Wait a second, Nathan Chevell. We’ve been cut off from the entire universe since we got here. Who the hell is sending you mail?
The problem with asking yourself a question was that your brain wouldn’t leave it alone until you answered it. He keyed the mail. A bunch of messages from Hope. She must have sent them while he was out getting his sword back.
You were getting your crew, Nate. The damn sword was never the reason.
Okay, here we go. Some files on the Ezeroc. A quick skim suggested they were nasty little fuckers. Infected people through various means.
Infected people.
Through various means.
His fingers hovered over the comm. Keep reading, Nate. There were a few different shapes and sizes they came in. Some guesswork on tech. Ah — pay dirt. Hope had sent him the unlock codes Penn had used on the Gladiator. His fingers twitched on the comm again. “Hope?”
“I was getting bored down here,” said Hope, the tone of her voice suggesting she was far from bored.
“These codes for the Gladiator still good?”
“Should be good to go, Cap,” she said. “Might not be much use. The Gladiator’s just a floating shell. Even I couldn’t fix her. Hah.”
“Hah,” he agreed. “Thanks Hope.” He clicked the comm off. He stared at the console for a second, then clicked it back on. “Hope?”
“You’ve got Hope,” she said. “Again.”
“Yeah, sorry,” he said. “’Hah?’”
“You know,” she said. “Stressful times.”
“What are you not telling me?” said Nate.
“Nothing, Cap,” she said.
They can infect people through various means. He looked at the comm, then at El. “Thanks, Hope. You go back to making sure we don’t explode, okay?”
“I’ll try,” she said. “You go back to making sure the aliens don’t destroy the universe.”
“You got it,” he said, clicking the comm off. The problem you’ve got now is that you’re pretty sure that there’s an alien on your crew. You’re pretty sure it’s got Kohl. But if you check in with anyone, they’ll know you know, and the goose will be well and truly cooked. They will come at you, and come at you hard. He turned to El. “I think we need to go back.”
“You what now?” she said. “I’ve got everything lined up nice and easy here. We’ll get in the shadow of this planet, maybe tuck ourselves in for the night on the surface.”
“No,” said Nate. “We’re going to run.” He fired up his console again, readying a line to the Gladiator. There was a significant speed of light delay time at play here. He couldn’t talk to the remains of the destroyer out here, not unless he wanted to wait a half hour for his message to get there and another half hour for it to get back. Life was too short for that shit.
“I thought you said,” said El, “that running would make them follow us.”
“Yeah,” said Nate. “That’s right.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way,” said El, “but I’m considering mutiny right now.”
“It’ll all make sense,” said Nate. “Or we’ll be dead soon and it won’t matter.”
“That is not how you give an inspirational speech,” she said.
“I’ll show you inspirational,” he said, and keyed the Endless Drive controls.
The recycled, pure air of the Tyche, like water on his face. The sword in his hand, metal forged by dead kings, now alive in his hand. The stars in the sky spoke to him, their electric whispers the chorus of angels. The rush of movement, speed beyond measure. His mind, a thousand thoughts at once. He was everything. He was the universe.
They jumped.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Kohl stood still, a brick mortared to the floor, eyes wide, mouth open.
Grace stood up, her bleeding fingers around the hilt of her sword. A yank, and it came free from the floor, a soft ring echoing from the steel as she held it up. She twirled it in a lazy circle, post-jump calm around her like a blanket, and cleared her throat. “These jumps aren’t your thing, are they?”
Kohl stepped sideways, two steps, turned in place, and spoke to the wall. “Collective. The sound of rain is brittle.”
“It kinda is,” said Grace. “I hadn’t thought about it that way.” She took a step towards him, then hissed as her body lit with pain. Her back. Her side. Her arm. The hand that held her sword trembled.
Grace Grace Grace Grace Grace.
Grace. Together! Grace.
“You keep saying my name,” said Grace, “like you understand what it means.” She took another step, this one a careful shuffle, easing her body into motion. “You keep talking like you know what it means to be me.”
“Together,” said Kohl, then took a wild swing. His arm whooshed through the air, and through chance or purpose, he was facing her again. His jaw was slack. “Members are the same.” He blinked twice, then his eyes focused on her. “Gracie.”
“Asshole,” she said.
“Are you still having fun?” he said.
“More than you,” she said. Her face was wet with sweat, so she ran the back of her arm across her forehead. “You sound pretty fucked up, Kohl.”
“I do? I do.” He banged a big hand against the side of his head once, twice, three times. “It’s inside me, Grace. I can’t get it out.” He shuddered. “Collect us together.”
“I know, Kohl,” she said. Grace was finding it hard to move. On her best day, taking October Kohl in an even fight would have been impossible. The man was built for one thing. She’d met a few like him. How Nate had got him to crew on the Tyche was anyone’s guess; men like Kohl wanted war. He wasn’t as fast as her. With her sword and a good wind at her back, she might have been able to run him through as he took her head off her shoulders. “You know, I thought I’d be able to get down here. Kill the creature on the ship. I didn’t know the creature was you.”
TOGETHER.
Kohl lunged at her, and she managed a quick, stumbling sidestep.
Grace.
She backed away, feet whisking across the metal deck, sword held low and ready.
Grace!
That time, she saw the fucking thing. Not with her eyes, because it was in Kohl, in his back, but she knew where it was. Exactly where. She watched his face spasm as the insect inside him burrowed. Up, a wiggle, then a centimeter surge.
Kohl screamed, then coughed. “Help,” he said, “me.” One of his hands found the side of his face, fingers like talons, and he raked four lines of blood down his cheek. “Collective!”
Grace took another step away. Her heel kicked against against something solid, her back a moment later. One of the supports running floor to ceiling. She edged around it, never taking her eyes of Kohl. “When we jump,” she said, “it … disconnects you, doesn’t it?”
“Alive,” he agreed. “The structure.” Then he screamed again, a short, sharp sound, before he grunted, doubling over. She glimpsed a lump in his back, a quiver of motion before he stood upright again. “We begin?”
“I get you,” said Grace. “Our jump tech doesn’t work for your world view.”
If they could jump one more time, she could get close enough. While the bug was distracted. She looked at the thick line of Kohl’s neck. Felt the cutting purpose of her sword, where and how it would strike. What Nate would say when he found his headless crew member. What Nate would feel.
“Captain,” said Kohl. “Not there!”