Adam functioned best when he had a task. The task itself didn’t matter, it could be completing a set in the gym or rushing guns drawn into the tumult of a monster-infested station. The latter was doing well at keeping intruding questions from entering his head, such as why is the company I’m a part of making horrific bio weapons or did my mother know an RC exec tried to assassinate me? Both questions could be rationalized away. A terrorist stole unfinished RC research and Vaughan Spectre probably didn’t recognize him when he ordered the hit. The thoughts kept creeping to the forefront until they got shooed away by the blast of a shotgun.

“How many of these things do we have to kill?” ZT asked, picking off an infernum whose horns had grown as long as her arms.

“The number’s only gonna get higher until we stop Vaelor,” Ebby replied, cutting down a frog-mouthed man with a swing of her crackling beam blade.

“Hurry up, Hox!” Adam called to the lagging infernum.

“I’m not made for all this running,” Hoxley said. “Cooking and reading aren’t the best cardio!”

“Speaking of what you’re made for,” Odybrix said, “the masked asshole called you brother. Any family history you want to divulge?”

“I don’t have a brother. I’m an only child.”

“Yeah, I believe that actually,” Odybrix said, snapping off a shot from her pistol to finish off a monster Adam had kneecapped with a shotgun.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“The word ‘sheltered’ comes to mind. So do ‘recluse’ and ‘shut-in’ and ‘self-involved.’”

“I’m not-”

“‘Big nerd’…”

“So what did he mean when he called you ‘brother’?” Sturdy asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe he’s actually an infernum behind that mask?”

“What about the lightning?” Buddy asked from the cockpit of the mech.

“What lightning?” Hoxley asked, looking more addled by the sudden barrage of questions than by the chaos around him.

“You shot that thing back there with lightning, didn’t you? Do you have some sort of electric discharge weapon you’re hiding?”

“I, um…”

“Maybe like a turbo-charged stormshot carbine?”

“Yes. That. Hey, is that the hangar we’re looking for?”

Two sentries clad in black combat armor stood by the entrance. One held a last-generation laser rifle and had a bandolier of grenades strapped around their chest. The other had a peppershot holstered at the hip and was casually watching their companion fire beams down the corridor at some unseen target. Adam knew a mercenary outfit when he saw one.

“Down this hallway,” he said, pulling Hoxley out of sight.

“What are the chances they saw us?” Zenith asked.

“Laser guy might have hidden our approach, but we’re not getting much closer unnoticed,” Adam said looking up at Buddy in the mech.

“So we engage them in combat!” BOB said, tromping forward, “I will draw their fire!”

“No!” Adam hissed, wrapping an arm around the bulk of BOB and bringing them both to a stumbling stop. “We need to take them quietly or we’re going to draw out that super mech. If we’re going to fight that thing, I want to get the drop on it.”

“If they’re sharing a vid feed it won’t matter if we take them quietly,” Sturdy said, inspecting his gun as if he were already resigned to a firefight.

“Well, I’d rather hope for the best and plan for the worst. BOB might be able to scramble their comms remotely and ZT can snipe-”

“Where’s the infernum?” Sturdy asked.

“Right here,” Hoxley said.

“No, the one who knows how to fight.”

“She is engaging the enemy!” BOB said.

“What?!” Adam said, whipping around the corner and leveling his shotgun.

Ebby stood in front of the two mercs, one hand on her hip, the other gesturing indistinctly at something in the distance. Her fingers twitched in a quick series of movements that were easy to miss in her jovial body language. Adam’s hold on the trigger slackened with his jaw at the mercs’ response. They lowered their guns, gave sharp nods to Ebby, and proceeded to stalk off down the corridor.

“What the hell was that?” Adam asked, approaching with a cautious eye turned toward the departing hostiles.

“I let them know they had something more important to tend to down the way.”

“And they just…listened?” Zenith asked.

“You just need to know how to ask nicely. Ain’t that right, hon?” Ebby asked, eying Hoxley.

“Uh, yes?”

“How long before they’re back?” Adam asked.

“An hour or so.”

“BOB, can you change the passcode on the hanger bay entry? I don’t want them coming back and flanking us.”

“Consider us unflankable!”

“Alright, we’re going in.”


—


The hangar was a circular landing pad big enough for a Tartan class ship. A cluttered storage ring enclosed the space, providing the crew with cover on their approach. Adam gestured for Zenith and Buddy to take up positions at the entrance to the hangar proper and for BOB to guard their rear. Best not to have that much metal stomping around. He waved for Ebby to join him, tapped a sequence on his PDA band, and held up his arm.

