Nate watched them go, working on a plan.

  Chapter Two

  Nate’s comm chimed. “Yo.”

  “Nate, it’s Valerie.”

  “I know who it is. Your face comes up on the display.” Nate tapped the comm on his sleeve, the holo lit in blue. “What’s up?”

  “I called to say … don’t come home.”

  “You what now?” Nate’s gut felt hollow. He wanted Val to say she was fine, but the universe didn’t work that way.

  “I feel sick, Nate. I feel really sick. My head hurts, and not like I’ve got a headache. Like I need to eat and drink, but I’ve tried, and nothing fills me.” Val’s voice wound down like a reactor on shutdown.

  Nate stared as his comm before looking at Dom. Dom shook his head. The gesture meant, No, we can’t help her. “Val?”

  “Nate. I just wanted to tell you—”

  “Val, wait there. Don’t let anyone in. I’ve got a plan.” Nate ignored Dom’s questioning glance. “This time, it’s a good plan.”

  The comm hissed for a few moments. “Okay.” Val dropped the connection.

  “That doesn’t sound good,” said Dom.

  “It sounds worse because she didn’t call my plan lousy, and let me call her Val.” Nate glanced at Pearl’s base. “Wait here.”

  “Is this part of the plan?”

  Ignoring him, Nate left Dom by the loader. He kept to the shadows as he sidled away. Nate didn’t feel sick, and Dom didn’t look sick, but neither of them got the full blast from the open coffin. Pearl did, and the big pirate looked fine. Old Parker hadn’t been anywhere near but was already cooling in the Ganymede Guard’s morgue. This plague took who it wanted, when it wanted.

  It chose Nate’s best friend, and that wouldn’t do.

  He hustled into an alley, rooting through a big bin outside a machinist’s shop. The place was known for doing lousy work for low coin. Nate didn’t need anything machined; he needed a disguise. In the bin he found a plastic box among the trash, into which he dropped a collection of greasy components. Nate roughed up his hair with dirty oil from the trash, wiped more on his now-ruined-but-was-once-nice shirt, and headed away from the machine shop with a saunter.

  He nodded to Dom as he approached Pearl’s. The Emperor in Waiting detached from the loader’s shadows, falling in beside Nate. As they approached Pearl’s base, one of the Empire guards moved to stop them. “Halt.”

  Nate glanced at the guard. He had a generic look, like the recruiting policy went for square jaws and vacuous eyes. Might be a few years older than Nate, but you’d only be sure in the right kind of light. “‘Halt?’ Do people really say that?”

  “Umm,” offered the guard.

  “Look,” Nate hefted the grimy box, “I’ve got a load of induction coils here. Do you know what they’re for?”

  The guard looked at the box. “No.”

  “Inside there,” Nate pointed to Pearl’s base with his chin, “is a trans-digital micron assembly. If I don’t get these coils into that assembly, this whole dome blows.”

  “The whole dome?” The guard’s eyes goggled.

  “The whole dome, soldier!” Nate shook the box again for emphasis. “Do I look like the kind of man who has time to waste while lives are at stake?”

  “Uh.” The guard looked around for support, finding none. “I mean, this place is on lockdown.”

  “Lockdown.” Nate spat the word. “I don’t care if you keep me in there for life. Just let me do my job.”

  “His job, man,” said Dom. Nate spared a glance, noting his friend had smeared grime on his face. Wouldn’t do for the Emperor in Waiting to be recognized. “Do you want to be the soldier who killed a colony?”

  “Uh, no, sir,” admitted the guard. “Head on in.”

  Nate nodded his thanks, stepping past the guard. Dom leaned close, whispering, “Trans-digital micron assembly? Induction coils?”

  “He said he didn’t know what induction coils were for. Neither do I. The rest just kind of flowed.” Inside the cool dark of Pearl’s base, Nate shucked the box of parts to the floor.

  Pearl waited inside, wearing a glower like someone had welded it to his face. “Chevell, what are you doing here?”

  “Saving everyone,” said Nate. “I’m going to need some help, though.”

  “What kind of help?” Pearl’s glower didn’t lift. If anything, it deepened with suspicion.

  “In a minute.” Nate held up his hand. “Which ship are they on?”

