I start walking over to him, keeping it casual. I have no idea what the banshees want or why they haven’t killed me already. I also have no idea how we’re going to communicate. They don’t speak English, and I can scream, but probably not any way that would be intelligible to them.

  “My name is Commander Grayson Stone,” I say as I approach. “Alliance of Planets Navy.”

  The banshee doesn’t respond. He stands there, facing me. Without moving. Without vocalizing. I don’t know what he wants. Not to fight, or he would have done that already.

  I’m not sure what to do. I can keep talking, but he doesn’t understand me, and I can’t understand him. Maybe this is how dialog starts when we’re so far away from one another. Nonviolent silence. I could live with that if the rest of his kind weren’t out there blasting away.

  I step a little closer to him. My heart is pounding now, more with excitement than with fear. Maybe everything doesn’t have to be war.

  He takes a step toward me. The tension is easing slightly. One step at a time.

  Then one of the banshee soldiers cries out in a loud tone, and his head whips toward the hatch on the left. It slides open a moment later, armored guards rushing into the hangar.

  Rozik is with them.

  The lead banshee looks back at me and starts raising his weapon. I don’t waste any time, motioning to Yari as I reach for my guns, suddenly thrust into the middle of a duel with the alien.

  Chaos reigns around me. The soldiers start shooting at the banshees. The banshees fight back. Plasma bolts, machine gun fire and energy balls criss-cross the hangar in an explosion of violence. I can see it in my peripheral vision at the same time I’m pulling my pistols. The banshee in front of me is slow to get himself ready, and by the time his weapon comes level I’m squeezing off rounds from both guns, the output hitting him in the head and chest. He collapses, and I stare at the corpse for a few seconds once it falls. Where’s the blood?

  I sense Yari behind me, running across to the Arrowhead. Then I duck as an energy ball sizzles at me, barely getting out of the way before it hits the Yellowjacket and singes its hull. I find the shooter near one of the transports and I swing my gun around to return fire, only to see it fall back behind cover as bullets ping off the craft. Rozik appears in front of the Yellowjacket, rifle spitting fire at the banshees, a line of guards beside him.

  The line thins in a hurry, the banshees’ superior defensive position and the guards’ relative inexperience leaving them vulnerable. Rozik doesn’t seem to care. He jumps onto the bow of the Yellowjacket and runs up toward the back, getting a better angle on the aliens. Dropping to his stomach, his plasma bolts spew over my head, cutting down the banshee attempting to stay hidden.

  “Forward!” he bellows. I glance to the door, where more guards are pouring into the hangar. He’s managed to rally what seems like the entire defensive force of the station to this place, against this group.

  “Commander, let’s go!” Yari shouts behind me. I stay crouched, walking sideways with my pistols raised and ready, heading for the Arrowhead’s opening ramp. A banshee pops out of hiding nearby, and I pivot and shoot, driving him back to cover.

  I make it to the ramp, pausing to look back at Rozik. His teeth are bared in a ferocious grin as he fires on another target. He seems to sense me watching him because his eyes flick down and meet mine. He nods sharply, and then stands and runs across the top of the Yellowjacket, using his exo to vault from it to the ground five meters away, adjacent to the rear of a transport. He rolls, taking the force out of his impact with the deck and gaining his feet before blasting the three banshees taking cover there.

  I turn and run into the Arrowhead, closing the ramp behind me. Yari is already in the jump seat, the terminal on her lap.

  “Do you know how to use that?” I ask.

  “A computer? Sure.”

  “That specific computer?”

  “No.”

  “Then don’t touch anything.”

  She giggles as I slide into the pilot’s seat and start tapping controls to activate the ship. It starts beeping at me when I override the startup sequence, pushing into a cold launch. It could blow the reactor, but it’s less risky than sitting there waiting for the banshees to blow us up.