“Encrypted channel,” he whispered.

Ebby tapped her arm against his, “Thanks for inviting me to the dance. I can hear the other guests behind that door.”

“Ebby, Sturdy, and Hox sweep right. Odybrix, Jim, and I go left. There’s got to be an operations room somewhere in the ring. If we can get there we might be able to trigger some security measures and take a few of them out. Whatever we can do to make it so the mech is our only issue.”

“Maybe I should stay back and guard the exit,” Hoxley said, nervously looking down the corridor.

“You’re the best tech we have after BOB. If your group finds the ops room, you’ll be needed.”

“Why not have the best tech?” BOB asked.

“You and Buddy are a bit loud for a stealth op, BOB. You two and ZT will stay here and secure our exit. The door ahead leads right into the hangar, so you can lay down fire if needed.”

Hoxley eyed Sturdy and Ebby nervously.

“You’re in good hands,” Ebby said, nudging him with her elbow as she stepped past and began slinking behind crates and canisters.

“Couldn’t I go with Jim?”

“He’ll be helping us if we find ops,” Adam said.

“Don’t worry, Hox,” Odybrix whispered cheerfully, “there won’t be much Jim could do to patch you up if the mech gets you.”

“You see the bright side of everything, don’t you?”

Adam activated his optic HUD and set it to rotate video feeds from the crew. If they had been suited up for a mission and not a station stroll, all of the crew would have cams strapped to them. As it stood, he had a feed from Zenith—bless her for always wearing a helmet—and integrated feeds from Jim, BOB, and, curiously, Sturdy, which meant he had an implant too. It wasn’t total coverage, but it would do.

A rectangle of streaming video floated in Adam’s vision as he led Jim and Odybrix through a labyrinth of cargo. On it, Sturdy led the other team through a similarly cluttered maze. His eyes flicked and darted in a familiar pattern: checking corners, glancing around large objects, and never lingering for long on any one thing. Military training had been drilled into his swiveling head just as it had been Adam’s.

A hopeful feeling emerged on the back burner of Adam’s mind. Having someone else with that discipline on the crew would be a welcome turn of events. All the better if he had experience working with Remington. Adam pushed the feeling down; fantasizing about improved squad compositions was an unnecessary distraction. Moreover, the greenhorn hadn’t proven himself yet.

As if challenged by the thought, Sturdy quickly snapped to cover behind a crate. With a quick wave of two fingers, he motioned for Hoxley and Ebby to hide. Seconds later, two mercs strolled onto the screen, an infernum with a shotgun and a human with a plasma pistol. Adam tensed when one turned towards the skulking crew, but Sturdy clocked the movement and hid.

“Think we could load any of this on the ship?” Shotgun said, barely audible.

“I don’t think that weirdo is going to want us loading random shit on his ship. Is anything even worth the effort?”

“Over here,” Pistol said, kicking something, “Box of single malt from Hearthlight.”

Sturdy chanced a quick look. Both mercs had turned to face a small wooden box. He raised a flat hand, staying any action from his squad mates. Glancing down at his pistol, he flicked a switch, causing the barrel to extend several inches. Without hesitation, he stepped out of cover and took two silenced shots, each striking a man in the back of the head. He and Ebby sprinted forward, each catching their share of dead weight before it noisily clattered to the floor.

Adam spared a moment to appreciate the precision of the maneuver before pressing forward with Odyrix and Jim in tow. Their shadowy corridor was inhabited by three mercs, which, to Adam’s alarm, had come with holes pre-installed in their heads. Correction, that one’s neck is snapped. A professional did this.

A crouched figure came into view as Adam’s unit approached. A tiny spark lit up his frame as he attempted to open an access panel. Tactical armour covered most of his body, but the light revealed the green skin of the orc’s face. Even squatting down, Adam picked out all of the muscular hallmarks of a fighter. Completing the picture was the weapon lying at his side, too hard to identify in the dim light, but hefty-looking.

The corridor was split in two by a long, metallic container. Adam motioned for Jim to sweep left and flank the orc, while he and Odybrix hid in the shadows. Making an educated guess that the orc was just as inclined towards stealth as they were, Adam pulled a small bottle of caffeine pills from his belt and unstoppered it. The minute pop broke just enough silence to draw only the orc’s attention.

