I should have known what Tactus would do. He killed his first Primus, Tamara, in the Institute. He only ever followed strength. Only ever sought victory. I knew he was a beast, but I thought he was my beast. I thought I could trust him. No, I thought I couldย changeย him. I curse myself. Arrogant fool. I stalk back to the cockpit, where Augustus addresses the Blue pilot.
โPilot, will you be able to take us clear?โ
โNo,ย dominus. Geomet models donโt show a probability of escape.โ Her response is fittingly Blueโemotionally distant, e cient, and declarative. Her body is thin, faintly avian. Like sheโs made all of twigs, neck long, bald head slightly smaller. Eyes large and as uncannily azure as the digital tattoos of her skull. When she moves, itโs as though sheโs submerged in water. Asteroid born, judging by her flat accent.
โWhat is the likely scenario?โ
โThey will destroy our engines with ripWing fire. Precipitating a hull breach that will kill all aboard. Alternatively, precipitating a leechCraft assault. Capturing all aboard.โ
โOr theyโll just blast us from the gory sky,โ Sevro adds.
โBlue, deliver me to my ship and you will receive command of a frigate,โ Augustus offers.
โI would prefer a cruiser,โ she notes. โA cruiser, then.โ
โVery well.โ The Blue adjusts several knobs. โI will fly well, but the paradigm must be altered before they engage our vessel, if we
are to survive.โ
The stork climbs toward the edge of Lunaโs atmosphere. This ship is a big-bellied beast. Fat with storage room, because all theyโre meant to do is birth soldiers out of the tubes in their guts. Men like me would tear her apart in our ripWings. We used ships like this at the Academy to launch men in starShells at enemy asteroid bases.
Friction fire wreaths the ship.
โIf the hull is breached, hold your breath,ย dominii,โ the pilot instructs. โWe donโt have su cient survival helmets aboard.โ
Victra frowns. โOur lungs will explode if we do that.โ
โThen exhale,โ the Blue replies. โAnd have thirty secs of life while eardrums explode and blood vessels swell like inflated balloons. I will hold my breath.โ
Sevro looks back at me, wide-eyed. โI hate space.โ โYou hate everything.โ
We pop clear of Lunaโs atmosphere. The fire fades and we slip into open space, where the armadaโs capital ships glide like behemoths of Europaโs deep sea. Gun turrets dot their hide like barnacles, and hangar bays slice their undersides like great gills. Commercial ships float slowly along the shipping lanes. RipWings and wasps go about their patrols. None pay heed to our presence except those that escort us from Luna. The Sovereign would not broadcast this. Time ticks away.
There is nowhere to flee. We thought to pass just under the guns of the Scepter Armada when we had Lysander. But now weโll have to run the gauntlet.
Our pilot is calm as metal.
She said the paradigm must change. What can I do? Think. Think.
โWe will open communications to one of the ships,โ Augustus says. โBribe them into sheltering us. Every man has a price.โ
โWeโre jammed. Canโt even broadcast,โ Mustang reminds him.
Weโre going to die. We all know it. Augustus doesnโt panic or surrender resolve. I donโt know how I thought heโd handle death. Maybe I hoped he would wail about and turn pale. But for all his faults, he is stalwart. After a moment, he sets a bony hand on Mustangโs shoulder. She flinches, surprised.
โWhether missile or boarding craft come, die like Golds,โ Augustus says solemnly to us. Not because he wishes us to think him strong in his last moments, but because he believes in what he isโa superior being, a master of his human frailties. For him, death is merely the ultimate frailty. Humans whimper when they die. They claw for life even if there is no hope. He will not. Death is not grander than his pride.
Golds, in many ways, are so like Reds. Helldivers go to their deaths for their families, for the pride of their clan. They do not whimper when the mines collapse around them or when the pitvipers come from the shadows. They fall and their friends weep and sweep their bodies aside. But we have the Vale to look forward to; what have the Golds? When they perish, their flesh withers and their name and deeds linger till time sweeps them away. And that is all. If anyone should claw for life now, it should be the Aureate.