  The Arrowhead rumbles as I release the mag-lock and spin it around without rising from the deck. Tactical warns me of damage to the hull from banshee energy balls, but its limited when Rozik and the guards finish overwhelming the aliens, nearly clearing the room.

  But only for a moment. I watch as three more appear out of thin air in front of the Arrowhead. They don’t last long. I target them with the plasma cannons and fire, cutting them down right before I hit the main thrusters, punching toward the shields. They barely disengage in time to let us through.

  We’re spaceborne once more, the truth of the situation clearer than ever. I need to destroy the banshee ships before they can teleport enough soldiers to finish taking the station.

  Chapter 39

  I push the throttle, sending the Arrowhead rocketing down and away from the inner core, toward the hangar exit at the bottom of the station. There’s a large debris field floating across it, a patch of death and destruction that contains all kinds of material, including bodies. I cringe slightly at the sight of so many, the vision recalling too many bad memories in a flash.

  I shove them away, changing my vector and banking away from the exit. I cut a path through the web of connectors that forms the outer shell of Naraka. More than just a few have been destroyed in the fighting, the passages cut off at the midway point, leaving slagged holes and vented atmosphere behind.

  I shoot out past them, right into the middle of the scrum. There are only a handful of mercenary ships—a large hauler that’s got more guns than it has any right to and six smaller cruisers—still in the fight. Their size is giving them a chance to hold their own against the banshee fighters, but time is running out.

  “Naraka Control, this is Stone. Do you copy? Naraka Control, come in.”

  I want to get access to the ships, to tell them to get behind the corvette and help lay cover fire for my approach both into the ship and across the banshee ships on the periphery. We’re stronger together, but that only means anything if I can get them organized.

  “Naraka Control, this is Stone. Come in.” Still no answer. “Nara—”

  “Alliance,” Rozik says unexpectedly. “I thought you abandoned me.” It’s barely been two minutes, and he’s already gotten from the hangar back to the control room. I’m impressed.

  “Where’s Amelia?” I ask.

  “Worried about your girlfriend? She’s here. Got a bump on her head, just like the last girl who tried to be nice to you.”

  His levity is annoying. I ignore it. “I need you to contact the rest of the ships out here.”

  “Why don’t you hail them?”

  “This ship only interfaces with the station and the corvette. It’s a security feature or something. I need you to pass orders along to them.”

  “What are the orders?”

  I pause while I jerk the Arrowhead sideways, slipping away from an incoming banshee fighter and heading toward the overpowered hauler, careful to stay clear of its lanes of fire while I use it as a shield.

  “Do you have Geramin’s corvette on sensors?”

  “Confirmed.”

  “Tell them to form up on it. Diamond pattern. No closer than one hundred kilometers.”

  “I see it’s an old Commune Striker. You’re planning to use the lances?”

  “If I can get close enough.”

  “What if you can’t?”

  “Then we’re all going to die.”

  “And you brought Yari along?”

  “Worried about your girlfriend? This is all or nothing, Rozzie. Send the message.”

  He grunts as he cuts off comms. I’m almost past the station, free and clear to Geramin’s corvette. Almost. A banshee fighter slots in behind me, trying to take me down before I make it there.

  I take standard evasive maneuvers, slipping the craft around and keeping the alien pilot working. The corvette is getting bigger ahead of me, the station shrinking behind. I notice the ships composing the defense haven’t moved, and it’s taking Rozik an awful long time to get back on the comm. What the hell is going on?

  The ship’s computer complains as the banshee fighter starts shooting, sending blasts of energy zipping past us, the shots tightly grouped and getting way too close. I cut the throttle and change direction, rotating in a tight S that’s sure to leave Yari dizzy. The banshee stops firing, unable to keep up with the maneuver, and I begin to break away once more.

  “Rozik,” I say, opening the comm again. “What’s happening?”

  “Alliance,” he replies. He sounds like he’s out of breath. “Sorry for the delay. One of the groups of golems made it back to the bridge. I had to take care of them.”