Despite his bulk, the orc immediately somersaulted away from the door, abandoning the large weapon and pulling out a pistol. A moment later, he was behind cover. Jim’s display slowly rolled past the corner the orc had hidden behind, giving him a good look at the professional. There was a chance Jim could take out the orc with a single shot, but the noise would reveal the crew and start a firefight they couldn’t win. There was also a chance that this man could be an ally. He had just killed Vaelor’s goons after all. Adam took a chance.

“Are you after the masked weirdo too?” Adam whispered from cover.

There was a brief pause before the orc responded, “Yeah.”

“You’d rather not make a ton of noise, right?”

“That’s right.”

“I’m going to come out. If you’re still in a neck-snapping mood, just know you’re flanked.”

“By the bald guy, yeah, I noticed. And I’d rather not snap any more necks than needed.”

The orc stepped out a few seconds after Adam, pistol down, but body tensed for action. At his full height, he was two inches taller than Adam. There were no identifying emblems on his gear, which meant that he likely fell into one of two categories: undercover operative or independent merc. Whatever his employment status, his movement spoke of formal training.

“Pretty nimble in that combat armor,” Adam offered.

“Gymnastics mixed in with interval training. It’s paid off a lot since I started incorporating it into the workout regimen.”

“I’ll bet. Hostiles probably aren’t expecting someone your size to do flips. Maybe I’ll have to try it out.”

“The biggest challenge is finding the space to accommodate the training aboard a ship, but if you’ve got the room, it’s worth it.”

“Are you two fucking serious right now?” Odybrix hissed, glaring up at Adam. “There’s a murder mech 50 feet away from us and the station is full of bloodthirsty mutants. Maybe exchange names and numbers and have your bro-talk later. Speaking of which, who the fuck are you?”

“Kron,” he said, extending a hand to her. “I serve the Grolvar empire.”

Odybrix stared at the hand, frowning, then Adam pulled it into a shake. “Adam. Independent mercs. We’ve got some personal business to settle with Vaelor. What are you after?”

“Something he stole from the High Warlord.”

“It’s not a weird twisty knife that’s painful to look at, is it?”

“No, it’s more of a small cube,” Kron said, making a boxy motion with his hands.

“Sounds like we don’t have conflicting interests. Interested in a brief team-up?”

“Hell yeah. Are any of you good with locks?”

“We just met this guy,” Odybrix stated, exasperated.

“I have a good feeling about him.”

“Same for you, Buddy,” Kron said.

“Besides, we let Sturdy join.”

“I’m not happy about that either,” she said, throwing her arms into the air.

“The crew could benefit from more exposure to military discipline. Jim, can you get that lock?”

The doctor approached the access panel and placed a hand around the bottom border. His fingers dispersed into black particles that slipped into the seam around the edge of the glass plate. He braced his body over the area and with a small jerk of the arm, the panel opened with a muffled pop.

Kron let out an impressed, “Hmm!” Odybrix bustled Jim out of the way a moment later and began overriding the lock. She motioned everyone to take positions and the door slid open a few seconds later. The door led to an alcove directly in line of sight of Vaelor’s mercs.

“Guess that’s as far as we go this way,” Adam said. “Any luck on your end, Sturdy?”

He didn’t reply. The other team had posted up beside an open door, Sturdy on one side, keeping an eye on the unexplored corridor, Ebby on the other, Denise in hand and ready to cut someone in half. Hoxley was out of frame, which meant he was cowering somewhere further back along the path they had cleared. Sturdy quickly glanced in the room, sighting a single merc standing at a large control board—the ops station. With only a clear window between the merc and the rest of the enemy unit, any attempt to take him out would be seen.

Ebby pointed at Sturdy’s pistol and raised a flat hand, indicating he should hold back. She produced a small red marble from her pocket. A tiny stun grenade? She took a breath, then slid the marble into the room towards the merc. It rolled silently across the room until it collided with his boot and… did nothing. The merc looked down, confused, then bent to pick up the marble. In one swift motion, Ebby lit up her beam blade and flung it into the room. It spun around like a saw blade, below the line of sight of the window. The merc looked up in time to see the radiant energy as it cut clean through his face and bent body. To anyone who happened to be looking through the glass, it would have appeared as if he had bent down to check something.

“Clear,” Ebby said.

“How did you get the blade to shut off?” Sturdy asked.

“It’s rigged for stunts like this.”

Sturdy grunted an acknowledgment, then turned back to find Hoxley slinking forward, “I’m going to push ahead and secure the rest of the ring. See what you can get out of the ops room.”

“Sure you don’t want me to handle that?” Ebby asked.

