“Wait here,” Leonidas barked over his shoulder, then sprinted toward the crates.
The grenade had blown up closer to them than it had to the doorway, so he expected the people to be taking cover, their hands above their heads. He sprang into the air, leaping over the ten-foot stack of crates. Four Alliance soldiers in dark combat armor came into view as he descended.
“Look—” was all one had time to shout.
Another jerked his blazer up to shoot at Leonidas, but he kicked it out of the man’s hands as he landed. Instead of firing, he jammed the butt of his rifle into the closest man’s chest, sending him flying. He grabbed another with his armored hand and hurled him into the crates. Though heavy and large, the crates tumbled down all around the man, knocking into others at the same time. One struck the back of Leonidas’s shoulder, but he barely noticed. He batted aside a rifle pointed at him as it went off. The bolt grazed the side of his helmet and was deflected. The rifle flew out of the soldier’s hands and across the bay, striking a wall on the far side. Leonidas grabbed him by the seams of his chest plate before he could skitter backward. He heaved the man from his feet, hurtling him into the wall with enough force to smash in the side of his helmet. The soldier did not rise again.
The men’s armor would protect them from blazer fire; being smashed into a wall by a cyborg was another matter.
Leonidas spun, looking for the remaining men. The one under the crates was not moving, but two others had backed up and opened fire on him. The display scrolling down the sides of his faceplate lit up as his armor took damage. He snatched up his rifle again and fired at one man as he charged toward the other.
“Go, go,” Sadangi’s harsh whisper sounded from the middle of the bay, barely audible over the firing of weapons.
Had he and Thorian left the cover of the corridor? Why, damn it? They would be at risk now.
Knowing he had to finish his foes soon, especially since there could be other dangers in the bay, Leonidas bowled into his target like a wrecking ball taking down a building wall. The man tried to spring away, and almost made it, the servos in his leg armor giving him faster than average speed and strength, but Leonidas read his movements and compensated, striking the soldier when he was in midair. He wrapped his arms around his foe, turning him and bringing the man down over his armored knee. A crunch sounded as the soldier’s chest plate cracked. Leonidas hurled him into the last man standing.
The soldier dove out of the way. Leonidas started to charge after him, but the sound of weapons firing filled the bay. It wasn’t from any of the men he had been dealing with.
“Cyborg!” Sadangi yelled, then lowered his voice to bark, “Leave it!”
Leonidas sprang over the jumbled pile of crates and soldiers, and the bomber came into view. Sadangi crouched behind one of its wheels, gripping Thorian’s wrist to keep him still while they dodged fire that came down from above. Blazer bolts glanced off the spaceship and splashed to the deck. One of Thorian’s hands was outstretched toward a bag on the floor, the bag he had been clutching as he ran.
A rifle poked out from the dark spot in the ceiling, the damned vent Leonidas had noticed earlier.
“Hells of an ambush,” he muttered, firing.
Even though only a couple of inches of the rifle barrel stuck out of the vent, his blazer bolt slammed into it. A yelp came from the opening, from some ductwork that must stretch above the ceiling, and the weapon tumbled down, clacking off the cockpit canopy and falling to the deck. Leonidas made sure Sadangi and Thorian were not in immediate danger, then leaped into the air. The ceiling was more than thirty feet above them, but he cleared the bomber and flew up, catching the lip of the duct.
Trusting his armor to protect him from a couple of shots if need be, he pulled himself into the hole. There was only room for one person to crawl around inside, and he spotted the sniper scooting away from him as fast as possible.
Leonidas almost let him go, since the man had been disarmed, and he wasn’t sure his broad shoulders, made even broader by his armor, would fit into the duct. But the fleeing figure hadn’t gone that far, so Leonidas tried to lunge after him. His opponent also wore combat armor, so he would struggle in the limited space too.
Metal screeched in his ears as his shoulders rubbed the sides, but Leonidas caught the soldier when he was trying to turn around a corner in the ductwork. His gauntleted fingers wrapped around the man’s armored ankle. He yanked back, and more metal squealed as his prey was hauled back around the corner.