  “Golems?”

  “That’s what I’m calling them. Avatars? Whatever. They’re not real live banshees.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “They’re fakes. Not robots. Something else. Have you noticed they don’t bleed?” I had noticed that. It seems impossible, but that would explain why these banshees are smaller than the originals. “They also never send more than ninety-six at a time,” he continues. “I bet you haven’t noticed that.”

  “No, I hadn’t. How did you?”

  “The security cameras are back online, and the AI is marking them as distinct. What I don’t know is how they’re figuring out where to land them on the transfer.”

  I can’t answer that question, and to be honest I don’t care what the answer is. My mind is already reeling from the idea that the banshees on the station are fakes.

  I glance at the tactical projection. There are eight of the larger banshee ships out there. Ninety-six divided by eight would be twelve golems per ship. That seems like an awfully low number considering the size of the craft. But what if the ships are manufacturing these things real-time, and then sending them off to replace the ones we kill?

  What if those ships can build a nearly endless supply of them?

  But if that’s the case, why didn’t they use them on Warrick?

  I shake my head, throwing that entire line of thought away. It doesn’t matter or change anything. I need to get to the banshee transporters, and I need to get to them now.

  “Did you contact the other ships?” I ask.

  “Confirmed.”

  His lack of elaboration is almost as annoying as his smirk. “And?”

  “They’re sticking with us, though I had to double their take to get them to agree to follow your lead.”

  My eyes are still on the tactical. The mercenary ships haven’t moved yet. “They aren’t following my lead.”

  The computer alerts me to the banshee fighter again as it recloses on our six and resumes firing. I go back to flying evasives, doing my best to avoid its attack. The computer registers a couple of hits near the thrusters, the enemy’s aim improving. This pilot is better than the others I’ve encountered and much harder to shake.

  But it seems I don’t need to shake him.

  One moment he’s there behind me. The next, he’s gone. He’s so intent on killing me he never notices the torpedo fired by one of the smugglers, and it shoots right up his backside and detonates, leaving me running from a growing plume of debris.

  “Better?” Rozik asks.

  The ships are in motion now, updating their positioning near the station to organize into the diamond formation. They aren’t coming back toward the corvette. Not yet. I don’t know that they ever will. It appears they’re willing to work with me, but not for me.

  I’ll take what I can get.

  “I’m almost to the corvette,” I say. “Standby.” I push the Arrowhead to max thrust, streaking toward the ship. “Yari, can you find anything on that terminal that looks like access to another interface?”

  “Standby,” she says, the same way I just did. “Yes, Commander. I found it.”

  “Can you see if you can find some way to open the hangar doors so we can get in?”

  “Roger.”

  She gets to work while we cover the distance. A half-minute later we’re nearly on top of the corvette. I can see now that the ship has had a lot of work done, with upgrades to both her shield generators and weapons systems. The vessel is more than the lances rising from her side. She’s a full-blown warship, designed to repel anyone trying to get close to Geramin Rocklin while he’s making his escape from danger. I’m willing to bet the Mandelbrot computer inside her is top of the line too, able to suss out more efficient paths than standard systems.

  I hope I get a chance to use it.

  I spot the hangar doors near the bow, just behind the port wing just above the electro-lance. I turn my head to look at Yari out of the corner of my eye. “The doors are still closed.”

  “I’m looking,” Yari says. “I think…wait. We have to turn the main power on first. It’s on auxiliary.” She taps on the control board. “Here.”

  There’s no obvious change in the corvette as its energy profile increases.

  There is an obvious change from the remaining banshee fighters back near the station. They couldn’t see the ship for what it was while it was powered down. Now they can, and it seems they’ve realized how dangerous it might be.

  They begin breaking off from the other ships, getting into formation to assault the corvette, a line of dark fighters stretching out like a spear pointed at us.

  And with their technology they can get here in seconds.