Hoxley crouched down to crawl into the room, whispering in mock offense, “You leave the hacking to me, I’ll leave the slashing to you.”

Sturdy pressed on, stopping at a locked door. The visual feed jostled and he pulled out a small rectangular box. Hacking tool. No manufacturer’s symbol. With a few keystrokes, the panel made a gentle chime and unlocked. The door opened with a soft hiss.

He scanned the room with another bobbing glance. No hostiles. The display swept over the room as he entered, cautiously checking around corners. An empty dead end. Sturdy turned to rejoin his team and something above the doorway unfolded with a mechanical whine. A four-legged drone clung to the ceiling, its vaguely dog-shaped head regarding him placidly. Sturdy’s hands came into view as he raised his pistol, and the drone jolted to life. A mounted rifle sprung out of a compartment in its back and rattled off a burst of shots.

Sturdy rolled for cover, shouting, “We’ve been spotted!”

“Open fire!” Adam yelled, whipping into the hanger and blasting the nearest merc with a shotgun.

Vaelor’s thugs dropped the cargo they were hauling and took cover behind their Tartan getaway ship. A dwarf with an eye patch unhooked a grenade from his bandolier and cocked an arm to launch it at Adam, but a round caught him in the head. The grenade slipped from his limp fingers causing his comrades to scatter. The explosion reduced several wooden crates to a spray of splinters and flung a merc face-first into the unyielding metal of the ship with a loud twang.

“Got your back,” Zenith said. “Take out that masked asshole.”

Vaelor stood calmly amidst the flying bullets and plasma, unreadable behind the white mask. Kron appeared at Adam’s side a moment later with his oversized gun. The weapon hummed to life and rapidly spat out gouts of green plasma, carving a fist-sized chunk out of a nearby merc’s chest and catching Vaelor in the shoulder.

The masked man showed no sign of pain. If his robe hadn’t been singed, there would be no indication he had been shot. He raised a finger and pointed it at Adam. Simultaneously, Kron’s weapon clattered to the ground and he lunged, tackling Adam as a resounding crack and boom filled the hangar. A smoking black smear appeared on the wall he had stood in front of.

“Was that a fucking lightning bolt?” Odybrix said, rushing out of cover and surrounding the two large soldiers in a bubble of psionic energy.

“That might only be our second biggest problem,” Sturdy said, appearing on the adjacent side of the hangar. A red splotch was spreading on his arm, and his face looked like it had been splashed with oil. “Buddy, get your GEM in here.”

Harlow’s mech emerged from the Tartan, stomping down the ramp with two artillery drones in tow. The din of the firefight faded with each heavy step, combatants all taking note of the new arrival. The mech leaned forward as if were going to topple over, then jetted forward, whipping around the hangar with terrifying speed. Harlow made a circuit around the ship, then landed next to Vaelor with a slam, shielding him from Adam’s team.

Adam’s legs were already moving when the hum of the mech’s plasma cannon reached his ears. He grabbed the back of Odybrix’ shirt, hoisting her like a belligerent cat, and yanked Kron toward the passage they came from. A searing blast crossed the doorway as they fell past the threshold. Adam leveled his weapon at the open door, expecting the mech to appear and cut them down. Instead, he saw it sweep away through Sturdy’s feed and force the second team back into hiding with a barrage from the cannon.

“Hoxley, we could use some help from ops,” Adam said.

“There are no security measures other than lockdown, and I don’t think any of us want to play sleepover with that thing. I’ve got the flight plan of the ship. We can track them.”

“I may be able to do better!” BOB said cheerfully. “The drones have weak encryption! I can use them to eliminate Vaelor!”

On cue, the four-legged artillery drones spun from their defensive positions around the ship and fired at the masked man. Bullets thudded into his body, shredding his clothes, and spraying blood on the floor around him. Only, from what Adam could see on the feed, whatever vital fluids were spilling out of the man weren’t red. Moreover, he was still standing. Harlow flew past his comrade in a blur, drawing the mech’s enormous beam blade and slicing the drones in half. Then he turned to BOB.

The mech swelled in BOB’s feed, speeding toward them furiously. Adam’s breath caught as Harlow raised the blade and swung in a deadly arc—the visual cut to static. Zenith’s feed took over at the sound of her scream. Sparks flew from the wicked gash that had nearly split their crewmate in two. Zenith looked from her friend to her brother. Her rifle trembled in her grip, whether in rage or terror, Adam didn’t know. The mech regarded her, then slowly raised the blade once again.