The soldier flipped open a blazer mounted in his arm plate and fired as Leonidas hauled him closer on his back. Leonidas lunged up and, with his free hand, grasped his foe’s arm. He squeezed with all of his strength, and the blazer snapped and stopped firing. The man screamed under the crushing strength of Leonidas’s grip. He kicked, but even the armored boots were not enough to hurt Leonidas through his chest plate.
“You were going to shoot a ten-year-old boy?” he growled, though he doubted the man heard him.
He let go with one hand, but only so he could grab his rifle again. He flicked it to sustained fire and aimed at the soldier’s faceplate. The armor would have deflected numerous bursts, but Leonidas, furious at the sniper’s coldhearted audacity, kept the energy beam focused on the helmet. Eventually it burned through. The man’s dying screams tore through the duct. Only when they ended did Leonidas release his foe and scoot back to the opening.
He dropped down, landing on the deck beside the bomber where Sadangi and Thorian still crouched. Sadangi gripped his pistol, as did Thorian, but none of their enemies were moving.
“Fire up the bomber,” Leonidas said, and jogged to the bag lying on the deck.
He picked it up and returned it to the boy, holding it out for him.
Thorian gaped at him for a moment before moving. Leonidas did not know if it was a gape of thanks and appreciation or one of fear. As often as Leonidas had worked for the emperor, he had never interacted with Markus’s family. Depending on what Thorian had heard of cyborgs, he might think of Leonidas as a tool to be used or as a monster to be avoided.
Thorian closed his mouth and accepted the bag. “Thank you, Colonel Adler.”
“You’re welcome, Your Highness,” he said as the bomber’s engines came on.
Leonidas waved the boy to the cockpit where Sadangi already sat, and boosted him up on the passenger side. He took a long look around the hangar before following him inside. A groan came from the direction of the crates, but Leonidas doubted that soldier would be a further problem.
A beep sounded. Sadangi must have hit a remote to depressurize the hangar bay. The power had come on and lights were flashing around the doors.
Leonidas jumped up and had barely settled into the seat beside Sadangi before the canopy came down, almost catching his hand as it closed. He thanked his cyborg reflexes when he evaded that fate, especially since the bomber was already lifting off. A few seconds later, the double doors slid open, and the rough stone, concave walls of a crater on the asteroid came into view. The craft glided out, and the doors slid shut behind them, seeming to disappear into the shadowy contours of the rock. Perfectly camouflaged.
It might not matter. As soon as they cleared the crater, they would come into view of any ships waiting outside. And Leonidas had no doubt that the Alliance ships would be there, waiting for their soldiers to need a pickup and to eventually finish off the asteroid with bombs. Getting out of here would not be easy. The night side of Perun was visible in the distance, clumps of city lights illuminating much of the visible continent, but that was not their destination.
“You weren’t in that duct long enough, cyborg,” Sadangi said as Thorian crawled between the seats and settled into the cargo space behind them, amid supplies for the multi-day trip to Dustor. A surround-flow holodisplay hung in the air, cupping Sadangi’s head as it showed him the asteroid and space around them, along with other data relevant to the ship.
“Oh?” Leonidas thought about po
inting out that a major should call him sir or colonel, but the man knew that already and was choosing to be insolent. Ah, well. Leonidas had endured far worse in his career.
“Thought you might get stuck, and we could leave you there.” Sadangi grinned at him before returning his focus to the field of stars ahead of them.
“Wouldn’t that be a stellar way to reward a man who helped you get to your ship,” Leonidas murmured.
“Well, you did tell the emperor you wanted to stay there. And I was prepared to be vastly entertained by a grunt in combat armor stuck in a duct, his ass-end hanging out, thirty feet above the deck.”
Leonidas gave him a flat look, rethinking his decision not to comment on the insolence. It was one thing for the pilot to forget to call him sir; it was another to talk about his “ass-end.”
