one hand and a medical kit in the other. He rushed to Kane’s side, giving them the kit.

“What was that explosion?” Dalia’s voice came over the radio.

“We won,” Dax mumbled.

“Are you hurt?” Her voice held a hint of panic.

“Nothing that won’t heal, just exhausted.”

“I’m coming,” Dalia announced.

Mark made his way over to Dax. The former professor lay motionless in the sand. Every fiber of his being tingled and ached with an unnatural numbness. He looked at the teen.

“Why didn’t Dalia join in the fight?” Mark asked. “With one swing of that axe, she could’ve cut all four of those guys in half.”

“The Valtakuntera were likely listening in. If they think you’re dead and she’s dead, it’ll take some heat off of you both,” Dax replied.

“But if they know you’re alive, won’t that negate the lie of our deaths?” Mark asked.

“I didn’t think quite that far ahead.” Dax chuckled. “But with that explosion, I wouldn’t be surprised if they think we’re all dead. And did you just quote Gandalf?”

“Hey, I’ve got a staff, yeah, its technology based and not magical, but if I can shoot a plasma beam out of it while making a dramatic speech from the greatest work of fiction this galaxy has ever seen, I’mma do it.”

“The hand thing, was that what you were doing with our magnet guns?” Dax asked.

“I figured it’d be overall easier to use with our specific situation to integrate them into the armor,” Mark replied with a nod.

“That kind of ingenuity is freaking godlike,” Dax chuckled.

“Dax, can you move?” Kane asked.

He tried to lift his arm. It felt like it was made of lead. He dropped it back to the sand, his muscles screaming at him for daring to try and move.

“Not at this time, no,” Dax replied.

“Then you can’t slap yourself for saying Mark’s godlike. Mark, get onto the Valtukta ship and see if you can find anything that could be a medical kit,” Kane ordered.

“On it!”

Mark turned and sprinted toward the Valtukta ship. Dalia leapt from what was left of the Junkyard, axe in hand. She jogged over to Dax and knelt beside him. She looked him over before picking him up, cradling him in her large arms.

“What’d they do?” Dalia asked.

“They had electrified swords,” Dax explained. “I made the mistake of closing a circuit. It stopped my heart for a few seconds.”

“It what?!” Dalia shouted.

“I’m sorry, did I hear you say your heart stopped?” Sandrina asked over the radio.

“You know that’s really bad for you, right?” Mark added.

“Heart stopped and still managed to win. You may just be more of a warrior than I gave you credit for.” Kane chuckled.

“It stopped, just for a few seconds. It’s okay, it started again… after he stabbed me in the chest and gave me a jump start,” Dax mumbled the last part.

“You got stabbed in the chest?” Sandrina asked. “I’ll be right over.”

“I’m good. The armor blocked it. I’m not injured.”

“Then why can’t you stand?” Dalia asked.

“Well, due to a massive surge of epinephrine, my body initiated a surge and used up every glycogen atom stored in my muscles, burning them all in a matter of seconds. That has left my…”

“Non-science terms,” Kane scolded. “Am I the only one who speaks English around here?”

“Near death experience put my body into fight mode and burned every ounce of energy I had. I am physically exhausted, but after a nap, a meal and some rest, I will be fine, I promise.”

“Sandrina, is he correct?” Dalia asked.

“Given his metabolism works similarly to most other species in the galaxy, yes,” Sandrina replied. “Give him a cookie and some meat and he’ll be back on his feet in no time.”

Dalia stood up, holding Dax in her arms. He leaned against her and chuckled to himself softly.

“What’s so funny?” Dalia asked.

“This is probably the most emasculating thing I’ve ever done,” Dax replied.

“He is one hundred percent correct, but he did kill half of these guys, so we’ll let it pass this time,” Kane replied.

Dalia carried Dax back toward the wreckage. She laid him down under a tree before grabbing his jacket, rolling it up and tucking it under his head.

“You’re not taking me to my room?” Dax asked.

“There’s no room for me to take you to,” Dalia replied.

Mark jumped out of the Valtukta ship, a large box in hand. Dax watched as he rushed it to Kane and Sandrina, who worked tirelessly on Henuva.

“Mark, can we discuss, for a second, how you survived that shot?” Dax asked.

“We already have,” Mark replied.

The teen turned and jogged back to the Junkyard.