  “The Falling Star. It’s got clean lines and a strong hull. Can’t miss it.” Pearl looked like he’d sucked on a lemon. “What could a thief and a liar like you need from me, Nate?”

  “You’re going to love this.” Nate grinned. “I need you to knock someone out.”

  The plan was this: Pearl was to knock out the guards outside. This served two purposes. First, it would allow Nate and Dom to leave. Second, it would afford them shiny Empire military uniforms, essential for the next phase.

  Knocking out the guards would come with repercussions. If they didn’t check in, the wrong kinds of people would notice. So, knocking them out needed to be done carefully. Once out, Nate and Dom would get Valerie, her protests notwithstanding. She was essential to the plan; Val had skills they needed.

  After Nate finished explaining this to Dom and Pearl, Pearl laughed. “You’re insane.”

  “I’m motivated,” insisted Nate. “Are we good?”

  “We’re good,” rumbled Pearl.

  They lurked inside Pearl’s base. When one of the soldiers used his comm to radio the Falling Star, Nate nodded his okay. Like a swarm of rats, Pearl’s troops surged from the base. They slammed into the guards with a vigor. They carried pry bars, pieces of conduit, and chunks of ceramicrete. Plasma weapons were out of the question. They needed to knock out the soldiers without leaving holes in their uniforms.

  It went perfectly. Nate pointed Dom’s attention to the now prone military men. “That’s the benefit of working with thieves, pirates, and cutthroats. They know the business end of a blackjack.”

  Dom nodded, eyes wide. “If we ever want to wage war on Ganymede, we’ll need very angry Marines.”

  They went to work stripping the soldiers. They made do with the clothes they found. Nate’s stolen pants were a little loose, his shirt a whisker tight. It didn’t matter. They made for the trash loader, programming its route to the Triage Tearoom. Nate told the machine to make haste for a sewage spill, the big engine inside it whining with a purpose. It trundled enthusiastically through the streets of Cadence, people stepping aside at not just the size of the loader but the promised smell.

  When they arrived at the Tearoom, Nate bounded inside and up the steps in a clatter of borrowed armor. He shouldered into the room he shared with Val. She looked terrible. Val’s eyes were red, her skin waxy. Nate skidded to a halt. “It’s time to go.”

  “Nate! You can’t be here.”

  “That’s right, but since I already am, it’s definitely time to go.”

  “I don’t need rescuing.” Val said this in a voice that said she could really use a rescue.

  “Of course not. You’re helping.”

  “Wait, what?” Despite her sickly look, her eyes widened in surprise and confusion.

  Nate jogged to her, grabbing the handles of her chair. “It’s a long story, but basically I need a plague victim as a dummy to get onboard a starship full of Empire military. Once on board the starship, my plague victim needs to hack the ship’s systems, so I know where the antidote is. Then, we can release the antidote and save Cadence.”

  “Oh,” sniffed Val. “Why didn’t you say so?”

  Chapter Three

  Closer to the Falling Star, Nate squared his shoulders. Cadence Starport was a bustling hive of devilry, but they were his kind of devils. He, Dom, and Val made it to the Star without incident.

  Pearl wasn’t wrong in his description. The Falling Star was black, sleek lines making Nate think of a stiletto. He estimated her at six decks, five hundred meters long, and full of the promised wrath of the Empire if anything should happen to her. The ship’s landing bay was empty of souls apart from two soldiers standing guard at a big ramp leading into the belly of the ship.

  “You sure about this?” Dom looked at the ship, doubt in his voice.

  “Not even a little bit.” Nate pushed Val’s chair forward, his borrowed armor creaking as he walked. They approached the soldiers at the base of the ramp. Nate nodded to them. “Fellas.” Nate cringed. ‘Fellas’ might be a bit too familiar for the Empire Navy.

  Dom winced, stepping in. “We’re here with a prisoner transport.”

  The pair of guards gave them a once-over. Yep. Same generic look as all the rest. “We’ve got no record of a prisoner transfer.”

  Nate slipped back into the conversation. “Of course not. It wouldn’t be a secret if you’d heard. This here,” he slapped the back of Val’s chair, “is patient zero. The commander wants an advanced case to test the cure on.”

