The Luna Wrath approached Nine as fast as its thrusters would carry it. They raced across the star system, passing by a belt of rocky debris and icy comets.
A pinprick of green emerged from the stars, steadily growing as they approached. After a few minutes, the planet appeared about the size of a fist. Kinfild cut the thrusters and let the Wrath drift. He powered down the cabin lights. “They’ll have a harder time spotting us if our thrusters are dim and internal systems are off.” The shields glimmered for a moment, then flickered off. “Looks like they’re gathering around the abandoned mining ring.”
Jace leaned forwards. Celacor IX was a gas planet. Billowing emerald-green storms wrapped around the world’s equator, the perfect backdrop for three small moons. The planet had no natural rings, but a large fleet of starships waited in orbit, arranged in a uniform grid. There were some large battleships, but many more medium-sized and mismatched vessels. Each one reminded him of an individual soldier preparing for battle.
“Kinfild, are you sure they won't notice us?” Jace asked.
“We’re approaching from an angle they don’t expect, in a ship they aren’t scanning for. We should be fine.”
“That’s not too reass—”
Aur-Six cut him off with a mechanical clatter. The kyborg raced out of the engine room, clanking and waving his arms.
“Hyperspace shadows?” Jace asked.
“Just one.” Kinfild turned in his seat to face the kyborg. “What is it?”
Aur-Six clanked again.
Kinfild nodded. He turned to Jace, then translated, “A battleship, approaching from the west.”
Jace’s eyes widened. A ship from the west—it had to be the one they were looking for. They were just in time.
Kinfild flipped a couple switches above his head, then another beside the control yoke. “Hold on. Aur-Six, keep that furnace hot.”
“Holding on.” Jace grabbed the copilot’s seat’s armrests to steady herself. It didn't do much for his confidence, not when the battleship materialized above them. A boom reverberated through the viewscreen’s glass and the deck vibrated. The emergence shook the very fabric of reality.
The prow of the battleship nearly rammed into them, but Kinfild pushed the yoke forward just in time. The thrusters roared and the Wrath spun. Blood rushed to Jace’s head. Kinfild pushed a foot pedal beneath the control panel, steadying the old freighter. A moment later, he recovered their course and circled to the top of the battleship’s hull—he was headed straight for the center of the upper deck. The Wrath’s thrusters shut off, and there was a metallic clang as they latched onto the cruiser’s hull.
“Mag-clamps on,” Kinfild said. “Now we need to get inside.”
Jace grimaced. “Remember the vac-suits? If we can find a hatch…”
“It might work. There should be maintenance hatches along the hull.” Kinfild unbuckled his crash harness and leapt to his feet. He snatched up his staff. “Quickly. We don’t know how long we have until they spot us.”
The two ran back into the Wrath’s cargo hold. Jace pulled open the cabinet that he’d seen the suits in a couple days before. He pulled one of the rubbery lengths of cloth of its dusty confines and held it up until it unfurled into a human-shaped form.
Jace dropped his sword and jammed his legs and arms into the suit. There was a zipper down the back, but he barely needed to unzip it to slip into the baggy casing. When he did zip it back up, it felt like it would fall off at a moment’s notice.
Kinfild had donned one of the suits as well, but somehow, his clung tight to his form. Under his arm rested a sleek helmet in matching black, with a single plate of glass to see through. He pulled it over his head, and a puff of steam ejected from the back of his neck.
Jace retrieved another helmet from the drawer. It barely fit over his head, but rested on his shoulders gently and automatically sealed to the rest of the suit when he twisted it into position. A slight hiss confirmed the seal, and a whir rattled around the helmet. The suit began to tighten, pumping the excess air out, until it was flush with his jacket and armour. He tied the Whistling Blade to a buckle outside the suit, then followed Kinfild towards the boarding ramp.
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In one hand, the Wielder carried his staff, and in his other, he held what looked like a harpoon. It had a thin wire wrapped around its barrel and a hook at its tip. “There should be a hatch further aft-wards. Once we get out, I won’t be able to talk to you. Stay calm and keep hold of the wire.”
“Got it,” Jace replied.
“Aur-Six, get back to the engine room,” Kinfild instructed. “Shut everything down, and seal the cargo hold’s blast doors. When we’re gone, raise the ramp and pressurize the hold again. We’ll knock when we’re back.”