“Yes, but I would like to point out that you got into the fridge just before it got nuked, and survived.”

“Then you can just call me Indiana,” Mark replied.

“We’re not doing that,” Kane countered. “Now, will you guys leave Dax alone so we can go to sleep? We’ve got a lot of work to do, not a lot of time to do it in and a Valtakuntera fleet still in the system to worry about.”

“Yeah, Dalia,” Mark teased. “Leave him alone. I have some work for you too!”

Dalia leaned forward; she touched her forehead to Dax’s helmet.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” she said softly.

“So am I,” he replied.

He leaned into her as much as he could before his head fell back onto his jacket. Dalia stood up and approached Mark.

“What work do you have?” Dalia asked.

“I saw some pretty cool stuff in that Valtakuntera ship that would go perfectly in this rebuild of the Junkyard. Only problem is I’m way too weak to rip it out myself and bring it over.”

“You want me to rip it out for you?” Dalia asked.

“Yes, ma’am, and I don’t even mean that in a punny way either.”

Dax laid his head back. His body relaxed while the world around him went dark.

37

REBUILD

Dax’s eyes shot open; he took a deep breath before sitting straight up. He grabbed the side of his helmet, fidgeting with the lock before ripping it open and gasping for the forest’s fresh air. The star-filled night and full moon shed light on their camp.

Mark and Sandrina moved smaller pieces of technology around while Kane and Dalia pulled hunks of metal out of the ground with a large pulley system. Next to the Junkyard were the deconstructed pieces of armor of the Valtukta guards. Dax pulled himself to his feet and walked over to Kane. Each step was stiff, his muscles ached from the strain they’d been put under.

“Where are you getting this?” Dax asked, looking at a piece of metal that still seemed in good shape.

“Vleeze and her group of scientists cannibalized some of their ships to build their A.I. creator,” Kane explained.

He pulled on the rope. Dalia tossed several more pieces over the edge.

“We’ve been able to salvage enough to get the Junkyard spaceworthy again,” Dalia explained. “And there’s so many tools down here too.”

“Good, where’s pointy?” Dax asked.

Kane pointed near the tanning rack to a tree. The scientist was standing, rope held him tightly in place. The former soldier reached into the pocket of his jumpsuit, pulled Dax’s necklace, sporting the Dal’no jewelry free and offered it to him.

“Found this on him when we searched him,” Kane said.

Dax took the necklace and put it on, tucking the intricately carved pieces of metal into his breastplate.

“Anything I can do to help?”

“No, we’re almost done here. Once the harvest is finished, we’re going to call it a night,” Kane explained. “You can take first watch, though, since you’ve just woken up.”

“That’s only fair,” Dax replied, looking at Dalia. “How are you doing?”

“A little bummed I missed the fight, but I’m good,” Dalia replied, pointing down. “Send me back. I’ve got a few more things to get.”

Dax turned and approached Sandrina and Mark. He watched them run wires while talking tech.

“You know how to rewire a ship too?” Dax called up. “You are a woman of many talents.”

“I know how to listen,” Sandrina replied. “Mark is walking me through it.”

“Good job,” Dax exclaimed, looking at the teen. “And how’s our little hunk of junk doing?”

“Better than she should be,” Mark replied. “Whoever took that shot is an idiot. They fired straight through the hull. There was damage from the electromagnetic field that contained the plasma, but they missed all vital systems. A little re-wiring, which the Valtukta generously donated, and we’re good to go.”

Dax pursed his lips. He looked back at the Valtukta ship that Mark had brought closer to their camp. He crossed his arms.

“I wonder if whoever took the shot isn’t an idiot,” Dax said, more to himself than anyone.

“What do you mean?” Mark asked. “The worst of the damage was a de-polarization to the core. I was able to get that fixed no problem. She’ll be good when we boot her back up.”

“Yes, but this ship is based on human design. What if Valtukta ships have a different design and where they hit us is where their vital systems are?”

Mark and Dax both looked at Sandrina for confirmation. She shook her head while continuing to work.

“I couldn’t tell you, to be honest. I’ve never been on one of their ships, but a lot of the vessels I’ve been on have their vital systems in the center. It’s harder for the enemy to get them there,” she replied.

“That’s an irritatingly logical argument,” Dax mused. “Do you need any help up there?”

