“I’m trying.”
“Trying won’t keep the Golds from the gates of Mars.”
“Are all rangers such slaggers?” I mutter.
“Lass, I’m a dove compared to the hyenas out there. Me friends are dying back home, and I’m out here with you, sniffing. Any other would toss ya outthe airlock, call the hunt closed, and get back to real soldiering before the war’s lost.”
The airlock opens in silence between us.
“Go on then. None would know,” I say.
“Tempting. But Republic Intelligence says you’re the link to a weapons lab. Ain’t seen a thing that’d make me agree, but it ain’t my duty to agree, savvy? Now let’s work. And by the way, no one gets to choose their own callsign.”
“What was yours?”
“Badassmotherfucker.”
With a short burst from his gustpack, Fel backflips into the void. I follow, a foot shorter, twenty kilos lighter, and nine years less veteran in the realm of unforgiving cold, rock, and shadow that is the asteroid belt.
Using one burst from my pack to clear the airlock, and a second to angle up, and a third to coast parallel to the asteroid’s terrain, I match Fel’s velocity.“Clean your lines,”he says.“You’re drifting.”I course correct.“Reduce your velocity.”I reduce a half percent, growing annoyed.
His metal feet greet the surface of the asteroid, and he rebounds into a loping gait. I mimic with less grace.“Your trajectory’s filthy, Piggy. Dampen your kin imp by three per.”
He’s right, of course. My gait was taking me higher and higher, out of sync with his route, which would expose me to sniper fire if the asteroid wasn’t abandoned like all the others we’ve searched these last months. I adjust.“Better.The anomaly is three clicks out. Shadow me, and train your sensors six to twelve.”
“Check.”
“Pilot, what’s your read?”
Xaria’s voice is smooth and one note.“Skies clear. Omega scan inconclusive. Anomaly is metallic. Material unknown.”
“Begin orbital dep recon. One eye on ground, one on sky. Just because we don’t see the Moonies on scanners don’t mean they aren’t in the neighborhood.”
Sightings of Rim hunting squadrons are growing more common even as sightings of Republic squadrons grow rarer. Flying dark, we don’t get reports from Mars. Even without them, if the war in the Core is going like the war in this sector of the Rim, we know we’re on borrowed time. Rumor has it even the Obsidians are joining in on picking the Republic’s corpse. I wonder if the raids three sectors over are from Fá, if Volga is only a few million clicks away.
Fel moves with appropriate urgency and I struggle to keep up.
To the sound of our own breath, we lope over the dead landscape. Nothing but cratered rock and shadows move beneath.
I follow Fel’s line and land lightly on the edge of a huge crater where our scans picked up the anomaly. I search for a reaction from the parasite. Nothing.
“Drones out,” Fel orders. The four drones detach from his left shoulder anddisappearinto a crater. Mine join. Within thirty seconds, my third drone finds a human design, flags it, and begins analysis. A gun turret, depowered with a hardline running into the stone. “Ancient model,” Fel says as we inspect it.“Power source. Won’t be far.”
“This ain’t it,” I say.
“Parasite talking to you again?”
“No.”
“Less talking and more sniffing then.Drones detect durosteel below.”
I follow Fel down into the crater where we find a metal plate thirty meters by twenty embedded in the rock. Searching around the perimeter of the metal plate, Fel finds a manual control panel. His metal hands peel its lock away like it’s tissue. I clear off the door as it retracts.
“Pilot, we’ve found an aperture. Likely a pirate nest. Deserted by the age of it. Continue orbital survey.”
Fel swivels forward his Rim-style rifle from its back holster, and drops into the darkness. I pull my smaller rifle and follow, down, down into the depths.
“Yut. Pirates,” Fel mutters in defeat before I land in what once was a mid-sized hangar, judging by what our helmet lights can illuminate. An old corvette larger than theSnowballlies abandoned in the center of the room. “Pilot, looks like this is a dead end. But since we’re here, we’ll stick to protocol. Full search. Piggy, you’re east. I’m west.”
