Dying World Page 3

  I channeled an infuse strength spell, and forced my armor into a more comfortable position. My whole body ached something awful. Not enough to keep me from sleeping though. I closed my eyes, and prayed that I was right in my estimates on our arrival.

  Turns out I wasn’t.

  I slept right through the rest of the flight, and only woke up when the landing strut began to whir down. I blinked awake, realizing instantly that I’d somehow slept through re-entry.

  Now or never.

  I took a quick breath, then channeled an infuse strength spell. The armor became manageable, and the instant the landing strut crunched down on pocked concrete I started to run.

  We’d landed on a weathered airstrip nestled in a small valley. A narrow road threaded up over the mountainside in the distance, and since that was the only way in or out of the compound I realized that would be where these guys would almost certainly be headed.

  I ran the opposite direction, sprinting into the darkness toward the rocky hills in the distance for all I was worth.

  Then the unthinkable happened. My foot caught on a cracked stone, and I careened forward. The armor insulated me from the pain of the fall, but I went skidding across the runaway in a shower of sparks.

  Behind me the ramp was whirring into view. These guys were efficient, that was for depths damned sure. They were already clomping down the ramp in their mismatched body armor. That was interesting.

  They hadn’t claimed any of the cargo in the same way I had, which meant that whoever they reported to probably didn’t honor mercenary salvage laws.

  Strange thoughts given that I was on my ass out in the open, with hostiles approaching.

  Thankfully, my extended nap had fully refilled my magical reserves. I hadn’t mastered advanced spells like invisibility, but I could use a simple camouflage spell. That had been the very first one most first-year boys learned back at the academy, and it had absolutely nothing to do with the girl’s locker room.

  I closed my eyes and channeled the spell. Dream swirled around me, and my armor took on the texture and appearance of cracked runway. I appeared to be an especially rough patch that most people would avoid.

  Oddly, the little halo icon brightened again. Was it linked to me spending magic, even magic that didn’t directly target the armor?

  The Remora’s external lights began snapping on one by one, and for a single terrifying moment I wondered if they’d somehow seen me.

  One of the flood lights splashed uncomfortably close, but being on the opposite side of the ship meant I was out of their direct field of view. If I lay there and didn’t move, then I might be able to hide until they left. Then, theoretically at least, I’d be able to escape.

  All I could do was wait. I lay there and watched as pairs of lurkers in mismatched environmental armor carried boxes onto a waiting transport, which was even more battered than they were. All their equipment was like that, ancient scavenged stuff that barely worked.

  It looked like they’d either never gotten their hands on a decent haul, or more likely sold everything they recovered and lived frugally. I found it interesting that, from what I could see, anyway, lurkers were just scavengers who preyed on people instead of ships.

  The holos made them out to be part monster, or maybe even another species altogether. They were larger than life and twice as scary. These guys? They were just bandits, really.

  Then a pair of figures emerged wearing the same armor I had on, both with the helmets on so I couldn’t make out faces. The leaders, apparently. They moved for the rover’s pilot’s compartment, separating them from the rest of the lurkers in the cargo hold.

  I watched as they loaded the last of the cargo, and tried to ignore the knot between my shoulders. They were chatting amiably, though the Remora’s still cooling engines kept issuing metallic pings, which made it impossible to hear what they were saying.

  The last of the lurkers loaded onto the transport, and the rover began the slow climb up the road and out of the valley.

  I stared up at the Remora, and wondered if it really could be that simple. Had they not left any guards behind? I mean that might make sense, right? What would they need guards for? This place was remote, and the original crew was dead, at least as far as I knew.

  I waited another fifteen minutes before moving, despite the mounting discomfort. My father had been right about that part at least. I could make my body do more than I’d thought, if my ass was truly on the line. Mind over matter and all that.

  When I was absolutely certain the transport wasn’t coming back I crawled to my feet and cautiously approached the Remora. The pinging of the engines had stopped, and the hum of the reactor had faded to a bare subsonic hum. That seemed like a good sign.