“No, we’re almost done,” Mark said. “We just have to finish laying and securing this wire and put the flooring back in place and we’ll be done. From there, it’s just a matter of fixing the hull.”

“Copy that,” Dax said, looking at Henuva. “And how’s our prisoner?”

“Infuriatingly all right,” Mark grunted.

“Really?” Dax asked, looking at Sandrina.

“He’s stable enough for us to tie him up while standing.”

Dax nodded; curiosity tugged at him while he turned toward Henuva. Placing his hands behind his back, he strode across their camp, coming to a stop a few feet away from Henuva. The Valtukta looked at him, hate filling his eyes as he stared at Dax.

“You want to tell me how last time I saw you; I’m assuming what was just a few hours ago, you were filled with shrapnel and had your arm blown off and now you’re standing in front of me conscious and seemingly well?” Dax asked.

The Valtukta spat at Dax. It fell short. With a nod, Dax kicked dirt over the spit before turning his attention back to their captive.

“At least you lost the arm that I worked on and not the still functioning one,” Dax replied. “Look, I’m something of a scientist myself. My field is language, but I am fascinated by all aspects of the unknown. I like to get to know how things work. In this way, I think you and I are not so different.”

Dax stepped a little closer, bringing his arms in front of him and folding one over the other.

“Meeting a new species, I could understand wanting to know how they work, what makes them tick. To be honest, if one of your people landed on our world, some not all but some of our scientists would want to detain you and run tests on you to find out more about your biology.”

Dax watched Henuva while he spoke. Each word he uttered seemed to be poison to the Valtukta. Rage built in him with each passing second.

“I get it, you hate me,. I don’t blame you. I’d hate me too. What we’ve run into here is a bit of an impasse, though. See, I would like to have a conversation with you. I can’t, though, because you don’t seem to want to have a conversation with me.”

“Why would I want to converse with the man who defiled me,” Henuva hissed.

“I wouldn’t go so far as to use the word ‘defiled.’ That tends to imply something else. Disfigure, yes; defile, no,” Dax countered.

“You took one of my ears,” he barked. “I’m nothing more than a pariah now, a shadow. The position and status I’ve fought centuries for is worth nothing.”

Dax winced at his words. He tapped against his forearm before starting to pace in front of Henuva. While he walked, he inspected their prisoner. The stump of his arm was already scarred over. Dax’s mind flashed back to the prison ship.

“So, that’s how you survived,” he mumbled.

“What?” Henuva asked.

“You took our ability for cells to revert back to stem cells and rapidly divide and somehow integrated it into your own genetics, didn’t you?” Dax asked. “You gave yourself our healing factor.”

“You can’t prove that. Maybe I gave you ours,” Henuva countered.

“No, you said that you activated dormant genes. Now, I know you did something extra to us because even with everything turned on and mitotic pathways dialed up to eleven, it still would take days to heal from what we can in a few minutes. What’d you do?”

“Are you going to work on me again if I don’t tell you?” Henuva asked.

Dax shook his head before crossing his arms over his chest.

“I actually owe you an apology about that. I was emotional, irrational, angry and impatient. While you did experiments on us for over a year, that doesn’t give me the right to vivisect you for information. For that, I apologize, and for taking your ear. If I’d known it was culturally significant, I probably wouldn’t have done it. Maybe just a tooth or scalp.”

A perplexed expression spread over Henuva’s face. He leaned back against the tree while inspecting Dax closely.

“You actually mean that?” he asked in disbelief.

“I do. I have dark impulses from an even darker time in my life. I didn’t keep them in check, and you paid the price.”

Henuva scoffed.

“Now, if I untie you so you can sit down, are you going to try to escape?” Dax asked.

“If I am thinking about it?” Henuva asked.

“You’re missing an arm and five toes, you’re not in armor, your robes and staff are gone, and I still don’t like you. If you try anything, I will kill you without a second thought.”

“Then I won’t try to escape. You have my word, as a man of science.”

With an approved nod, Dax locked his plasma pistol into its holster. He moved around the back of the tree and started to untie the knot. He drew his dagger while unbinding the underwear-clad space elf.

Scars from shrapnel covered his body. Dax could tell he was thinking about making a break for it. Once Henuva saw the drawn dagger, he sat down before taking a step. Dax tied him back up before moving in front of the Valtukta and sitting down.

