I tapped my comm and hailed the bridge. “Captain, we’ve got a plan,” I said. In fact, we were already putting this plan in motion, but I didn’t say that. “I need to know how much of the ship the entity controls. Has Mitnick managed to wrest any systems back from it?” That was my hope: that the clever hacker had done something I couldn’t and had taken control of parts of the ship another way.
Asmoded’s golden eyes gleamed with anger. He was pissed that his ship was in this state, furious, and I felt tiny. This was my fault. I should have caught this sooner, done something. He was a good captain, though, and he didn’t take that anger out on me, focusing on what was needed. “Mitnick and the Sineater have worked together to shield some important conduits with the Sineater’s symbiont. We’ve got comms, life support, and all sensors and cameras. Unfortunately, no weapons, and we are still not able to raise all the bulkheads. They’ve manually gotten a few open and tossed some of Mitnick’s drones out an airlock. We’ve got visual confirmation of how the Shadow Unit soldier got in.”
The captain indicated the hatch the soldier had accessed to slip inside—a maintenance shaft rather than an actual airlock meant for people to use. It allowed bots to go outside and make repairs on the outside of the ship, or perhaps do simple maintenance after a particularly heavy meteor storm. I considered that briefly as a viable alternative to using one of our own. It wasn’t far, would the entity try to use it over the one I wanted it to go for? More importantly… did I want to blow up a random shuttle, or one of our own?
My thoughts spun as I considered my options, and I came to only one logical conclusion. “Okay, good. I was worried I couldn’t get the hangar bay doors open. This could work.” I had started a search myself for any sign of that shuttle before, only to get interrupted when the power went out all over the ship. I was glad they’d had the same idea and found it. “Ivo and Grunn are working to shut down the engines right now. We’re going to get a shuttle out and get help.” Asmoded narrowed his eyes at me as if he didn’t quite believe that, but he did not comment. He wasn’t wrong; I never left theVarakartoomunless ordered, never. It was much more likely I’d send Thatcher on a mission like that, not go myself.
I ended the connection then, so there couldn’t be anymore questions. The last thing I needed was for the captain to tell me otherwise, or to give Thatcher a chance to object again. I could tell by the way he was scowling that he still hated what I’d come up with, but he stayed silent as I led the way to the turret’s hatch. “I know Mitnick has control of both sensors and comms, so the entity probably won’t know what we’re doing unless we change something in a bigger system. Freeing one turret should be fine.” At least, I hoped.
He stood silent watch as I worked to open the hatch, then isolate the turret from the system so it couldn’t be shut down. The entity had control of the weapons, so I had to be fast and decisive as I made my move—unplugging it, so to speak, quickly enough that it wouldn’t have time to do anything about it. The screens aligned above the seat for the manual shooter dimmed, then came back online, booting separately. I hissed, heart pounding, but nothing seemed amiss. Of course, I ran diagnostics anyway, just forpeace of mind.
Proof that the entity was aware of some of what we did came moments later, just as I’d crowed in victory that we’d taken control of the turret. A sound came from the hallway behind us, a whisper, like a breath of air. Thatcher responded immediately, far quicker than I would have. “It’s pumping gas in here. My processor indicates it’s toxic and will kill us.” He raised the helmet of his armor over his face, sealing himself in and relying on the small, limited reserve of oxygen the armor could supply.
I wasn’t wearing such armor, but I didn’t even doubt for a moment that Thatcher would let me die. There was no way to share a helmet, but this was about not inhaling the gas; skin contact might be fine. At least, I assumed that was the case, because he yanked me into his arms and freed the extra breathing straw from his helmet so he could share his oxygen. I sucked in a breath through the small mouthpiece while yanking my handheld scanner from my belt to do my own analysis.
Between breaths, I said, “Armory, over there. I can suit up myself.” Thatcher swung me higher in his arms and jogged in the direction I had pointed, thankfully to a room not separated from us by a closed bulkhead. My handheld scanner indicated that a gas used in fire suppression had been released. It wasn’t poisonous, but so heavy it pushed all oxygen from the air and caused suffocation. That little straw Thatcher had offered was my lifeline, and it felt like far too tenuous a hold on life.
The armory responded to Thatcher’s code and unlocked, so the entity had not managed to lock us out. Rows of rifles, pistols, knives, and even a laser cannon were stocked here. Most importantly, spare universal suits hung in a row at theback. It was awkward grabbing one while Thatcher held me and I was forced to breathe from a thin tube attached to his helmet. Even more awkward to yank one over my coveralls, but I needed the whole suit on to be able to use its oxygen.
Eventually, I managed to engage the helmet, and it sealed with a hiss. It felt different—strange—to be wearing the same black armor that Thatcher wore. Like I was going into battle, but I couldn’t fight. It was true, though: I would need this suit every bit as much as Thatcher needed his for this plan to work. All the entity had done was hurry this along.
Through the faceplate of my helmet, I met Thatcher’s eyes. His expression was closed, furious, but beneath it, I saw the fear. I raised my hand, now covered in a black glove, and touched the side of his head. “We’ll make it. I can do this.”
Chapter 25
Thatcher
Letting Ysa go was possibly the hardest thing I’d ever done. I was so used to always being her shadow, her guard, that using her as bait was like asking me to pull my own heart out of my chest. It felt raw, wrong, terrifying. Ysa was so brave, though, and sleek in the blackVarakartoomarmor—even if it looked weird with her long braid awkwardly stuffed into the limited space the helmet offered. Not long ago, Mitnick had confirmed he’d sealed the ship’s airlocks, including the hangar bays. Nothing was going to get in or out. The only place left unlocked was the little maintenance hatch the Shadow Unit soldier Eric had used to get aboard.
