Suddenly, Nightshade’s hull exploded into a brilliant fireball.

  A cheer swept the bridge, but it was short lived. “Where did the other cruiser go?” Hansen demanded, taking two steps forward and eyeing every screen. “Where is Shadow’s Whisper?”

  We all examined a dozen displays, but there was nothing to detect other than spirals of vapor and bits of metal debris.

  Shadow’s Whisper had vanished before our eyes.

  Chapter 28: The Ghost Ship

  “Captain,” the sensor op said, “Shadow’s Whisper must have gone into some kind of stealth mode. They’ve disappeared from our sensors.”

  “Maybe she saw what happened to Nightshade, and she ran for it,” Commander Kaine suggested. “After all, these guys aren’t called pirates for nothing.”

  “No,” Captain Hansen said, as she prowled the deck. “She’s still out there… somewhere. I can feel it.”

  “What are your orders, ma’am?”

  Captain Hansen didn’t reply immediately. All eyes were on her, and they were staring. In my view, she’d gained a lot of credibility by defeating Nightshade—all without firing a shot.

  “Do nothing but ping local space. Send out probes, drones, fly them in random patterns. Maybe we can ram one into her hull, if she’s out there somewhere, invisible.”

  A few tense hours passed, occasionally punctuated by blaring alarms. In the meantime, the crew got control over the fires below and sealed off damaged areas.

  The bridge fell silent as the aftermath of the space battle settled. The crew exchanged uneasy glances and whispered among themselves. We all knew that devil Redgrave was out there somewhere. It was unnerving.

  “They could also still be sneaking up close,” Freya said, “waiting for an opportunity to strike when we least expect it.”

  Dr. Sharaf, who had been summoned to the bridge to provide her scientific expertise, offered her input. “Stealth technology isn’t perfect. It’s possible that they’ve retreated to assess their own damage and plan their next move.”

  Captain Hansen looked around the room, her eyes meeting each crew member’s gaze. “Regardless of what Redgrave is planning, we need to repair this ship. I’m going to move closer to the space station.”

  There were bad words muttered all over the bridge. No one had the balls to outright say she was crazy. Maybe that was because I’d given them all a display of force when I’d handled Lt. Gavinson’s big mouth. I couldn’t help but feel a bit of pride when I noticed he was still avoiding my eye and massaging his neck now and then.

  Once the big ship began easing closer to the space station, preparing to dock, Captain Hansen moved down to Red Company headquarters. As she hadn’t told me to stand down, I followed her like a good little doggie.

  She surprised the marines in our ready-room hangout, and they all immediately jumped to attention. A few of them threw scowls my way, perhaps thinking I should have warned them she was coming. I shrugged, not knowing what I was supposed to do about it.

  “Listen up, everyone,” she began, “we need to start repairing the damage to Borag as soon as possible. I’m sending our repair bots and maintenance crews to board the space station and begin work immediately. Red Company is being assigned to protect them.”

  “The full detachment, ma’am?” Lt. Quinn asked.

  “Yes. Every man you have.” She paused, looking over her shoulder at me. She hesitated for a moment, then came to quiet decision. “Even Corporal Starn, here.”

  Lt. Quinn nodded and turned to order his men to move out. He began assigning details and laying out tactical posts all around the docking area. “We can set up choke-points and firing zones.”

  Sergeant Cox lifted a hand. “For what, exactly, sir?”

  “We don’t know. There were cyborgs attacking us last time we entered this station. If we hug the outer region and stay close to the docks, maybe they’ll leave us alone—but we can’t be sure of that.”

  Sergeant Cox nodded. “Heavy kits, then. We’ll need punch to take down those cyborgs quickly.”

  The group began to organize and assemble. Captain Hansen watched, but she didn’t interfere. When it came to ship-board small arms, Red Company leaders knew their business better than she did.

  Lt Quinn turned to her a few minutes later. “Is there anything else, Captain?”

  She glanced at me again. Was she about to order me to escort her back to the upper decks? I hoped not, as it wouldn’t do her reputation or mine any good.