“Your healing is clearly a little different from ours.” Dax pulled his glove off and pulled his sleeve up to show perfectly smooth skin. “I was cut to the bone, not even a scratch. You had shrapnel that likely didn’t go that deep, but you’ve scarred.”

Dax pursed his lips while running through the thousands of conversations he’d had with his college’s geneticists and biologists.

“Yours is imperfect. Judging from what you monologued about, I’m guessing you spliced our genes into yours, am I right?”

Henuva looked away, clenching his teeth.

“That’s a yes. Okay, since you’re a pariah, I’m guessing they gave you the experimental splice after we escaped, and sent you after us. Am I close?”

“I wasn’t sent after you,” he mumbled.

“Oh, you weren’t?” Dax asked, putting his armored glove back on and leaning back. “Where were you going?”

“The quarantined sector to help in the search for your home world.”

“Yeah, well, good luck with that. No one knows where it’s at.” Dax chuckled. “Not that we have any love for it. Even if we knew its location, we still wouldn’t go back. I would say humanity’s the worst, but I’ve met the Valtukta, and so far, I haven’t met a single one I like.”

“I could say that about your race.”

Dax shrugged.

“Eh, you’ve only met three of us. On our side, we’re going on a little over a hundred if my numbering is correct. I think we have a larger sample size to pull from. But you still haven’t answered my question. How’d you increase our healing speed?”

“Technology you couldn’t comprehend.”

“Did you put microscopic robots into us?” Dax asked.

“Biological robots, yes. How’d you know?” Henuva asked.

“Because humans are a lot smarter than you give us credit for. Our people were working on biological robots almost a hundred years before I was born. One of the thousands of fields they’re used in is medicine to aid in healing. To be honest, it was just a guess, though. Thank you for the clarification!”

Kane, Dalia, Mark and Sandrina left their work and returned to the campsite. They all moved their sleeping packs closer to the tree line.

“Are there going to be any more of your people showing up looking for you tonight?” Dax asked.

“I was given two cycles to investigate. You’re safe tonight.”

“Are you really going to take his word for it?” Kane scoffed.

“Typically, I’d say no, but something tells me Henuva here is very interested in his continued survival. And he should know, if anything happens, or any surprises hit us, he’ll be the first to die.”

“And I do value my life,” Henuva added.

Sandrina let out a chuckle before lying down.

“What’s so funny?” the Valtukta asked.

“You say you value your life and yet your actions say otherwise. What you did to them made them stronger than you understand, and Dax killed one of your men after his heart was stopped,” Sandrina said before motioning to Mark. “This one reverse-engineered your own technology to be more potent than the original, and now they have more of your technology. They’ve also killed two of your queens. You and your empire clearly don’t value your lives. If you survive this, I’d tell your empress to leave humanity well enough alone.”

“She’s got a point,” Mark added, lying down as well. “We’d roll over this galaxy like a cancer and burn your empire to ash simply because we can.”

Dalia and Kane lay down without a word. Dax turned back to Henuva.

“You really think your primitive species can overthrow the most powerful empire in galactic history?” the Valtukta scoffed.

“As much as I want to say no, my people have a tendency to adapt to any situation,” Dax replied. “We would inevitably destroy some of your ships. To which, much like the Junkyard, we’d take our technology, mix it with yours and come at you with everything we’ve got. And what we’ve got makes us three look sane.”

Henuva looked down and shook his head.

“It wouldn’t take an armada to overthrow your race.”

“It’d just take one ship, right?” Dax asked. “One ship with a cylindrical payload holding an insectoid that grows to massive proportions, am I right? It’ll hit, make a queen, she’ll lay a bunch of eggs, then when there’s enough of them, they burst out and consume everything, kind of like what you tried here. Am I right?”

Henuva fell silent. Dax nodded, giving the Valtukta a pat on the head.

“We know what your people are up to, and I can tell you right now, we have one country alone whose wildlife is more insane and deadly than your bugs, and millions of people still live there,” Dax explained. “You drop that on Terra, they’ll just get a handful of Aussies together to take on the giant, deadly insects. That’s what they’d call a normal Tuesday.”

Dax stood back up and summoned his helmet to close around his head.

“If I ask you what you did to my lungs that lets me seemingly spit any caustic material I inhale, would you tell me?”