Ysa had opened up the bulkheads to reach it, and not long ago, she’d vanished into the narrow hole beneath thepanels in the floor. As the air had become breathable again, the entity had given up on its attack, and we’d said our goodbyes with our helmets off. I still ached recalling the moment. The hardest thing I’d ever done: letting her go. I’d begged her not to do it, and I wasn’t proud of that.
“Ysa, don’t…” My voice had been so hoarse it felt like gravel in my throat. “We’ll find another way. Therehasto be another way.” She’d shaken her head, her blue eyes shiny, like she was ready to cry, and that only made this harder. The brutal, angry side of me was more than willing to take advantage of that hint of weakness—capitalize on her own fear and doubts, and put a stop to the danger she was about to put herself in. I had even opened my mouth to do exactly that, and then I’d shut it again.
Ysathea loved this ship, and it would kill her—kill all of us, perhaps—if we didn’t find a way to stop the entity. As much as I hated this plan, it was also the only plan we had. My little engineer was a genius, and if there was anyone who could pull this off, it was her. So I dragged her close, and, breathing raggedly, I pressed my forehead to hers. “I love you, Ysathea. You are my heart, my soul. You cannot die. Understood?” I didn’t say it, but I knew she heard what was in my heart. The rawness that would explode into death if I were to lose her.
Even the pain in her eyes I’d seen would not change that. There was no promise she could make me swear that would stop me from becomingexactlylike Eric had been. If she died now, there would be nothing but death and destruction until someone managed to take me out. It wasn’t fair to Ysa, but she truly was my soul, and without her, there wouldbe only death.
Her voice had been bright, bold, far more confident than her eyes told me she was. “I’ll come back to you, Thatcher. You are not him; you’re mine.” And that’s how she’d slipped down into the ship, deep into darkness. It wasn’t true, but it felt like she’d vanished into thin air. This was farewell, the last I’d ever see of her. To rescue the ship, I was forced to sacrifice the one person in the quadrant who anchored me to something good. Something potentially kind. To rescue theVarakartoom, I had to let Ysa go.
The ship’s engines shut off unexpectedly. We were suddenly dead in the water, our speed cut in half, the ship decelerating and causing me to stumble forward and nearly slam into the nearest wall. That hadn’t been part of Ysa’s distractions, but it made sense. Just cutting the engines might not be enough to stop us from reaching the waterworld the entity wanted to return to. It was the next solar system over; we might already have reached it. To tempt the entity to follow Ysa onto the stolen shuttle… the ship had to be a useless, immovable hunk of metal.
Perhaps my little engineer had managed to give her engineers more instructions. Unfortunately, I couldn’t tell if it had worked. My only option was to fulfill the task Ysa had assigned to me. I righted myself and focused on doing just that, boots thudding against the metal floor as I bolted back to the turret Ysa had carefully worked to isolate from the rest of the ship and place under my control. I burst into the narrow chamber, then threw myself into the seat.
Targeting systems came online; my hands tightened around the manual controls. I swung the turret in the right direction, squinted with bated breath, and waited for Ysa’s signal. I’d shoot that bastard, kill it once and for all. It wasmy task to disable the shuttle’s engines in a much more permanent fashion than those of theVarakartoomcurrently were, while Ysa would send that ship on a path headed straight for the nearest sun. With no engines, all the entity could do was go along for the ride.
There. Moments later, I saw it float into view. A clunky, boxy shuttle that shouldn’t have managed to get so close to theVarakrtoomwithout anyone noticing, but had anyway. I knew all the tricks on how to do that, drift with the engines off, move so slowly it appeared to be space debris to the ship’s sensors. The Shadow Unit soldier—he’d been a very skilled opponent indeed—but now something good was going to be done with his ship.
“I see it,” I breathed over my comm to Ysa. “Did you manage to set the heading? Or do I need to nudge it?” It would be a bit trickier, but I could do it. Use the turret to adjust the course of the shuttle even further and send it into one of the three pale, thin-looking suns that dominated the waterworld’s solar system.
“Heading set, no nudge needed. Get ready to fire.” She hesitated before she said the words that destroyed my world. “I didn’t make it off the shuttle, Thatcher. I’m sorry. But you’ve got to fire anyway.” Denial rattled through my body, claws raking my flesh like fire. A growl drowned out every noise, even the soft hum of the turret I controlled. I controlled nothing. I had let Ysa go, and now shewas doomed.
***
Ysathea
My ears burned with sharp pain as Thatcher’s roar came through the comm. My eardrums popped and bled, damaging some of my hearing, but not all. Not nearly enough of it. That sound was the embodiment of the pain I felt inside me. Not because I was scared of dying, weirdly enough, but because I was so damn worried about Thatcher. My human mate. I knew he was going to lose it without me, and it was a thought I couldn’t bear. He’d do terrible things until someone killed him, I’d seen that in his eyes when we’d parted ways only a few minutes ago.
Thatcher’s feelings, they were so obvious to me now. He wore his heart on his sleeve, at least when it came to me. And now this stupid plan of mine… it was going to fall apart. I wanted to save him, as well as everyone on theVarakartoom. Now there was only one choice: doom everyone but perhaps keep Thatcher for a little longer, or save the ship and forfeit my life—and thus his. Impossible.