  I crept around to the ramp, and peered up it. They’d left the running lights on in the hold, though the main lights were off. I’d be able to see, as would anyone still aboard…if anyone was.

  The real question…was I brave enough to try taking back the ship?

  My hand settled around Ariela, and I slowly withdrew the spellpistol from my holster. I had the second pistol as well, but unlike the holos I didn’t think there’d be any advantage to using both at the same time.

  I held the pistol before me with both hands firmly wrapped around the grip as my father had endlessly drilled me, and slowly advanced up the ramp. I tried to make each footstep as quiet as possible, and thankfully the wind outside helped mask the sound.

  There were no alarming sounds from within. Nothing to suggest anyone was still aboard. My heart soared. If I was able to pull this off I couldn’t even imagine my father’s reaction.

  Not only would I have survived, but I’d return home with cargo, and a ship of my own.

  My fantasy died the instant I made it to the top of the ramp and saw the lurker standing at the far side of the hangar.

  She was tall enough to look me in the eye, and wore thick, dark hair in a simple ponytail. The woman wore patched overalls with a homespun look to them, and from the grease stains I guessed maybe she was a mechanic. That didn’t make her any less lethal.

  The lurker had me dead to rights, with a well worn spellpistol trained on my chest. Apparently I hadn’t been as quiet in my approach as I’d hoped.

  I eased my finger onto Ariela’s trigger, but that was a mistake. The lurker did what any smart merc would have done. She fired first.

  A bolt of negative energy sizzled into my chest, slamming into the ancient armor. Much to my shock the armor absorbed the worst of the spell, and other than being knocked back a step and a light sunburn on my chest, I was unharmed.

  I returned fire instinctively, and the spell I used reflected my training. A bolt of brilliant purple zipped from Ariela into the woman’s face. It caught her squarely between her eyes, and the magic disappeared inside her skull with no visible effect.

  At first anyway.

  After a moment, her very pretty eyes fluttered shut, and she collapsed bonelessly to the deck.

  I was about to cautiously advance when I heard a man’s voice yell from deeper in the ship. “Hey, Vee, we need to get this thing locked up. We’re going to be here for a while, at least until—”

  The voice was getting closer, and I realized that I had no idea how many people were still on this ship. If this guy was the last one, maybe I could take him. Or maybe I’d die in the process. Maybe he had three more friends.

  I turned on my heel, and fled back down the ramp. I had the armor and a sidearm. The ship was just gravy, and I’d rather have my life.

  5

  I sprinted down the ramp, and activated another infuse strength without slowing down. Under any other circumstances I’d have paused to congratulate myself, but I had a feeling I was about to have company.

  The area around the base of the ramp was mostly clear, so I cut sharply to the left and used the ship as cover, exactly as my father had taught me. Always find hard cover, then set up a firing lane.

  I knelt next to a landi
ng strut, which provided partial cover. Ariela was still in my hand, but I gripped her with the other hand as well, and put her in a loose firing position. I’d still need to snap the pistol up, but if I sat in that position for too long my arm would cramp. Action hero I am not.

  As expected, a set of boots clumped down the deck. A tall man with a thick auburn beard, not much older than me, spun around in a slow circle with a rifle cradled in his arms. An Inuran spellrifle from the look of it, though the barrel was scored and discolored.

  Inuran tech was rare, as it originated in another system and only showed up when an Inuran trade moon happened through the Kemet system. That was rare enough that my father had to struggle to describe the last one, when he’d been four years old.

  “Alpha, delta, get out here!” the lurker bellowed. “Someone took out Vee, and they’re still close.”

  Instinct took over. I snapped the pistol up and sighted down the barrel. My target was standing still, and I wasn’t a bad shot, so tagging him in the back with a dream bolt was easier than expected. The purple spell zipped into his back, rippling through his environmental armor and out of sight.