Henuva straightened himself up and cleared his throat.

“I think I’m done talking with you,” he said.

“Suit yourself, I’m sure the others would thank you since they want to sleep.”

Dax walked over to the pile of Valtukta weapons. He picked up a rifle. Makeshift slings were made out of what looked like Henuva’s robes. He slung the gun over his shoulder before picking up a sword. It no longer sparked, but its edge still looked razor sharp.

Lifting the weapon, he started to swing it around to get a feel for its weight and balance. To his surprise, the weapon felt like a feather in his hand. It whistled softly while he slashed at the air.

After an hour or so of swinging the weapon, Dax turned to the forest. No heartbeats or movements were marked on his heads-up display. Those of his teammates and Henuva were slow, indicating they were asleep as well.

Dax stuck the sword into the dirt before climbing up the edge of the Junkyard. He took his sentry position on the still intact upper hull. He slowly rotated, keeping his eyes scanning the darkness. The light of the moon and stars gave him a clear view, his helmet compensating where his biology fell short.

His hands coiled themselves around his rifle, ready to use it if needed. Several more hours passed. Bugs inched toward the camp. Dax raised his weapon and aimed at their heads. They’d sniff the air before turning and disappearing into the woods.

A handful of smaller animals scampered around the campsite. A series of beeps caught Dax’s attention. He aimed the plasma gun at the sound to see Kane’s face illuminated by his armor’s helmet, lying in the ground near him.

Kane’s eyes fluttered open. He reached inside his helmet and shut it off. Climbing to his feet, he walked over to his disassembled suit of armor and put it on. He snapped his helmet in place before looking up and waving at Dax to jump down.

Dax hopped off the ship. He hit the ground with a thud, his suit absorbed most of the impact. He quickly jogged over to his friend while lowering his gun. Kane grabbed the sling, slid the rifle off his shoulder and placed the weapon with the others.

“If we’re going to get this thing spaceworthy before the rest of the Valtukta show up, we’d better get working,” Kane said.

“Won’t we wake up the others if we start welding and riveting this so close to them?”

“We’ll start on the other side of the Junkyard. By the time we get to where it’ll wake them up, they should be up organically anyway.”

Dax nodded; they made their way to the spare parts they’d taken from Vleeze’s fleet. Grabbing the abandoned tools as well, they started around the back of the Junkyard.

“I could really use some coffee about now,” Dax said with a yawn.

“Do you think coffee is on any other planet in this galaxy?” Kane asked.

“I don’t know. I mean my gut says no because I feel like Bleeze would be a coffee drinker if it existed. But my heart wants to hope so badly.”

“I really feel like he would be too. Maybe we should go back to Earth and grab a few plants.”

“And do what?” Dax asked. “Start the first ever galactic coffee company?”

“Yeah,” Kane nodded.

“What would we even call it?”

“I have actually put a lot of thought into it. We could name it Mooncoin,” Kane suggested.

Dax stopped in his tracks. He shook his head in disbelief.

“I hope you’re not serious,” he mused. “What would the logo be, a flounder?”

“I was thinking blobfish,” Kane suggested.

38

LEAP

Dax and Kane worked on sealing the ship for several hours before Dalia woke up. Once she lent her strength to the project, they were able to make the needed bends to their heated alloys to properly form around the Junkyard’s corners.

Once Sandrina woke up, she stretched, brought everyone food, checked on Henuva and ensured he was fed and hydrated. It wasn’t until almost lunch that Mark woke. He climbed inside the ship while grumbling about how uncomfortable the ground was.

“Does your species always complain so much?” Sandrina asked, climbing into the Junkyard.

“Starting at his age and going back six years, yes,” Kane replied.

“That must be so annoying,” Sandrina whispered. “How long does it last?”

Dax finished welding a seam next to the outside door. He grabbed it, closed it, locked it then opened it again. It appeared to work even better than before.

“They usually grow out of it in a year or two,” Dax replied. “But you have to realize, not all teens are like that.”

Dax moved to the other side of the damaged area and continued to weld. His helmet darkened to protect his eyes from the blinding light.

“It really depends on how you were raised. This is just speaking in general. There are always exceptions to the rule, but households without a father tend to generate problem children…”

“And when that child is as smart as Mark, it can end in a BIG problem,” Kane interrupted. “Fortunately, he got caught before his misunderstanding could come to fruition.”