I claw because I carry the torch of something that must not die, must not go out. That is why I grab Sevro on the shoulder and, with a horrible, eerie laugh, tell the pilot to take us closer to the deadliest ship in orbit, one which now has angled itself to intercept us.
โTake us near theย Vanguard,โ I repeat to the Blue.
โThat would cause our chances of survival to decrease byโโ โNever tell me the odds, just do it,โ I command.
Everyone turns and looks at me. Not because Iโve said something strange but because theyโve been waiting to turn and look at me. Theyโve all been silently praying I would marshal a plan. Even Augustus.
Eo said people would always look to me. She believed I had some quality, some essence that gave hope. I rarely feel it in myself. There is none in me now. tust dread. Inside I feel such a boyโangry, petulant, selfish, guilty, sad, aloneโand yet they look to me. I almost break underneath their gaze, almost wither away and ask someone else to take the reins. I canโt do it. Iโm small. Iโm just a liar in a carved body. But that dream must not be extinguished.
So I act and they watch.
โYou gone space mad?โ Victra asks. โWhen they realize we donโt have the boy โฆโ
โDraw an angle toward theย Vanguardโs bridge,โ Mustang tells
the Blue.
Augustus gives me a curt nod, guessing what I plan.ย โHic sunt leones.โ
โHic sunt leones,โย I echo, saving my last look for Mustang, not the man who hanged my wife. She doesnโt notice. I leave the bridge with Sevro at a dead sprint. Something hits our ship. Her hull shudders. They know we donโt have Lysander.
โHowlers! Get up!โ I shout.
Harpy throws up her hands. โI thought you saidโโ โUP!โ I roar.
Red secondary lights bathe the launch bay in bloody hues as Sevro and I load ourselves into the cold starShells. It takes two Howlers each to help us slip into the robotic carapaces. I lie in the armor as Harpy buckles my feet into the stirrups and closes the armored legs over my meat and bones. The Howlers are fast in their movements even as the ship lurches with another near missile strike. A siren howls, reporting a hull breach. I try to slow my breath as Victra fits my head into the starShellโs helmet.
โGood luck.โ She leans her face close. Before I can stop her, she presses her lips to mine. I do not recoil, not this close to death. I let her lips part and cling warm and comforting around mine. Then the human moment is over, and sheโs gone, lowering the massive visor of my helmet. My Howlers howl and hoot at the sight. I canโt help but wish it was Mustang who sealed me in this tin can and kissed me goodbye; but then the digital display owns my vision and I disappear from my friends into the metal launch tube. Iโm alone. And scared.
Focus.
Iโm cocooned, belly-down, in the spitTube. This is where most would piss themselves, separated from friends, from the warmth of life. Thereโs no gravity in the tube. It isnโt pressurized. I hate the weightlessness of it.
I canโt look up or my neck will break when they launch me. I canโt move side to side. My starShell is latched into a thousand
toothlike magnetic hooks. They click into place like tiny insects, chattering.
In moments theyโll shoot me into space. My breath rasps. My heart rattles against my sternum. I drink in my bodyโs terror and smile. They said this was suicide at the Academy when I wanted to launch myself. Maybe they were right.
But this is why I was made. To dive into hell.
Iโm a beetle of a man in a carapace of metal, weapons, and engines that cost more than most ships. Iโve got a pulseCannon on my right arm. When I need it, it will bloom like a haemanthus blossom.
I think of the time Eo laid a haemanthus before my front door, the time I plucked one from the wall on the night that I was supposed to win the Laurel. How far away those warm days seem from this cold place, where petals are metal instead of soft like silk.
โWeโre getting pinned in. Boarding parties imminent,โย Mustangโs
voice comes over the com.ย โPriming your launch.โย The ship moans as another missile almost claims us. Our shields are shot. tust the rickety hull holding us together.
โAim true,โ I say.
โAlways. Darrow โฆโย Her silence says a thousand things. โIโm sorry,โ I tell her.
โGood luck.โ
โThis is not fun,โย Sevro groans.