  “No,” she said. “Carry on.”

  Then, she left on her own. I gazed after her, slightly troubled.

  “Don’t worry, Starn,” Quinn said with a smirk. “You’re still her favorite, I’m sure.”

  Trying not to scowl, I turned back to him. “What’s my role to be, Lieutenant?”

  Instead of answering me, he banged his gloves together to gain the attention of everyone in the room. “All right, marines, you heard the captain. We’ll be providing security for our maintenance teams while they repair Borag. We’ll split into two squads, Sergeant Cox will hold the main passage that leads into the interior of the station. I’ll handle the deeper defense, watching every vent and maintenance shaft with my team.”

  He became more detailed after that, assigning us to various posts. We had a limited map of the station after our last visit—at least it was enough to plan by.

  With a new sense of purpose, Red Company tramped out of the ready room and headed for the holds. We brushed past a hundred or more workers preparing to transfer onto the station and work on repairs. Another two hundred were already deployed on the damaged decks, and nearly that many were out on a spacewalk over the ruptured armor plates.

  I floated in nothingness, tethered to the airlock by my safety line. Borag was behind me, and the space station was dead ahead. It loomed in front of me, a massive alien structure that dwarfed even Borag. The contrast between the two structures was immediately noticeable. One was alien, while the other was distinctly human in design.

  The sparks from a hundred welding torches danced like fireflies, illuminating Borag’s bulbous hull. Workers and drones toiled around the clock to mend her armor plates. Spacesuits with tiny steering jets glinted now and then as men moved from one task to the next.

  We soon managed to rig up a semi-permanent docking tube between the station and our ship. It was floppy and wouldn’t hold together forever—but we dared to hope it would last long enough.

  Once I’d taken up my post inside the station, I met up with Charlie, my old friend from the lower worker group on Borag. He was working along my route as I patrolled the echoing corridors. He caught up to me with a grin on his face.

  “Hey, Starn! Long time no see, huh?” Charlie said, clapping me on the shoulder.

  “Yeah, it’s been a while,” I replied, smiling back. “How have things been down on the lower decks?”

  Charlie’s grin widened. “Well, let me tell you, your name’s been making the rounds. Some of the stories I’ve heard about you and the captain, and the upper officers... You’re like some kind of hero to the wretches down there!”

  I raised an eyebrow, curious about what he’d heard. “Oh? Like what?”

  He snorted. “Well, there’s the story where you saved the captain’s ass from a killer.”

  “How does that one go?”

  “First, you throttled the life out of the assassin, then you spaced her with one freaky hand! At least… that’s what I heard.”

  My eyes darkened at the memory. “Oh… well… that’s not exactly—”

  “Let’s not forget the part where you stood up to that son-of-a-bitch Lt. Gavinson. You showed him who’s boss, right? It must have taken stones the size of the Martian moons to pull that on an officer!”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s not exactly how things happened. I guess these stories have a life of their own.”

  Charlie shook his head. “Doesn’t matter if they’re true or not, Starn. What matters is that you’re scaring the shit out of some officers—and giving some lower deck types hope. They see you as taking down complainers and backing the captain when she’s down. That’s what they want. They all want to believe in our captain.”

  I thought about telling him the truth for a moment, but then decided not to wreck everyone’s fun. “Okay, sure,” I said. “If it helps the morale, I’m okay with being a hero—even if I’m not worthy of the title.”

  Charlie clapped me on the back again. “That’s the spirit! Just keep doing what you’re doing, and you’ll always have a fan club in the lower decks.”

  Chapter 29: Rage and Mutations

  As I stood guard near the repair workers, Ledbetter sidled up next to me with a funny look on his face.

  “Hey Starn…” he whispered. “Dude! I hear something, man. Something’s not right.”

  I listened carefully, but I couldn’t hear anything out of the ordinary. We had this section of the space station pressurized now, so we could hear normal sounds. The noise of welding torches and workers’ chatter filled the air.

  “What is it, Ledbetter? Are you hearing people fart in the next module again?”