Kane huffed. He sat back on his feet and looked at Dax.

“And now I can officially say I’ve been spending way too much time around this one.” He motioned to Dax. “Never in my life have I used the word ‘fruition.’ I’m starting to sound like this idiot.”

“I knew I’d rub off on you,” Dax mused.

“Phrasing,” Dalia shouted, pointing at them.

Dax and Kane groaned in unison.

“Did Mark teach you that one?” Dax asked.

Dalia nodded while bending her last piece of metal.

“What does ‘phrasing’ mean?” Sandrina asked.

“It’s something juvenile,” Kane replied. “Come on, we’ve got work to do.”

Dax and Kane used their magnetic gauntlets to hang on to the side of the ship while finishing their work. They wrapped up the external welding as the sun started to set. Mark emerged from the bowels of the ship; grease covered him head to toe, but a wide smile spread across his face as he leaned out of the external hatch.

“I ironed out the kinks,” he shouted.

“01001001 00100000,” the Junkyard announced.

“Okay, maybe not all of them, but the A.I. is up and running, she’s able to do full diagnostics again and is paired with the Dal’no core. We should be good to go.”

“Not yet,” Kane countered. “I want to run a weld and rivet line across the inside. I’d rather not experience explosive decompression once we leave atmo.”

“Fair enough, I’ll have her run diagnostics on everything else first then, and see what else needs to be fixed.”

“Junkyard, how you feeling?” Dax asked.

“01001111 01101000 00100000 01111001,” the ship replied.

“What is that?” Dalia asked.

“It’s binary, it’s how computers talk,” Mark replied. “The electromagnetic field dispersal damaged her linguistics center. Don’t worry, I’m going to get her fixed.”

“What is she saying?” Sandrina asked.

“01010000 01110101 01110100 00100000 01110100 01101000.”

Dax hung his head before shaking it. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he stifled a laugh.

“You don’t want to know. Like I said, I have some kinks to work out, but other than that, she’s good as new.”

Mark disappeared back into the ship. The grind of the pilot seat swiveling echoed through the mostly-repaired vessel. Kane deactivated the magnet in his glove and dropped to the ground. Dax did the same, landing near him.

“You took last night’s shift. I’ll take tonight while working on this thing,” Kane said, looking at the Junkyard.

“You can’t fix the ship and watch Henuva at the same time,” Dax countered.

“I’ve got one arm, I’m practically naked, tied to a tree and in my current position, I can’t get my legs underneath me. What makes you think I’m any sort of flight risk?” Henuva asked.

“Well, the fact that you just said that really doesn’t instill much confidence that you don’t have something up your sleeve,” Dax replied.

“It’s impossible; I don’t have any sleeves,” Henuva replied.

“He really doesn’t,” Dalia added.

“I’ll watch him,” Sandrina said, walking over to Henuva. “If he tries anything, I’ll kill him.”

“Would you really murder your prisoner?” Henuva asked.

“Your people annihilated my planet, made mine an endangered species. I am looking for a reason to dig my claws into your throat,” Sandrina countered.

Henuva looked at Dax, a plea for sympathy spread across his face. Dax watched the Valtukta closely, his gut told him the expression was a manipulation.

“You’ve seen what those claws can do, I’m not about to do anything that’ll risk turning them on me,” Dax replied.

Henuva’s expression soured. Dax, followed closely by Dalia, made his way back to the site where they’d set up their sleeping gear.

“Do you ever wonder how Dal’no’nuuur is doing?” Dax asked, removing his armor.

“All the time,” Dalia replied. “Why? Do you think about Earth?”

Dax scoffed and shook his head.

“Absolutely not. But it may be necessary for us to go back, which has got me thinking about the Dal’no, because we will need to know the coordinates to get there, and it seems your people are the only ones who have them.”

Dax lay down; Dalia lay next to him. She propped her head up on her arm.

“The base my father ran had everything our people needed to thrive once the Underbeast threat was eliminated,” Dalia explained. “Seeds would’ve been scattered around the planet to re-grow its forests while artificial wombs would grow clones of the native species to repopulate.”

“You guys perfected cloning?” Dax asked.

“Only of animals; it’s been proven impossible to clone an individual. There’s an integral part of truly sentient life that can’t be artificially created.”