Sadangi cursed and flicked a finger at the sensor panel as they approached the rim of the crater. A display rose in the air, showing dozens of blips—other ships—dotting the space around the asteroid.
“They’re going to be on us like flies on a horse’s ass in a second,” Sadangi said. “Hang on, Your Highness.” He did not tell Leonidas to do the same.
“You have a preoccupation with asses,” Leonidas said, fastening his harness, the straps stretching to encompass his armor. He glanced at Thorian, wondering if his parents allowed such language to be used around him.
The boy did not appear distressed or disturbed. Rather, his expression was oddly vacant, his gaze unfocused.
“I like what I like.” Sadangi offered another grin, though it was a quick one. He returned his focus to flying and called up the navigational holodisplay. The computer projected it around him, ships and stars floating in the air.
One of those ships was changing course, heading in their direction.
“Already got company coming,” Sadangi said, taking them over the rim of the crater. At first, he followed the massive body, hugging bumps and dipping into craters, probably intending to use the asteroid for cover for as long as possible before shooting into space. “He’s not moving quickly, though. Maybe he’s not sure he spotted us.”
Leonidas reached for the console, unfolding the secondary weapons platform, a stick and buttons that always made him feel like he was playing a video game rather than helping with combat. He much preferred the ground to the sky, and fighting in close quarters rather than sniping at enemies miles away. That didn’t mean he wasn’t capable of doing it. He tapped a display to life so he could see what kind of ammunition they had available.
“A Stealth Fang would have been useful here,” Sadangi grumbled, swooping through another crater.
“I’m surprised the emperor’s people didn’t have one standing by.”
“They did. That was supposed to be our escape ship. This was the backup to the backup. We were completely sold out by those corporate bastards, cyborg. After working arm-in-arm with the empire for fifty years, they decided they’d have more opportunities for riches if the upstart Alliance was in charge. It’s going to be chaos out there with the empire gone.” Sadangi lowered his voice. “Maybe that’s what they wanted.”
Since Leonidas had not been told who the traitor was, he did not comment. Nobody ever told the Cyborg Corps anything about politics and internal machinations and power struggles. They were the fleet’s tools, nothing more. He witnessed glimpses here and there, and paid attention to the news, but knew that much more went on behind closed doors.
Up ahead, a squadron of Alliance Cobras and Strikers dropped out of orbit and aimed for the back end of the asteroid, the end where the collapsed hangar bay lay. Hadn’t they already damaged that enough? Apparently not, because they strafed the asteroid, blasting it with torpedoes and e-cannons. Leonidas gritted his teeth, wishing to attack all of them, to punish them for their audacity. It was as if they wanted to annihilate the emperor and everything that remained of the government. Maybe they did. Leonidas had not heard any demands for surrender come over the comm.
Sadangi eyed Leonidas’s hands on the weapons controls and veered them in another direction. “Don’t get any ideas. We can’t take them on. We’re just getting the boy out of here.”
“That’ll be hard with that one following us.” Leonidas pointed at the ship that was turning again to follow them.
“I’m surprised there’s only one. That could change in a second. I’ve skipped along, licking the rocks, as long as I can.” Sadangi lifted the bomber’s nose, and a field of stars filled the view.
The Alliance craft, a short-range, one-man fighter that bristled with weapons, was faster than the bomber. It swooped down and jumped onto their tail.
“We’re going to have to deal with it before we can head into space,” Sadangi said, waving at Leonidas’s weapons console.
“I’m attempting to do so,” Thorian said, his expression less distant now and full of concentration.
“Uh, sure you are, Your Highness. Maybe you can throw some of those blocks at it.”