  “Nah! It’s like... a faint scuttling sound. It’s getting closer,” he said, gripping his carbine tightly. I knew his mutation had enhanced his hearing, so I trusted his instincts.

  I signaled for the other marines to take up defensive positions around the main entrances. “Stay sharp, everyone. We might have company.”

  Moments later, the praying mantis-like cyborgs attacked, their metallic limbs clicking and clattering against the station’s deck. We opened fire, driving them back with our laser carbines. I felt a surge of strength in my mutated left arm, and I used it to grab one of the cyborgs—hurling it back into the pack. Two metallic bodies slammed together with a satisfying crunch.

  Dozens more rushed us after that. We had the guns, we had strategic positions, and we had set up booby-traps. Electronics, spiny shells and gore went flying. Fortunately, there weren’t a thousand of them. There weren’t even a hundred, and by the time we’d destroyed perhaps twenty, we’d lost only two men—both lowly rock-rat types like Charlie.

  We managed to drive the cyborgs off, but the survivors looked shaken, and I couldn’t help but feel guilty. I needed to be more alert, more prepared. We couldn’t afford any more losses.

  As we regrouped after the attack, I heard Lt. Quinn speaking into his radio, reporting the situation to Captain Hansen. I listened in on the conversation.

  “Lt. Quinn reporting, Captain,” he said. “We were ambushed by cyborgs. We managed to repel them, but we lost a few workers in the process.”

  Captain Hansen’s voice crackled through the radio. “This is your failure, Lieutenant. Your mission was to protect my people. You need to eradicate these monsters. I won’t tolerate any more losses.”

  Lt. Quinn bristled visibly. I thought we’d done a pretty good job, but I recalled that Captain Hansen hadn’t fought with these cyborgs before in person. She had a different perspective.

  “Ma’am,” Quinn said, controlling his temper with an effort. “We’re not fighting a pack of rabbits out here. Would you rather I lost Red Company men?”

  “Of course not. I want this to end. We must repair Borag and get out of here.”

  “I’ll send you the after-action vids of the battle,” Quinn said, and I think he would have said more, but the connection had closed. He frowned at the deck for a minute, then started shouting angry orders.

  “I get it,” Ledbetter said next to me. “It’s all our fault now. Shit only flows downhill, Starn. Remember that, and you can be a plumber someday.”

  I thanked him for that tidbit of wisdom and began to hustle, setting up fresh booby-traps and rechecking all our sensors. Who knew? Maybe that first attack was just to test our resolve.

  As we kept watch, Ana and Dr. Sharaf approached the area where we’d fought the cyborgs. They began to collect samples from a destroyed cyborg—I thought it was the one I had smashed with my mutated left arm.

  As they worked, I couldn’t help but approach them. My thoughts had already drifted to my own mutating condition.

  “Dr. Sharaf,” I said quietly, “I’m concerned about my mutations. About what I did to the cyborg... It was my left arm that did that—the mutated one. I’m worried it might get out of control.”

  Dr. Sharaf looked up from her work, her eyes flashing over me with vague interest. “Corporal Starn, your mutation is indeed unpredictable, but we’re doing our best to manage everyone’s problems. If you’ll stop annoying me and my team, we’ll get more done in that regard.”

  “Devin,” Ana said softly, “I know it’s freaky, but you saved us from that cyborg. Your strength could be an asset. Just don’t let it control you.”

  I sighed, unable to shake my worries. “Okay, Ana. I’ll try to keep it in check.”

  Dr. Sharaf ignored us. She’d returned her attention to the cyborg samples. “We’ll learn as much as we can from these samples, Corporal. Knowledge is our best weapon against the unknown. In the meantime, I must regret to inform you that your next injection will be further delayed.”

  My eyes widened, and before I knew it, my left hand had snaked out and convulsively squeezed the old lady’s shoulder.

  Sharaf scowled in pain. “This sort of brutish intimidation isn’t helpful, Corporal!”

  “Devin!” Ana squawked in alarm.

  “I’m… I’m sorry…” I said, letting go of the old bag and pulling back my swollen limb. “Sometimes… sometimes it seems to have a mind of its own. Why is my next injection delayed?”

