“But isn’t that good?” she asked.
Len shook his head. “It doesn’t give us much time to get our share of people and supplies out of HQ, which means an extra burden on the others. Especially since—” Len turned to Douglas, the pilot. “One of the squads didn’t make it. It was Mortimor’s group, so we’re down to four ships.”
Douglas cursed under his breath. He shook his head. “So who’s in charge?”
“Over here? I don’t know. Arthur isn’t at HQ anymore—he jumped out of order. Everything’s gone to hell. What I do know is that the first group through the rift is temporarily in charge on the other side, so we need to focus.”
“Alright.” The pilot nodded. “Go tell the others, then. We need to get Ryke and his equipment up here. We’ll take the lead on the other side, which means closing this damn rift might fall to us.”
“What’s going on?” Anlyn asked. She stood aside as Len pushed his way past and disappeared aft. “You’re trying to close the rift? Will that stop the invasion?”
Edison returned to his seat and adjusted one of the radio dials. The pilot turned to face Anlyn. “We’re going to close the rift from the other side. Even if there wasn’t a massive fleet guarding it over here, there’s just no way to access it in this slop.” He gestured toward the snow. “Honestly, though, this whole thing was thrown together in a few days. You’re best off talking to Ryke about it when he gets here.”
“That’s not the Ryke, is it?” Anlyn asked. Among the whispers of the Underground, his legend, how the first messages sent to Drenard led to the group’s formation, was less hushed talk and more of a canyon’s howl.
“The same,” said Douglas. “He’s gonna be pretty excited to meet a member of the Circle.”
“It isn’t an honor, I assure you. Especially not now. Haven’t you heard of the invasion?”
“This one?” Douglas waved one hand at the windshield, his brows drooping. “Yeah, I’m aware of it.”
“Negative,” Edison said, settling back in his seat. “The one with Drenard as its originating locus.”
“My empire has declared war on the Humans,” Anlyn explained.
“You’ve gotta be kidding,” Douglas said. “Why would they do that?”
“I have no idea. Why am I defying the Circle’s decree? Why did you join the Underground? Why are any of us doing anything?”
Len ran back into the cockpit. “Ryke’s on his way, sir, but there’s gonna be a delay. Some emergency shipment to group two has the timetables fouled.”
“Emergency equipment? What for?”
“It wasn’t clear. HQ said they were putting something together for a rescue attempt of group one. It sounds like that new guy is jumping down to help them.”
The pilot turned, his eyes wide. “Cole? What do you mean, jumping down?”
“Gravchute, sir, but it’s all rumors from what I can tell. Sounds like the kid wants to bail out of group two’s ship, if you can believe that. If you ask me, there’s way too much chatter about it on the carrier frequency. It’s gonna get us spotted if they keep it up.”
“Well, at least we’ll be through the rift before the fool causes too much trouble and gets the rest exposed.”
Edison grunted. “Uncanny similarity between label and behavior of a Cole I’m acquainted with.” He rose from his seat and moved aside for Len to take his place.
Anlyn laughed.
The pilot jabbed a thumb at Edison. “What did he say?”
“Nothing,” Anlyn said. “Just that the guy you’re talking about reminds him of a friend of ours. Same name.”
“Yeah? Yours a troublemaker, too?” The pilot shook his head. “This kid’s been in camp for less than a week and he’s got the brass to chase down infiltrators in a skimmer when he hasn’t even been checked out to pilot the damn machines.”
“Figured it out pretty quick,” Len said as he adjusted something on the dash.
“Yeah?” The pilot turned to him. “Did those two hyperskimmers come back in one piece?”
“No, but neither did those two traitors,” Len rejoined.
Douglas shrugged. “Still, that shouldn’t give him license to dream up a raid like this.” He laughed. “Then again, rumor has it he’s dating the old man’s daughter, and we all know where that’ll get you…”
“He’s dating Fyde’s daughter?” Len asked. He reached back and slipped his arms into the flight harness. “Hyperspace, man, I didn’t hear that rumor—”
“Wait,” Anlyn said. She grabbed Len by the shoulder. “Fyde? Mortimor Fyde?”
Len smiled. “Perfect. Nothing can get out of hyperspace, except of course for Mortimor’s reputation.” He turned to Anlyn. “Whatever you’ve heard about the old man—”
“No,” Anlyn said, shaking her head. “Your Cole and our Cole are the same person.” She turned to Edison. “What in the galaxy is he doing here?”
Edison shrugged. A rare, confused look settled across his face. It was a look that gave Anlyn chills.
Further aft, there was a loud pop of air.
The first in an eager line of people and supplies had boarded their ship.
Before stepping into the airlock, Cole let Arthur check his gravchute. After going over the straps and readouts, Arthur slapped Cole’s helmet twice. Cole turned and raised his visor.
“Wish me luck!”
“What I wish is that I’d been able to talk you out of this.”
“No way,” Cole said. “I’m looking forward to it. Now get back, I wanna beat them down there.”
Arthur pressed his lips together but nodded. “Okay,” he said. “Good luck.” He scanned Cole’s jumpsuit one more time, his eyes flickering over the combat harness. “Better put those grenades in a pocket before you jump. The pins’ll pop loose if you go down hard.”
Cole nodded and unclipped the two precious grenades—gifts from the normally tight munitions officer. He backed into the lock, leaving Arthur just past the jamb, then slapped the inner hatch shut and turned to the outer door. Spreading his feet wide, he grabbed one of the handles rimming the hatch and memorized the location of the door controls. He slid his black goggles into place and snapped his visor shut. Reaching out in the new and absolute darkness, he felt for the controls, lifted the protective cover, and pressed the red button. The outer door before him irised open, and a flood of hyperspace photons peeled his blindness away, the darkened goggles providing him with normal vision.
There was a little suction from the wind outside, but not much. Cole stuck his head out to see where the wings were on the Bern ship; he spotted them high and behind. He turned and saw Arthur smiling at him through the porthole, his own goggles down over his eyes. Cole gave the old trillionaire the thumbs-up, then jumped out sideways, stiffening his body to plummet faster as he angled down through the curtain of fluttering white snow.
Cole immediately felt the frigid air through the fabric of his flightsuit, but most of the wind’s noise was blocked out by his helmet. Just as in his Academy jump training, there was an odd sensation missing from leaping out of a moving ship. He expected his stomach to rise into his throat, but nothing of the sort took place. All he felt was the friction of a cold breeze as he plummeted like a dropped dart.