The shipโs hydraulic system hisses and the metal teeth jerk me forward in the tube, loading me into the chamber. Inches before my head, the magnetic stream of the railgun hums dreadfully, daring me to glance its way.
They say that many Golds canโt take this, that even Peerless can panic and scream and cry in the spitTube. I believe it. Pixies would have heart attacks right now. Some cannot even ride in a spaceship for fear of small places and the vastness of space. Soft- bellied fools. I was born in a home smaller than the cargo bay of this ship. I made my life at the end of a clawDrill that makes this tube look like a childโs toy, all while sweating and pissing my soul away in a frysuit cobbled together from scrap.
Still thereโs the terror.
โWatch how a pitviper strikes, my son.โย Father once clutched me by my wrist and made me play this game.ย โWatch it coil upward and upward till it reaches its crest. Donโt move before then. Donโt strike out with your slingBlade. If you do, then itโll get you. Itโll kill you. Move just when itโs coming down. Do that with the terror in life. Donโt act till youโre as scared as youโll get, then โฆโย He snapped his fingers.
Iโm at that point when the music of the machines takes hold. The clicks and the clacks, the hisses and the hums reverberate through the hull. A countdown begins.
โReady over there, Goblin?โ I ask Sevro over the com.
โCacatne ursus in silvis?โ
Does a bear shit in the woods? The ship spins and shudders.
More sirens howl. โLatin, now?โ
โAudentes fortuna juvat,โย Sevro chuckles.
โFortune favors the bold? You deserve to die if thatโs really going to be the last thing you say in this life.โ
โYes? Well, you may suck myโโ
My heart sticks to its downward beat.
The metal teeth jerk me forward into the tubeโs magnetic stream. And it happens. Even through my suit, g-forces hit me like the backhand of the Obsidiansโ thunder god. My vision flickers black. Stomach rises into throat. Lungs constrict. Blood slows in my veins. I snap forward. Lights flicker in my eyes. I donโt see the walls of the tube Iโm shot through. I donโt even see the ship that brought me here. I see Eoโs face in the darkness. I black out. Bodies canโt take this. Too fast.
Darkness.
Then the darkness has holes. Stars.
Thereโs no meantime. One second Iโm on the ship, the next Iโm ripping through the deep of space at ten times the speed of sound. Many shit their suits at this point. Itโs not a fear thing. Itโs biology and physics. The human body can take only so much.
Mickey the Carver made sure mine could take just a little bit more. I hope Sevroโs can too.
I rip soundlessly through space. Trust that Sevro is near me. Canโt see him, even on the sensors. All too fast. Toward the greatest ship in the Scepter Armadaโthe one we should avoid. It all happens in six seconds. Emergency missiles streak past us. The gunners see us now. Know whatโs happening. But weโre not using thrusters, so the missiles canโt lock. Flak canโt detonate on so short a fuse. The unspent canisters fly past us, nearly hitting me. Our pilot took a perfect shot.
Railguns miss us. Projectiles flash past. Sevro is howling in the com. Their shields are down. They canโt bring them up fast enough. It takes time. Iridescent blue flickers over their hull as the pulseShields power up.ย Too late, you sons of bitches.
Too bloodydamn late.
I canโt think. Iโm screaming inside. Laughing like the flames of a wildfire. Laughing because I know it is my madness that these logical warriors cannot fight.
The bridge is close. I spare a look up. See Golds inside roaring at one another. Rushing to their evacsuits or escape pods. Staring at us approach like Mustang did when my horses of House Mars crashed into her and Pax in a muddy field. Our rage is something unique. Something these Luneborn donโt understand.
Blues scatter. Obsidians pull their weapons. Two Golds don breath-masks and unfurl razors, readying for the kill. The second before we hit, I shoot my pulseCannon. It thumps on the thick glass. I shoot again and again and again. Then I curl into a ball and smash into the thick bridge glass with the full velocity of my launch as well as a last-second burst from my thruster boots.
Out of me roars a madmanโs scream.