  “I thought patient zero was an old man at a slum bar in the market?” The soldier frowned.

  “Slum bar?” said Nate.

  “You’re mistaken.” Dom shook his head. “That disturbance was a false alarm. Drug use.”

  “Drugs?” The soldier’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

  “A lot of them,” agreed Nate. “Feel free to call someone. Get the clearance you need. But do it quick. I reckon she’s about to turn.” He was playing hunches right down the middle, but it worked.

  The guard tapped his comm. “Hmm.”

  “Hmm?” Nate leaned forward.

  “Hmm.” The guard nodded. “I can’t get a signal.”

  That’ll be Val’s comm jammer. Her chair bristled with tech under the skin. “What do you want to do? Wait out here while she turns, or let us inside?”

  The guard sighed, rubbing his trademark square jaw. “Send someone from Engineering. We need our comms fixed.”

  “You got it.” Nate sauntered past the guards, pushing Val’s chair up the ramp. Dom followed, eyes everywhere at once.

  Stage one was coming along just fine.

  The trip to the hold was easy. Far too easy. Nate paused, hands on Valerie’s chair, listening. “Do you hear that?”

  “Hear what?” Dom turned a slow circle. His blaster was out, held in a white-knuckled hand.

  “Yeah.” Valerie coughed. She looked worse by the minute. “All I hear is the ship’s air cyclers.”

  “Exactly.” Nate walked to a sealed door, palming the panel. It slid open, revealing a mess empty of soldiers. He held his hand out in a See? Exhibit A gesture. “This place is a graveyard.”

  “It’s empty. So what?” Dom’s eyes roamed the walls despite the casual nature of his words.

  “It’s an Empire Navy ship. It should be swarming with people. Angry men and women with the righteous fury of the just on their side. What we have here is a ghost ship. Where are all the Marines? The mean people with angry words and valuable-on-the-black-market weapons?” Nate crossed his arms. “Something’s wrong.”

  “Let’s get to the hold.” Valerie bowed her head, the words sapping her strength.

  “Let’s.” Nate pushed her chair forward, the wheels rolling with the barest whisper over the metal decking. Despite Nate’s comments about ghosts, nothing leapt out at them. No phantoms shrieked from the walls. The lighting was good. The ship hummed with the comforting sounds of machines striving to keep people alive. It’s just the lack of people. That’s what’s got you spooked. They made the aft hold without incident, Nate rolling Val’s chair to a halt before the vaulted metal airlock. “Behold.”

  Dom tried the panel. An alarm blared, the display reading ACCESS DENIED. Their stolen ident cards didn’t let them in. Nate thought that interesting. It meant something valuable was inside. Maybe something they could sell, if they made it out of this in one piece.

  Val pulled a loop of cable from her console, the motion feeble. Dom took the end, slotting it into the panel beside the airlock. It grumbled open after a few tired taps from Valerie on her keyboard. Inside stood an empty room.

  “Huh,” offered Nate. He sauntered inside, doing a slow turn. Metal struts went floor to ceiling. They’d usually hold racks of equipment, but there was nothing here.

  “This is … unexpected,” said Dom, his mouth open in confusion.

  Valerie wheeled her chair after them, tired eyes looking around. “There’s a fake wall at the back.”

  Nate followed her outstretched arm. “How can you tell?”

  “Scrape on the floor.” Val’s breath was getting shorter.

  Dom moved to the wall, running his hands over it. “I can’t even see a seam.”

  The wall gave a soft whine followed by a click. It split down the middle, light puddling from the crack to the floor. As the false door widened, Nate saw the smoothly-dressed fellow from Pearl’s place inside. He’d shucked his black dapper clothes for medical whites. A personal console was tucked under his arm. The guy blinked twice, then made a move for a panel inside the revealed room.

  Nate was faster. He slipped inside, blade leaping from its sheath. The point found its way under the man’s chin, resting there with all the relaxed intent of a wasp. “Hey now. Let’s not be doing anything hasty.”

  The room was a small elevator, the panel beside the door a control to a different level. The man swallowed, throat bunching around the tip of Nate’s blade. “We need to leave. There’s a … situation.”

  “That’s right. My friend’s very sick.” Nate held his blade steady as a rock. “You have a cure.”

