That meant I was able to execute a tight loop and come in shooting before the champion was able to get back up to speed and escape. Two more hits took his shield down. He dodged away, but I fell on his tail.
One more shot and I’d win this. I got in close as Darkshadow dodged into some rubble, then lined up for the shot—but in that instant Darkshadow blasted his IMP. The wave of close-range energy knocked out my own shield. He darted away on a massive overburn before I could land the shot.
“Not bad,” M-Bot said. “That champion is good.”
Yeah. Strangely so. When Darkshadow got away from me, he used what seemed like a DDF scatter escape—very similar to the series of maneuvers I’d taught the Broadsiders. I couldn’t be absolutely certain, but something about the way he flew was familiar. Who was this? Did he really have the same training that I’d been given? Was it…
I felt a sudden cold feeling, mixed with longing. Could it be him? I’d felt him in here, when questing outward. Or was that just wishful thinking?
Don’t be stupid, the rational part of my brain said. Your father couldn’t fit in that small cockpit. In fact, of all the races you know, it could only fit a figment or…or a…
Oh, scud! “M-Bot, can you get a comm line to that champion?”
“Of course,” he said. He flashed the light on the instrument panel that let me know the line was open.
“Hey, Darkshadow,” I said to the other ship, which was hugging the perimeter and flying upward. “Any last words before I defeat you?”
“I am a swift minnow upon the tides of time,” the response came. “They may crush ships against the shore, but I swim them easily.”
Well, Saints and stars. It was him.
“Spensa!” M-Bot said, cutting the line to the other ship. “That voice. It’s—”
“Hesho,” I said.
“He’s dead!”
“He vanished during the fight with Brade,” I said, “when the kitsen ship was blasted open and exposed to vacuum. They assumed he got sucked out. But that was in the middle of a lot of weird things happening with cytonics.”
Not the least of which had involved the summoning of a delver into the somewhere.
“I feel…” M-Bot said. “I feel happy! I never spoke to him directly, but I feel like he was my friend, Spensa.”
He was mine too. “Open that comm line again,” I said. “Hey, Hesho? It’s me. It’s…um, Alanik… Well, you know, the person who was pretending to be her…”
Right. That was all rather complicated.
“I know not that name,” the voice said. “I am the Darkshadow. He with no past. The nameless warrior cursed to wander eternity without home or ally, always seeking memories he can no longer retain. I am fleeting, but a whisper upon time itself.”
He said it all with utter solemnity. Man, I loved that little fox-gerbil.
“You don’t remember anything?” I asked him.
“I have only the instincts of a warrior to guide me,” he replied. “You will not distract me from my current purpose, adversary. Though you have fought admirably, I will defeat you, then compose poetry for your funeral.”
“This…um…isn’t to the death, Hesho.”
“I will defeat you,” he said in the same exact tone, “and compose poetry for your retirement party.”
He must have been isolated during his first days in the belt, and lost everything. Now that I knew who it was, I was even more impressed by his flying. Hesho had commanded a ship, and though my memory was admittedly fuzzy, I thought he’d mostly acted as a captain.
But he’d also been part of my extensive training sessions. I’d assumed some random crewmember had been manning—er, fox-gerbiling—the controls of their ship. It seemed, however, that the pilot had been Hesho himself.
How could I use that knowledge? He might be good at dodging and following flight patterns, but he would have let members of his bridge crew work other system controls. He’d messed up earlier on a light-lance pivot. He wouldn’t be as good at multitasking as I was.
I moved in close to some other asteroids as he tried to come back around to attack me. I kept him busy, weaving and dodging, and got farther and farther ahead of him. Finally, he broke off to pull back.
At that moment, I shut down my systems to go for a shield reignition. He, expectedly, did the same. You couldn’t run boosters and power up a shield at the same time.
The thing was, I was feinting.
As soon as he powered down, I spun my ship and slammed on my overburn, ripping across the battlefield toward him. He was too slow to respond, and he barely powered up before I reached him. Instead of shooting him, however, I hit him with my light-lance, then leaned hard on the controls, boosting with everything I had. This flipped my ship around—yanking him like a ball on a chain and sending him spinning out through the perimeter of the arena.
There, he was shot by at least ten watching pirate ships from various factions—completely locking up his ship.
“Dramatic,” M-Bot said.
“Hesho deserves the best,” I said to him. “Even if he doesn’t remember. Hang on. Before we go celebrate, I need to buzz the delvers again.”
“Is that smart?”
“Nope,” I said, slowing and crossing the arena as if to rejoin the Broadsiders—but veering close to a white spot.
We can work this out, I sent to the delvers. You don’t have to fight us. Don’t listen to Winzik, at the very least. He is evil.
Evil is a thing of noises, they sent back, confused by the impressions I’d sent them. You are all evil.
Please, I sent. I am trying to understand you.
Understand this. Leave. All of you must leave. And never return.
The impression was filled with malevolence, disgust, and…fear? Yes, fear. They hadn’t wanted me to feel that part, but I could now pick out more and more that they wanted to hide.
The impression faded, and I left the region feeling disappointed. No accommodation. One of us would have to be destroyed.
I rejoined the Broadsiders, who were gathering together with the other hundred-odd ships of the various pirate factions. Peg was already on the comm, broadcasting widely to all of the collected pirates. “Ha!” she said. “So much for your secret weapon, Vlep!”
He didn’t respond. The members of the Cannonade Faction were already gathering to withdraw. Whatever Peg’s next move, she needed to make it now.
“Look how strong we’ve grown,” she said, inching her shuttle out of the Broadsider line to face all the others. “Look at how skilled we’ve become! How many months has it been since any of us have lost a ship to the Superiority?”
“Vlep lost one a few weeks back,” Gremm said, his voice a grumble. “But my fighters are good enough to avoid it.”
Peg inched her shuttle forward a little farther. “The Superiority forces at Surehold are weak! While we have grown stronger and stronger. Now, you see the champion I’ve brought? She’s been training my fighters. She spent her life fighting the Superiority!”
“Wait,” a new voice said. “Is this true?” It was another rough voice, speaking Peg’s language. I guessed that was her other son, Semm.
“It’s true,” I said. “My people have been at war with the Superiority for decades, and I know their tactics. I’ve destroyed dozens of their ships—eighty-seven actually, at last count. If you want to take Surehold, I can make it happen.”