  I didn’t stick around to see if it took hold. It didn’t matter. It was possible this guy was bluffing, and that there was no one else in the ship. It was possible my spell would take him out, and that I’d have won the day. But I had no way to verify any of that.

  My father’s gravelly voice offered clear instruction in my head. Get clear if you aren’t certain.

  So I got clear. I sprinted away from the ship, and ducked past the broken chain fence, into the scrub brush beyond. My infuse strength spell would last a while yet, and while it was active the armor was—

  The golden halo brightened, and a flash came from the icon. Suddenly, a second, greyed-out icon appeared beneath the halo. Some sort of trident.

  At the same time powerful magic rippled inward from the armor. It touched something inside of me, and left an…awareness in its wake. Some sort of link. I could feel the armor in a way I couldn’t before.

  Instead of a suit of dense metal it was almost alive. It became lighter, and easier to maneuver. It was as if the armor wanted to obey, to assist my movements rather than have me carry it.

  All of a sudden running up the hill was a little less terrifying and a little more exhilarating. Sprinting became effortless, at least compared to what I’d been dealing with ever since putting on the armor.

  I paused briefly to glance back at the Remora and the lurker compound, but I saw no new lights and no movement. My buddy had apparently retreated back in the ship, or been dragged by someone else. Either way it confirmed that I’d made the right decision in fleeing.

  Scanning above me with the armor I spotted a clear trail leading up to a pass between two low peaks. If I could get up I’d be able to see for hundreds of clicks.

  I guided the armor into an ungainly trot, and started bounding up the ridge, toward the pass. It took an exhausting twenty minutes to reach it, which was approximately twelve years faster than I could have hiked it on foot. The armor didn’t tell me the elevation, but I guessed we were pretty high up.

  A quick glance skyward confirmed a piece of my location. I spotted Set, the moon of anger, low on the western horizon. The Vagrant Fleet glittered high above me, dominating much of the southern sky. It wasn’t too different than looking from my own backyard, which meant I couldn’t be more than a thousand clicks away from home.

  I redoubled my pace, and eventually arrived at a low, flat pass between two ancient mountains I didn’t recognize. On the other side lay salvation. Not just one city, but many. All glittered below me in a sea of unbroken sprawl, all clustered around the monorail lines flowing around the continent.

  Those monorails had been my school, friend, and transport since I was old enough to wave my hand over the terminal. The lady had smiled on me. I was almost home.

  I had plenty of time to consider the implications as I started down the other side of the mountain. It would take all night to reach the road below, and then until midday to reach the closest station, unless I found someone to give me a ride part of the way.

  If not for the armor I’d probably have already lain down, but somehow it was keeping the exhaustion at bay. Mostly. I wobbled as I walked, and my eyes kept threatening to flutter shut.

  “So,” I muttered as I walked, mostly to keep myself moving. “I can confirm that lurkers live among us. They’re relying on bad holos, and a couple decent ones, to convince us that they’re monsters. Or aliens. Or maybe the remains of whatever enemy put the Vagrant Fleet out of commission in the first place.”

  I kept walking as I chewed on that. Lurkers were people. Just normal bandits, who happened to be a touch less friendly than your average merc. My whole worldview had been upended, and as I approached the sea of glittering lights below I wondered how many of those people were lurkers. How common was this sort of thing?

  It couldn’t be profitable to stake out a random derelict at the edge of the fleet. That wouldn’t make any sense. What if potential victims never showed? You’d spend a bunch of precious O2, rations, and fuel, and for what? No, it only made sense if…if you were absolutely certain prey was about to arrive.

  And the only way to be certain would be to know in advance that a flight plan had been filed with the ministry. Someone in the ministry was probably selling that information. Hell, if this was a holo, then maybe the minister herself was a lurker. Dun dun DUN.

  The night passed slowly, and I spun out dozens of interesting conspiracy theories. That wasn’t the only thing to occupy my interest though.