  “There’s not enough cure. Not for what’s coming.” The man lifted his personal console very slowly. “Can I show you?”

  “Do we need to have a conversation about you not doing anything stupid?” Nate raised an eyebrow.

  “No.”

  “Excellent. Show away.” Nate kept his street steel at the guy’s throat but let his gaze drift to the offered console.

  The little 2D panel showed cam footage from Cadence. Hordes of people ran the streets, all crazed like Old Parker. Beating their fellows to the ground. Biting and tearing. Blood ran freely. Blaster fire from the uninfected equalized the combat some, but there were so many sick. The console had no sound, which made the scene somehow worse.

  The Empire man switched the display to a cam feed outside the Falling Star. Cadence Starport’s grounds were besieged by the sick, clots of raving people running amok. “You see, there’s nowhere near enough cure.”

  Nate glanced to Dom, his friend’s mouth hanging open, then to Val, wilting in her chair. He was about to ask something like how long when the Empire man tried for an escape. Batting Nate’s blade aside with the console, he reached inside his medical whites, hand coming out with a blaster.

  Nate’s street steel licked out, entering his opponent’s chest. The man dropped his blaster with a clatter, then slid from Nate’s blade to lie on the floor. Nate eyed his sword, the metal red-wet. You just killed another person. Twice in one day. He pushed the sick feeling in his gut lower. It wouldn’t help Val get better. “Okay, we’re modifying the plan.”

  “We are?” Dom stared at the fallen Empire man. “How so?”

  Nate stepped behind Val’s chair, wheeling her into the elevator. “This elevator car goes to a secret lab, make no mistake. In the lab’s a cure. A good one. Val’s going up. She’ll find the cure, fix herself up, then let us know about how to help Cadence Starport. Then, just maybe, the rest of Cadence Dome.”

  “Uh huh,” said Dom. “I hear a lot of ‘Val’ in there, but not a lot of ‘Dom.’ What are we doing?”

  “We’re buying her time. You and I are standing shoulder to shoulder outside this elevator until she gets back.”

  Dom peered back the way they came, an echo of noise reaching them. It might have been a scream. “Okay.”

  “Nate.” Val’s voice was so weak it sounded like the rustle of dry leaves.

  “Hush, now.” Nate leaned close, kissing her on the forehead. “You find your cure, then we’ll talk.” He stepped from the elevator, hand on the panel. The doors closed, Nate slipping out to stand beside Dom.

  “But—” Whatever Val was about to say got lost in the clank of the hidden door sealing her away.

  Nate squared his shoulders, then raised his sword in a flourish. “You ready?”

  “Not even a little bit.” Dom cleared his throat. “But I’d rather die with you than any of the sycophants at my father’s court.”

  “Two points of order. First, thanks.” Nate grinned. “But to the second. Keep that blaster ready. No one’s dying today.”

  Nate stood in front of Dom in the belly of the Falling Star. It wasn’t a noble desire to protect the Emperor in Waiting. It was plain common sense. Nate could take enemies on his blade, and if he got overrun, Dom waited with a blaster.

  Dom better be a good enough shot not to hit you in the back.

  The first of the sick came at a run. It was a woman Nate didn’t recognize. Her eyes were wild, mouth open in a scream that seemed without end. Nate met her with steel, his blade doing the talking. He made it fast, a lance of metal to the heart. Her trip into the long dark was merciful and quick.

  When the next four came, it was as a group full of rage and hate. Dom shot two, missing a third. Nate ran one through, knocking the last aside with a kick. The blue-white flash of Dom’s blaster finished them off. The air smelt of smoke, ozone, and fear. Nate didn’t know if the fear was his or Dom’s.

  Not content with having them outnumbered, the universe took a ridiculous bent, sending ten toward them down the cargo bay’s corridor. Nate straightened, flicked blood from his blade, and snarled. “Come on, then.”

  He thought of Valerie. Nate didn’t care right then she was working on releasing a cure for them all. He didn’t concern himself with the tyranny of an Empire, its boot against all their necks while it tested its latest bioweapon. Nate cared his best friend was safe, and that kept his blade steady, fear from his heart, and purpose in his arm.