  Sharaf narrowed her eyes and rubbed at her shoulder. “So, you’ve resorted to bullying and intimidation? This is your new game? It won’t work, I assure you.”

  “No, I…”

  “You’re not in command of this unit,” she said. “Others with higher rank have prioritized the release of our final doses.” With that, she turned away, and Ana shot me a reproachful look. I stared after them, trying to think.

  Who had prioritized this change…?

  Turning slowly, I spotted Lt. Quinn. He had to have a mutation somewhere on his body. Had he decided he should have a steady supply, enough to last him all the way home to Mars? Had he made this decision unilaterally? The concept filled me with outrage.

  There it was again, my new inability to deal with negative emotions. I tried to get ahold of myself.

  Still, the situation seemed monstrously unfair. Quinn was an officer, sure, but why should his body stay hale and whole while mine warped into something grotesque? It wasn’t right—and I wasn’t going to stand for it.

  Just as I bared my teeth and shook slightly with anger, Lt. Quinn turned in my direction. Perhaps he’d sensed my unblinking stare.

  “Corporal Starn?” he said. “Are you feeling all right, man?”

  “No sir,” I admitted.

  He walked closer and looked me over. He shook his head in concern. Then his eyes fell to my swollen left arm. They widened. “We’re going to have to get that taken care of. Come on, we’ll talk to Sharaf.”

  He walked with me then, and I shuffled after him. I felt like a monster in the making. Dark thoughts coursed through my mind. It was always easier to strike an enemy down from behind. Always…

  “Doc?” Quinn said.

  “More interruptions?” Sharaf barked, turning around. “Oh…” she said when she saw who it was. She only respected officers like Quinn—and that respect was thin. “What is it?”

  “I know our supplies are low, but Starn here needs an injection—immediately.”

  Sharaf scowled and complained, but she gave me a shot of her vital Lot Six supply. I thought perhaps it was a slightly reduced dosage—but it would have to do.

  Immediately after I’d received the shot, I felt better. That was probably a psychological thing, but there it was.

  “These disgusting tactics of yours must stop, Starn,” Sharaf hissed into my ear. Her breath was full of old coffee and stale canned air. It seemed like I could smell things I normally couldn’t.

  Was that my next mutation? An enhanced sense, like Ledbetter?

  If so, I was bitterly disappointed. If there was one sense no spacer wanted improved, it had to be the sense of smell.

  When she was done with her witch-doctoring, she left me in peace. She went back to puttering about with the cyborg carcasses.

  I followed her and Ana, but she growled at me. I figured she was still upset about when I’d grabbed her shoulder.

  “I’m supposed to stand watch here,” I explained, and it was true enough to convince the women.

  I stood guard, keeping a watchful eye on the area as Ana and Dr. Sharaf continued examining the cyborg remains. As Ana gathered samples, she caught my eye and moved closer, her voice barely a whisper.

  “Devin, I need to tell you something—about the work we’re doing, and your condition.”

  “I’m all ears,” I said, which made Ledbetter smirk at me. He was listening in from thirty feet away.

  “The secret ingredient in the mixture independents use to stop mutations is right here,” Ana said. “It’s actually the processed blood of these cyborgs.”

  My eyes squinted with disgust. “Are you serious? That’s... that’s sick.”

  Ana nodded. “I know, but it works. I’ve seen it work on others, and I think it could help you, too. If we can create a distillate from the dead cyborgs, it could help slow down your mutations.”

  I glanced over at Dr. Sharaf, who seemed preoccupied with her work. “Does she know?”

  “I told her,” she answered, “but I don’t think she believes me yet. She’s a difficult woman to work with.”

  “No shit…” I couldn’t argue with her on that point.

  Ana leaned close. She had a hot scent to her—not a stink, just a warm, human smell. I kind of liked it.

  I shook my head. Damn, there it was again. I was catching new scents I’d never noticed before.

  “I trust you, Devin,” she said. “Don’t let anyone or anything stop us. We must collect these samples while they’re fresh.”