  Chapter 40

  “Yari, we need the hangar doors open,” I say, cutting velocity to get in tight on the ship. “They’ll be here any second.”

  “I know, I know,” she replies. “I’m in the right area; I just need to find it. There. Got it!” She looks up with a big smile on her face while she taps the control to open the doors.

  They begin splitting apart immediately, a sharp light bursting out through them. I check the tactical projection again. The banshee ships are coming fast, already only a few seconds away. The mercenaries are behind them, firing at their backs and breaking formation to give chase.

  “Rozik, tell the ships to stay in position. I’ll be coming to them.”

  “Roger,” Rozik replies.

  I have no idea if the captains will comply or not. I’m leaning toward not.

  I hit the throttle as the first of the banshee fighters gets to the corvette. It slips in close against the hull, trying to use the same slashing tactic that was so effective against many of the other ships.

  Not this one.

  The shields flare when it gets too close, energy crackling from the extenders rising across the hull. The defensive energy shears the wing from the fighter and it tumbles away into space, completely beyond control. It’s an impressive display and proves Rocklin invested a lot of chrome to update his escape craft.

  The Arrowhead’s computer cries out a warning as a group of fighters pours over the top of the lance, breaking in our direction. We’re rocketing toward the hangar doors, racing to get inside before the banshee craft can get a firing angle.

  We’re too late. They start firing right before we reach the ship, energy balls smashing into the rear of the Arrowhead and blowing right through the ion thrusters. The lights flash and the computer emits a loud warning, smoke suddenly pouring in.

  I react on instinct, cutting the power to the reactor and disengaging the circuits in a weak effort to limit the damage. The Arrowhead is falling apart behind us, leaving only the hardened cockpit with Yari and me in it.

  “Hold on!” I shout. We’re coming in too hard and too fast, and we only have so much reserve power for the retros.

  The shields drop. The Arrowhead flashes past them. The hangar behind is small. Too small to compensate for our velocity. I fire the retros at max, yanked hard in my harness by the sudden deceleration. I didn’t account for the loss of the reactor and thruster’s mass. We slow faster than I was expecting. What’s left of the craft is caught by the artificial gravity and slammed to the deck. We slide across toward the rear bulkhead, the skid throwing up sparks and making an awful grinding noise. The bulkhead approaches in a hurry, and for a moment I’m sure we’re going to hit. But the retro thrusters keep firing, pushing back against our forward momentum and finally bringing us to a stop.

  I exhale sharply, wasting no time unbuckling from the pilot’s seat and slipping out. Yari is dizzy in the jump seat, I pause to unbuckle her and pick her up, throwing her over my shoulder. She’s thin and light as a stick, no trouble to carry while I release the back hatch and duck to get out ahead of it, jumping to the deck. I can’t see much past the shields, but the flashes against them tell me everything I need to know.

  The banshees haven’t given up.

  I sprint from what’s left of the Arrowhead, across the hangar to the hatch on my right. I practically throw myself through it, landing on my shoulder to keep Yari from taking the hit. I kick the door controls with my foot, and it slides closed only a moment before the banshee fighter take out the shields and fire into the compartment, hitting the Arrowhead and the back walls.

  “Commander, I can walk,” Yari says as I start to pull us back up.

  I let her down, frantically looking at every passage along the intersection. “I don’t know where the damn bridge is,” I say.

  “I do,” she replies. “I saw it on the interface. Follow me.”

  She takes the left passage, sprinting down and turning right, taking it two more intersections and turning right again. Another short passage and we turn left, reaching a set of stairs. “Down,” she announces.

  We push into the spiral stairwell. “Yari, wait. Hold onto me.” She stops, and I pick her up and spin her around so she’s clutching my chest like a monkey. I plant my hands on the railings and shove forward, sliding down the twisting staircase faster than we could run.

  “Here!” she cries when we reach the right level. She lets go and we go through the door. The bridge is straight ahead, and the door slides open as we approach.