“Some people would call that the soul,” Dax replied. “But don’t let any scientists hear you say that.”

“Why not?” Dalia asked.

“They tend to believe in what they can run tests on. So far, no test has been developed that can measure a soul, so they don’t believe in it. Most tend to think when we die, that’s it, lights out, we become food for the worms,” Dax replied.

“And you?”

Silence fell over the former professor. His mind raced, trying to find the perfect words to pick while thoughts of his wife and daughter flashed in his mind.

“If there’s nothing after this,” Dax said, motioning to the world around them, “then there’s no point to this. And if I thought this was it, I would’ve ended myself after getting justice for my family.”

A smile spread across Dalia’s face. She leaned forward and pressed her forehead against his.

“Then I am glad that you’re still here. Get some rest. Who knows what tomorrow will bring.”

Dalia leaned away and lay back down. Dax nodded, closing his eyes.

EPILOGUE

The sonic boom of a ship entering the atmosphere at full speed caused Dax’s eyes to shoot open. He winced at the sunlight while Dalia’s powerful hand grabbed his arm and ripped him to his feet. Squinting, he shielded his eyes long enough to see the boots of his armor. He quickly stepped into them and started to put the equipment on while his eyes adjusted.

“What’s going on?” Dax shouted.

“A ship with Valtukta energy signatures has entered the planet’s atmosphere and is heading here,” Kane shouted. The clattering of metal against metal rang out.

Dax pulled the upper half of his armor on, clamping it in place while Henuva laughed.

“They’ve decided to come early. You may kill me, but you won’t escape them!”

Dax clipped his helmet on as his eyes finished adjusting. Kane threw the last of the Valtukta equipment into the Junkyard. Sandrina was already inside. Dax motioned to the open door.

“How’d they find us so fast?” Sandrina asked.

Dax looked at Henuva. He snarled while a wide smile spread across his face.

“His translator,” Dax shouted. “We forgot to take out his freaking translator.”

Drawing his knife, he rushed toward the scientist.

“Dalia, get in the ship,” he ordered.

He grabbed Henuva’s head, yanked it forward and dug the tip of his knife into the back of the scientist’s skull once more. With two quick cuts, Dax revealed the translator. He popped the disk out with the edge of his blade before crushing it with a stomp of his boot.

“Mark, can you get me an exact position on that ship?”

“I can, what are you thinking?”

Dax looked at the small Valtukta vessel, still hovering a hundred yards away. Dalia reached the Junkyard. She threw Kane in before jumping in herself.

“I’m thinking I’ll go, I’ll stop it,” he said, zombie-like butterflies forming in his gut.

“You don’t know how to fly a Valtukta ship,” Kane shouted. “Let’s not even begin with the logistics of a dog fight.”

“Or the fact that it no longer has any weapons, or shielding, and is really just a transport vessel at this point.”

“At least I’ll die knowing you did too,” Henuva growled.

“Mark, I’m going to need you to do some of the fanciest, most precise flying you’ve ever done in your life. Do you think you can do it?” Dax asked.

“Oh, I can do it,” Mark replied.

“Okay, now do you think the Junkyard will let you do it?” Kane cut in.

“I’ll make her,” Mark replied.

“01011001,” the Junkyard announced.

“What’d she say?” Dalia asked.

“Nothing, I’m still working on those kinks,” Mark replied.

“You keep losing body parts every time our paths cross,” Dax snarled, shoving Henuva’s head to the side. “If we cross paths again, it may not be a limb you lose.”

With that, he turned and sprinted toward the Valtukta ship.

“Dax, this is crazy,” Kane replied.

“How many of our crew can read the Valtukta language?” Dax asked.

“I can,” Sandrina replied.

“Okay, but can you fly a ship?” Dax asked.

He reached the vessel and jumped in. Paneling and wires dangled from the inside of the gutted, yet still-running vessel.

“I have extensive experience in dozens of ships,” Sandrina replied.

Dax charged to the cockpit. He sat in the chair and looked at the noted controls. With a few taps of his fingers, the ship rattled. A warning that the platform was still open flashed on the screen. He dismissed it.

“Mark, I need that ship’s location,” Dax called out.

A shadow engulfed the desert around Dax. The walls of his mouth ran dry.

“It’s right above me, isn’t it,” Dax muttered.