Thorian frowned at him for a second before the expression of concentration returned. Leonidas was ready to use the bomber’s weapons if Sadangi got him a shot, but he watched the boy out of the corner of his eye. Markus had never spoken of it openly, but there were rumors that his two sons had both developed Starseer talents, the first in the imperial dynasty to do so in six generations. Erik, the older boy, the one being groomed for the succession, had died in the early years of the war. Leonidas might have believed the young man could do some of the Starseer tricks, such as telekinesis and telepathy, but Thorian was only ten. Was it possible, or was he being delusional? There had to be a reason Markus was sending him off to hide amid the Starseers.
The fighter fired at them, and a thud reverberated through the bomber as the e-cannon blast thumped their shields.
“Turn back, so I can target him,” Leonidas said.
“I can’t. Look—” Sadangi swiped a finger through the display filling the cockpit. “There are four, no, six more ships leaving their formation. He’s already reported us. If we slow down or turn back, they’ll be on us like blood fleas on a bramisar’s hairy—” he glanced at Thorian, “—neck.”
Leonidas squeezed the stick. He couldn’t do anything from his current position, and that frustrated him.
The weapons console beeped and flashed at him. He loosened his grip on the stick.
“You break my ship, and I’ll make you get out and ride on the thrusters,” Sadangi said.
“Your ship? Did you know it existed a half hour ago?”
“No, but I’ve been in it ten seconds longer than you, and I’m flying. That makes it mine for now.”
“I need silence for concentration,” Thorian said, and clamped his tongue between his teeth, his young forehead furrowing.
Leonidas snapped his mouth shut, feeling chastised. The boy was right. Whether he could do anything or not, arguing was pointless now.
“He’s veering away,” Sadangi said, his gaze locked to a rear camera display.
Thorian smiled slightly. “He believes someone else shot us and we’re floating destitute.”
“Destitute? That’s a big word for a kid. And what are you talking about?” Sadangi flicked a few controls. “He may just be going back to join his buddies. Maybe he saw the size of the brute manning my weapons and got scared.”
Leonidas watched Thorian’s face—it had relaxed now, his eyes focused on the cockpit instead of some inner vision.
He had encountered Starseers before and knew some of what they were capable of, so he suspected the boy had, indeed, influenced that pilot. It was alarming, especially since Starseers and cyborgs had centuries of bad blood between them, but he had to consider this a good development for now.
“The other ones are still coming,” Sadangi said. They had moved away from the asteroid and into open space, which did not leave any hiding places. “I’m pushing the engines to maximum, but it looks like this ship lost some of its speed when it was retrofitted for interplanetary travel. Those
short-range fighters will all be fast. And yes, here come those six. Odd, the one that was on our tails earlier isn’t flying over to join them.”
“Can you make that pilot fire at his own squadron?” Leonidas asked.
“I can’t make him do anything,” Sadangi said. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking to the prince. Thorian?”
“I… don’t think so. It’s hard to make people go against their nature. Sometimes you can nudge them with a distraction, or make them believe they saw something they didn’t, but that’s all I can do.”
A beep came from the sensor display.
“Another ship coming into range,” Sadangi said. “A big one. It’s up ahead. I’ll try to get out of its path, hope they don’t notice us.”
The six ships were closing from behind, nearing firing range. Sadangi angled the bomber downward, trying to fly under the one heading toward them. The sensors showed it as a large vessel, a warship probably. Unless they lucked out and it ended up being an imperial craft, Leonidas did not see how they could get out of this.
“I don’t suppose you can convince those other six fellows to change course?” he asked quietly.
“I can’t do that many at once.” Thorian bit his lip. “I can try to influence the leader.”
Sadangi groaned. “Those tricks aren’t going to matter. That’s an Alliance warship. And it’s changing its course to intercept us.”
“Is it faster than we are?”
“Yes.”
The view shifted as the bomber flowed into a loop. It turned and straightened itself, heading straight back toward the six fighters pursuing it.
“What are you doing?” Leonidas asked.
“You’re trained for combat. I thought you’d recognize it.” Sadangi waved at his side of the console. “Get those weapons hot.”
“This may not be the best tactic, considering the value of your passenger.”