  The armor itself was of great interest. I badly wanted to know what would activate the trident icon, and what that might do. Hopefully it was some sort of badass weapon. Or a pile of credits.

  And was there another icon past that one?

  Some of the more powerful mages walked around with staves that were apparently not only ancient, but also sentient magic items. Just like Ariela, but more advanced.

  Ariela was capped, meaning she had no more room to grow. She was as cool as she was ever going to get.

  But what about the armor? How cool was it going to get? What else could it do? On and on my mind went, but without some sort of user’s manual or access to academy resources I couldn’t learn any more about it.

  By the time I reached the road, I was pretty much done with walking. Even though the suit had grown lighter, and the act was easier, it was just so damned boring. People ran for fun? By the maker, why?

  I trotted up the road, each step sending up a puff of dust as I approached the towering monorail in the distance. I could see the tiny specks picking their way up the wide concrete stairs, toward the hundreds of landing areas that would whisk them across the continent.

  No one looked twice at me as I joined the trickle of foot traffic. Transports screamed by overhead as they landed near monolithic parking structures, and if not for my helmet the noise would have been deafening.

  I’d always hated crowds, but the armor provided a literal barrier, and I felt…well, more protected I guess. I walked with more confidence than I’d mustered just a few days ago.

  People got out of my way as I mounted the stairs, which surprised me until I realized that the armor still had fresh battle damage. People could see I’d been shot in the chest with a void bolt, and that I was still moving.

  Holy crap. These people were afraid of me.

  I began a quite unmanly giggle, and hurried up the stairs, toward the automated kiosk. I had a chip implanted in my palm just like everyone else, and swiped it under the scanner as I entered the turnstile.

  It would deduct over half my remaining credits, but the fare would carry me home, no matter how far out I was. I stepped through the turnstile, and hurried to the third floor, where my gate stood. As I walked over I glanced at the ticket that had been printed.

  “New Cairo?” I muttered, a bit surprised. I’d heard of the sprawling southern capital, but had n
ever visited. I glanced around, but couldn’t catch sight of any of the pyramids that made this place famous.

  For just an instant I longed for time to explore, but I needed to get home, and quick. I’d taken out a bond to cover my mission expenses, and I needed to pay it back by tomorrow, or it would go up by 20%. Every day.

  I waited patiently, and an aging white hovertrain rumbled up. I slipped inside with a crowd of passengers, most of whom kept their distance. I guess with the dirt on the armor from my fall, and the dual pistols, and the battle damage, I must actually look like the real deal.

  I decided to enjoy it, and casually rested my hand on Ariela’s grip. The people around me tensed. I released the grip and folded my arms.

  Yup, I’m kind of a bad ass…until I run into a real one.

  Interlude I

  Matron Jolene strode into the minister’s office with all the grace and dignity she’d earned over a lifetime of dealing with rulers and tyrants, from a position of strength.

  She represented the Inuran Consortium, the sector’s leading arms supplier, and one of its largest enigmas. They worked tirelessly and ruthlessly to keep anyone from knowing their fleet strengths, or even the location of their shipyards, much less their many magitech R&D facilities.

  That was their way. Everything was cloaked in tradition and secrecy, an alluring combination to most outside cultures.

  A pair of guards, both in tasteful suits with no obvious weaponry, flanked the minister’s desk. Both eyed Jolene in open lust, one a man, the other a woman. That was unsurprising, and another advantage in the Inuran arsenal.

  Unlike humanity, all Inurans were beautiful. They stood closer to the divine than lesser races, and those lessers sensed their place. That made dealing with them easier.

  “Welcome, Matron.” Minister Ramachan rose from behind the desk, and offered a warm smile that highlighted her relative youth, forty-three, a tender enough age that even some humans had noted it during her campaign for the position. She had rosy skin of a darker hue that Jolene rather liked, as much red as brown. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”