“Yep,” Mark replied.

“Give me a fifteen-second head start and then make sure that hatch is as open as you can get it,” Dax ordered. “And don’t miss, please.”

“I won’t,” Mark replied.

Dax pushed forward on the controls; the ship lurched backward. He stopped, messing with its tilt. The controls were inverted.

“This is not how I played games as a kid,” Dax muttered.

He turned the ship’s nose to the sky to see a frigate looming high above them. Dax took several deep breaths. He tightened his stomach and leaned as far into the seat as he could. With a powerful pull, the ship accelerated toward the vessel above.

“Henuva, what are you doing?” a voice crackled over the radio.

“I’ve got bugs on my six,” Dax shouted in Valtukta. “They’ve heavily damaged my ship; I will be coming in hot.”

Dax’s fingers fiddled with what looked like a leap drive’s control. The familiar hum rang through the ship before a notification on one of the screens said the leap drive was ready.

“Six? Hot? What codes are those?” the voice on the other end called out.

“They’re old, but they’ll check out, Dax explained.

He stood up on the back of the chair, gravity pulling at him, but nothing his suit couldn’t compensate for.

“They, in fact, do not. Slow your ascent or we will open fire!”

Dax’s finger tapped the leap drive activation button. He jumped to the cockpit’s door jamb. The leap drive started to hum. He lowered himself, hanging by his right arm while the roar of the engines flickered, preparing for a jump.

Dax opened his left hand, released with his right and curled his fingers. The magnetic pull yanked him toward the open door. Deactivating the magnetic tool, he flew out of the ship just as its leap drive hurled the vessel into the frigate above.

As he turned to watch the explosion, gravity grabbed Dax and pulled him toward the ground almost twenty thousand feet below. On contact, a blinding flash of light engulfed the smaller vessel. Ripples of energy tore through the length of the larger ship before giving way to a series of smaller explosions. The frigate ripped itself apart, sending debris into the upper atmosphere while also raining down toward him.

“Boring conversation anyway,” Dax mused.

He turned toward the ground, opening his arms and legs to slow his descent. The Junkyard roared to life below him, sending out a trail of smoke during its ascent. Dax’s H.U.D. tried to target a location for a non-lethal impact but continued to come up with errors.

“How are things looking down there?” Dax asked.

A piece of debris plummeted past him. He looked over his shoulder to see several escape pods fire while the ship broke in half and started to fall to the ground.

“Ready when you are,” Mark replied.

The Junkyard continued to close in. Dax fidgeted with his bracer, connecting his propulsion system’s activation to the magnetic tool in his glove.

“NOW!” he shouted with his ship less than a thousand feet away.

The Junkyard took a hard turn. Dax’s H.U.D. immediately targeted the open hatch on its side, noting a six percent survival chance. Leaning back, the former professor pointed his feet where the door would be.

“Dax, you’re going to miss the door. You’re coming in too hot,” Kane shouted.

“Hold speed, I’ve got this,” Dax called back.

Burning wreckage started to rain down around him. Spreading his legs to get them out of his hand’s range, he opened his palm as the Junkyard passed below him. The magnetic repulsion along with those in his suit caused his survivability calculator to skyrocket.

Dax held his breath and closed his eyes just before impact. He continued to slow before being flipped by the magnetic field in his hand and slammed into the outer wall of the restroom.

He closed his hand and opened his eyes. Kane slammed the outer door shut and locked it.

“01110011 01101000,” the Junkyard announced.

“We’re airtight,” Mark called out.

He turned the ship toward the plummeting vessel. He maneuvered around the debris he could dodge while opening fire on what he couldn’t. Flames engulfed the Junkyard while they shot through the disintegrating war vessel. Once clear, Mark threw the leap drive lever forward, space shifted blue in front of them, and those who weren’t already pinned to the back wall were thrown against it.

Mark punched the air in celebration. He turned, the harness holding him in place above them. Pointing at all four pinned against the back wall, he continued with a little victory dance.

“THAT, ladies and gentlemen, is how you fly!” Mark shouted.

A snap sounded; Mark’s harness flipped out from in front of him, sending the teen plummeting toward the back wall with the rest.

BOOKS IN THE STARSHIP BANDITS UNIVERSE

1. Starship Bandits

2. The Last Scoundrel

3. Deadman’s Run

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