They waited a few seconds for the kyborg to follow Kinfild’s orders—at least, long enough to let the metal gates on either side of the hold slam shut, sealing the cockpit and the engine room.
“Hold onto something,” Kinfild said.
They both wrapped an arm around the hydraulic cylinders beside the boarding ramp. Kinfild tugged on a lever, and the ramp folded outwards. Air rushed out of the hold, like invisible hands tearing at Jace’s vac-suit. It carried some of the loose boxes and any plants that weren’t fastened down into the void. Jace’s fingers strained against the gale, and he dug his heels into the deck to stay put.
Then, the quiet of the void gripped him, and the silence pressed painfully against his eardrums. He focussed on Kinfild to keep his attention from drifting. Now wasn’t the time to get distracted.
Once the pressure inside and outside had equalized, Kinfild leaned out and fired the harpoon toward the stern of the battleship. The wire pulled taut, and he wedged the harpoon gun between the boarding ramp’s piston and the hull. Jace tugged on it to make sure it was secure.
They pulled themselves along the wire. Jace’s legs floated behind him, and he let them be free. Outside the Wrath, there was no gravity.
He had never imagined he’d actually be out in space. He’d dreamt of it, sure, but never actually doing it himself. But adrenaline kept his eyes focused straight ahead of him. If he lost his grip, he was gone forever. Doomed to float in the void until his oxygen ran out—if it could. Otherwise, he’d starve. Or die of dehydration.
They’d probably crossed over a hundred feet of hull before arriving at the hatch. It nestled in a mess of other machinery, a round circle with a rusty latch in the center. When Kinfild pulled on it, even using his fortification card, the hatch didn’t budge.
Jace pulled on it to no effect, either. It was sealed from the inside. He raised a hand, catching Kinfild’s attention, then pointed down at the hatch. He wasn’t sure if it made any sense.
He tucked his head and activated his hyperdash, phasing through the metal hull—and abandoning the vac suit.
He appeared on the other side of a two-door airlock, hanging mid-air, but he latched onto a grate to keep himself from falling down into the hallway below. There was a latch beside the airlock, and he pulled it. The outer door opened, and Kinfild climbed inside. Wind whooshed for a few seconds, then the bottom door opened, dropping Kinfild down into the hallway.
Jace Let go of the grate. Artificial gravity tugged him to the ground. He landed in a crouch, then sprang back to his feet.
They were in.
They stood in a corridor. It was clad entirely in pale white plastic, except for steel bulkheads. On the ceiling, metal grates covered fluorescent lights. Jace’s hand hovered over the hilt of his sword, but there was no one around.
“I believe this is the central corridor.” Kinfild pointed down the wider of the two hallways, then pulled off his suit’s helmet and dropped it to the floor. “It shouldn’t be this empty, even during a hyperspace jump.”
“Where to?” Jace asked. “We—”
Jace cut himself off. Footsteps boomed down the hallway. They both ducked around the corner, using the nearest bulkhead as cover. With a shared nod, they agreed to keep quiet. Jace set a hand on the hilt of his sword, but Kinfild violently shook his head and mouthed ‘no’.
The footsteps grew louder and louder until two silver-armoured Koedor-Terginian soldiers stepped into the crossroads, looking up at the hatch. One of them began to speak with a thick accent, “I don’t see anything wrong here. It must be a faulty sensor.”
Jace didn’t dare to breathe. Any sound might draw the soldiers’ attention.
“Let’s just continue on to the brig, then,” the other replied. “It’s too early in the morning for this.” They turned their backs and continued down the hall. The first soldier almost had to run to catch up with the other, more impatient looking one.
“Just hurry up or you’ll miss the entire fight,” the impatient soldier said. “I’m sure you know where that is.”
“Furnace two?”
“Of course. They won’t let her die—some Elder wizard-cultivator person wants to speak with her—but that doesn’t mean we can’t get some entertainment out of it first!”
Jace and Kinfild waited, unmoving for a few minutes, until finally, the soldiers’ footsteps faded. Jace let himself exhale, then he took a short breath and peered out into the hallway. The guards were gone. “Wherever Lessa is, they’re going that way.”
“We should get the codes, first,” Kinfild whispered. “They are more important.”
Jace inhaled sharply, then shook his head. “We can split up. Find what you need. I’ll find Lessa and meet you back here.”
“Very well,” Kinfild said. “But don’t get yourself killed for this.”
“I won’t.”