Michael remembered what Aileena said as Orson lifted his glass. Michael dove across the table, slapping the drink from the man’s hand. His bodyguards lunged forwards and Michael threw himself back into his seat.
“Sorry! Eurians don’t drink alcohol. That drink’s mostly acid!”
Orson looked down at his shirt. The drink had hit the side of the booth, smashing against the floor but flecks of the liquid had splattered across his clothes. Tiny holes had already begun to appear. He patted it down with his sleeve.
“Settle down lads,” he said, gesturing to his men. “Looks like Michael saved us from a nasty accident. Thank you. Would have been really easy for you to get rid of us if you had said nothing.”
“I don’t hold anything against you. I just want to go back home, to Earth. That’s all I ever wanted, really.”
“Good luck with that. The Council is holding a tight grip on our home. That’s why we’re out here,” Orson lowered his head, his voice dropping to a whisper, “fighting.”
“Sorry? I don’t follow.” Michael found himself mirroring his counterpart’s volume.
“My men and I, we defected. And it’s all your fault. Chasing you gave us some questions, ones we didn’t like the answers to. You know the Council oppresses planets? Brainwashes them on a large scale with their religion? They have the blood of trillions on their hands.”
Michael nodded. “Yeah, I know. Not like any of the other galactic powers are that friendly. Had real trouble with something called the Substrate.”
“I know them. That’s how we got out, pretended our ship was destroyed in battle with the Substrate than went AWOL. Not before sending what we had learned back to Earth. After that, we’ve been trying to build up a resistance. The Council has a lot of control, but there’s always someone pissed off enough to fight back.”
“Which is why you’ve been pretending to be me. You’re using the Knower as a figurehead. It’s why you’re on Euria,” Michael said.
“Planet full of mercs, most of them pissed at the Council. Their attack caught a lot of collateral aside from the monastery,” Brekt said. He took a sip from his drink, the liquid within harmless to him.
“Exactly.” Orson leant back against the side of the booth. “We’ve managed to get ourselves an upgrade on the Gallant, our patrol ship, but we need people to crew it. We need fighters.”
“This is why you wanted to meet face to face,” Michael said, his finger tapping the table as he spoke. “You can’t have another Knower running around, it’s bad for business, so to speak. That’s kind of cynical, to abuse people’s beliefs like that.”
“I got the idea from you, on Ossiark. It’s what you did in the arena.”
“Fair point. So, what do you want Orson?”
“Nothing, not really. I just wanted to talk. I know last time I promised if I saw you, I would catch you. That’s obviously not true anymore. We’re part of an exclusive club out here, the few humans in the galaxy at large. Shooting at each other is probably a terrible idea considering.”
“Ok. Well then. Glad we agree.” Michael shifted in his seat. Both sides of the booth had hard wooden seating with no cushions. It wasn’t comfortable.
“Why are you here?”
“Picking up some friends.”
“In that ship of yours?” Orson said. “Didn’t have that the last time. It’s a big bit of kit, seems like we’ve both had an upgrade. You’ve got that thing; we’ve got the Shield out there.”
“The Shield?” Michael’s eyebrow arched as he spoke. “That’s weird, ours is the Sword. What are the odds on that?”
“That is pretty funny.”
“So, how many humans you got aboard?”
“A fair few. About thirty. Why?”
“This is going to sound insane, but I need some blood,” Michael said.
An alarm rang, a deep booming, the bass shaking the table of the booth, glasses rattling across the wet metal. The crowd began to rush through the doors, reacting quickly to the noise.
“What the hell is that?” Michael said.
“That’s the emergency alarm, abandon station,” Brekt said. He was already out of the booth and halfway across the bar.
“Michael, we’ve got a problem.” Aileena’s voice was coming out from the communicator bracelet she had slapped around Michael’s wrist before he had left. Orson and his men had left the booth, but from what Michael could see he was also talking into a similar communicator.
“We’ve always got a problem it feels like,” Michael said. He was holding his wrist to his face as he spoke. It felt a little awkward.
“Yeah, well this is a big problem. A Substrate dreadnought has just jumped into the system. Get yourself back to the Sword now.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Things were not going well. Aileena let her shoulders slump in her chair as the Sword completed the manoeuvres she had input into the controls. She was trying to place the ship between the incoming Substrate dreadnought and the planet, but the massive warship kept adjusting its course, seemingly eager to go around the Sword. It was supposed to be an easy trip, in and out in a few days, nice and simple. Now the Substrate was threatening her world, her home, and Aileena couldn’t help but feel it was partly her fault. There was a terrible sense of history repeating to the whole situation. This is what had happened at Cortica, a Substrate dreadnought and its pirate friends turning the world to glass.
Aileena turned her head, looking across the bridge to Mellok. He was staring at the sensor readings, fire in his eyes. His feathers had changed colour, taking on a deep crimson red. Aileena turned back to the hologram hovering over her console. They had barely made it out last time, the enemy bombarding their shield until it had nearly overloaded the ship’s power grid. Things were different now; the ship had been upgraded and this Substrate vessel lacked the supporting fleet the previous one had. Aileena knew the ship on the hologram before her-a long jagged rock covered in engines and guns-was in for a nasty shock.
“You ready with the shield?” Aileena said, shouting across the bridge. The room was much too big for their tiny crew. There were enough seats for dozens to work there.
Kestok spun his chair around. “Yes. I’ve got everything set up. I think I’ve got the hand of the targeting, but I can’t promise I’ll be as good a shot as Brekt.”
“No-one is. Doesn’t matter, we can sit here all-day throwing shots back at that dreadnought. You’ll have plenty of chance to practice.”
“Can’t say I ever imagined learning to be a gunner was what I had in mind when I got my engineering qualifications.”
Aileena let out a quiet laugh. “But being a gladiator was?”
“I see your point.” Kestok turned back to his console, fingers hovering ready over the keys. To his right, Skorra was watching intently. She always was, gleaning what she could from the engineer. Skorra and Kestok had just grown closer over the months, he and Meggok essentially adopting the girl.
“It might be a good idea to fire off smaller shots constantly, instead of saving up for a bigger one,” Skorra said, her ears twitching as she spoke. “Could be easier on the power systems?”
“Yeah, that’s a good idea.” Kestok was constantly impressed by Skorra. She had no formal training of any sort, her knowledge gleaned from constant tinkering. This meant she was often wildly wrong about things, but she also had this knack for coming up with ideas he would never have thought of. She wasn’t constrained in her thinking; years of education hadn’t drummed into her the one true correct way to do things. “The new relays should be more than enough. They handled the barrage from those Unmind ships like it was nothing. But, you’re right, you can never be too safe.”